A Boy Called Brook: Summer 2 by Clara Copyright© 2022, 2024 Clara Schumann   A growing relationship, a trip with friends, and a sleepover. Lots of firsts for Brook.

The next morning I woke to the sound of my father in the shower. That was unusual. I was usually awake well ahead of him and out in the kitchen well before he came out of his room.

"Damnit," I muttered and jumped out of bed. I slipped on a pair of Dollar Store flip flops I wore as slippers in the summer and I was just about to hurry down the hall when I spotted the pile of soiled tissues on my nightstand. It would definitely not due to have my dad see all that! So, I grabbed them and hustled down the hallway, passing the bathroom, just as the shower shut off and I heard dad push the shower curtain aside.

I dumped the tissues in the wastebasket and grabbed a frying pan, sprayed a little olive oil into it and put it onto a burner, then pulled the bacon out of the fridge. I knew dad would have at least a little bit of a hangover, so I wanted to give him a good breakfast to try to give him something to kick off his day.

The bacon went into the pan and the bread into the toaster and the eggs came out of the fridge along with the tomato juice and the hot sauce. I turned on the coffee maker and put a K-cup in, grabbed his travel mug while the coffee maker warmed up, then put the travel mug under the spigot and pushed the 'brew' button.

I poured the tomato juice, added two dashes of hot sauce and put it where dad would see it. I grabbed the tongs, flipped the bacon and got the butter out just as the toaster popped and I spread the butter nice and thin so it melted quickly, placing the buttered sides of the toast towards each other before slicing them diagonally, the way dad liked. The bacon was set on paper towels to blot, while the excess grease was poured into a small bowl to cool, the frying pan was lightly wiped and then I fried up two eggs, over easy, just the way dad liked.

I put in a second K-cup and pressed 'brew' again so he'd have enough black coffee for breakfast, his commute and for part of his morning at the lumber yard.

The eggs hit the plate as the bathroom door opened and the nicely plated breakfast was placed on the table along with the spiced tomato juice and coffee just as he arrived.

"Good morning, dad," I said. "I thought you could use a big breakfast this morning. Also, I have some chicken cordon bleu and rice from last night. I put some in a bag for you to take with you for lunch today."

He looked at me, took special note of my hair and shook his head. "So, it wasn't a dream. You really have become a faggot, haven't you?"

I rolled my eyes and sat down at the table just after he did. He drank the tomato juice down in one big gulp, then let out a big 'ahh.' He blinked at the hot sauce's impact.
"What are you doing today?" He asked, not looking up from his breakfast.

I shrugged. "I'm doing the laundry this morning, so if there's anything you want me to throw in it that's not in the hamper, let me know."

He nodded and swallowed what he was chewing. "The clothes I was wearing last night are on the floor in my bedroom."

I just nodded. Of course they were. Where else would they be?

"After that?" he asked.

"I don't know," I said. "Brooke is coming over later..."

"Be careful of her," my father interrupted. "You're obviously smitten with this girl..."

"Just like you are with her mother..."

I was only teasing and under normal circumstances, my dad would have just laughed at that, but like I said, when he was hung over...

He didn't interrupt me with words. He interrupted me with a hard slap of his right hand across my left cheek. Something he'd never done before. Heck, he'd only ever spanked me two or three times in my whole life.

"You watch yourself, little girl," he said, in a very menacing voice. "What goes on between Pat and me is none of your business. What goes on between you and that girl is entirely my business, you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," I said, quietly, rubbing my cheek.

"Look at you. Three hours after you met her she had you looking like her little sister. That's not how a man behaves, Brook. You understand me?" His finger was waggling in my face.

"Yes, sir."

"Men don't have hair nearly to their waist. Men don't let girls 'do their hair' for them. Men don't wear pretty, yellow hair ties to hold back their dainty pony tails. Men don't spend their days learning to cook and becoming good housekeepers and..."

I couldn't keep my mouth shut at that moment. I worked hard to keep our house clean and serve healthy and tasty food for us every night. "Dad, someone has to take care of the house and I would think that you might appreciate the work that I do..."

I stopped because he slammed his hand down on the table top and I was afraid that he might take another swipe at my face. "That's enough!" He shouted. "Last night you acted like a little fairy with that girl! It was embarrassing. You'd better learn how to start acting like a man pretty damned soon, do you understand me?"

"Yes sir," I said, shying away a bit and hoping to avoid another slap.

He returned his attention to his breakfast. "Now, I'll let you play tea party with your little girlfriend for now, but you watch yourself. I know that you'll do anything she'll tell you. I don't want to come home and find you giving some football player a blowjob in my living room. Are you listening to me."

I looked at him, not believing what he just said to me.

"I asked you a question," he said, raising his hand as if to hit me again.

"Come on, dad," I said, probably sounding like a beaten puppy. "I never... I wouldn't... that's not even something that could ever happen. I swear."

He looked at me and considered me for a moment or two. Then he nodded and returned to his breakfast. "See that it doesn't." He finished his toast and put the last piece of bacon in his mouth, then stood before he'd even closed his lips. "Well... I have to go." He reached into the refrigerator and grabbed the lunch I'd prepared for him. "I'll be home around five, five thirty. I might have Pat and the girls over again. I'll let you know."

"I'll need some groceries..."

He seemed irritated by that. He pulled five twenty dollar bills out of his wallet and tossed them on the table. "You can ride your bike over to Winslows and get what you need."

"Dad," I tried to reason with him, "I can't get good meat at Winslows. They're just a convenience store. Can't I go with you and take the car so I can go to the supermarket..."

"Jesus Christ, Brook," he shouted, "you're worse than your mother ever was. No car. Use your bike. Go to Winslows. You're the freaking chef. Make it work. I have to go earn some money by doing some real work. Some men's work. Not cooking and cleaning like a some housewife. Now, leave me alone. My head is killing me."

He grabbed his travel mug, pulled a bottle of aspirin out of the cabinet, put them in his pocket and stormed out the door, leaving me sitting there with dirty dishes, an achy face and an achy heart. I hated days that started like this. There weren't a lot of them, but when they happened, they were tough. I knew that later that day he'd come home and regret having been such an asshole all morning - he always did - but I always kind of felt like these mornings showed me more of his true feelings towards me than all the regular mornings we shared when he laughed and patted my back and called me Chef.

That morning had brought a couple of firsts in our relationship, though.

It was the first time he'd ever called me a faggot or a fairy. That day he'd called me both.

And it was the first time he'd ever slapped me across my face.

I didn't like any of those things.

I sat at the table and considered those new additions to my home life for a few minutes and then a few minutes more and then an hour or more had passed and I still hadn't moved and I still didn't know how to deal with the situation. He was my father. I was eighteen. I had no money. I had no where else to go. There was nothing to be said. There was nothing to be done.

So I got up and I washed and dried his breakfast dishes, then put the laundry into the washer and made myself some toast and tea and sat at the table and watched an episode of my favorite anime on my phone.

"Good morning!" a very cheery voice woke me from my anime trance.

I looked up and saw Brooke standing in my kitchen, looking just as beautiful as yesterday. Her light brown hair shining, makeup minimal, but perfect, a tight fitting, lavender tank top and tight white shorts, but as gorgeous as her body was, it was that bright, white smile that hit me the hardest and when that smile faded as she looked at me, I felt like I just wanted to fade into the woodwork and disappear completely.

"What happened to you?" She asked, suddenly serious.

I shook myself back to reality. "Oh... I'm sorry. I completely lost track of... I haven't even showered yet." I listened for a moment and heard the washer was still running, so I looked at the clock. "Umm... the laundry will be done in a few minutes." I stood with my tea cup and plate and headed to the sink. "As soon as it stops, I should be able to shower. I usually wait a while for the hot water to build up, but it'll be..."

Brooke grabbed my arms and spun my to face her. "What happened to your face?" Her voice was a mix of concern and anger.

I touched the place where my father had slapped me. "Oh... I... I... probably slept on it funny or something." I tried to move on to the sink, but Brooke stopped me and then touched my face. It's funny... well, odd, really... the previous day, when Brooke touched me, her touch was cool and electric. That morning, though, when she touched my face where I'd been slapped... it was hot... and shameful... and I couldn't look her in the eye.

"Does your pillow have five fingers?" she asked quietly.

I didn't answer and I still didn't look at her.

"Your dad hit you?"

I shrugged.

"Because of me?"

I shook my head.

"Because of what I did to your hair?"

I shook my head.

"Why, then?"

I sighed. "Because he was still a little drunk and he was a really hungover and he was really grouchy and..." finally I looked at her, but only out of the side of my eyes. "... because you guys just moved in next door and he really likes your mom and he knows that, even though she might think he's handsome right now, she's never going to get serious about a guy who works long hours at a lumber yard and makes the kind of money my father makes. So... I said something he didn't like so he took it out on me. That's all. End of story. Nothing to do with you. Nothing to do with me."

Brooke took out her phone.

"What are you doing?" I asked, a little scared.

"Calling the police. Your father attacked you, Brook. He has no right to do that. He thinks he was in a bad mood this morning, well, wait till the police visit him at work and have some words with him. He'll be real happy then!"

"No, no, no!" I said in a panic, grabbing her phone. "No, Brooke, you can't do that!"

"Why? He hit you. That's against the law."

"He's my father, Brooke. It's not against the law for a father to give his son a slap."

She looked shocked that I'd say that. "Of course it is! How often does he hit you!?"

"Never..." I said, trying to calm things down. "...well... that was the first time. I mean... he chocked me a few times back when he was drinking a lot... back when my mom left... but he doesn't drink that much any more. Last night was the first time in a long time and since it was... you know... happy drinking... I thought that he might be a little nicer this morning than he was."

"But he wasn't?"

I shook my head. "No. He was pretty bad." I shrugged my shoulders and heard the rinse cycle of the washer come to an end. "Hey, the laundry is done. I'll put the load in the dryer and take a shower."

She took my cup and plate from me. "Just sit for a minute, Brook. I'll wash the dishes."

"I..." I wanted to sit, but I couldn't do it without dealing with the laundry first. It just wasn't in my nature. "I'll be right back. I just need to put the clothes in the dryer."

When I got back to the dinning room, Brooke was waiting for me. She had me sit and she looked at me with pity in her eyes and... I kind of hated it.

"Can I ask you a couple of questions?" she said.

"Sure," I said, and then trying to lighten the mood, I added, "That was your first one."

She gave me a little smile for my effort, but that was all. "Are you happy?"

I shrugged. "I don't know." But that was a lie. I decided to tell the truth. "Not really, I guess, but... I like..." I stopped when I realized how stupid what I was about to say would sound. "... never mind."

"No. Tell me. I want to get to know you so I can be a good friend. 'But' what?"

I could feel my face redden as I prepared to speak. "But... well... I do like cooking. That makes me kinda happy... and... I was happy when I spent time with you yesterday. That really made me happy."

Her little smile got a little bigger, but only a little, and she reached over and put her hand on top of mine. "It made me happy, too, Brook. You're a unique person... unlike anyone I've ever met before... and I like that about you. But let me ask you this - before yesterday, and putting cooking aside, why aren't you happy?"

I shrugged. "I don't know... because I'm always alone... because I always feel stupid... pretty much no matter where I am... at school... and when I talk to my dad... and... because I'm... ugly..."

"Ugly!?" Brooke really perked up on that word. "Who ever told you you were ugly?"

"Brooke, come on. I'm eighteen years old and I'm five foot three inches tall. I weigh a hundred and fifteen ponds. No one is ever going to find me attractive."

"You're not tall, so what!? That doesn't make you ugly! Geez, my dad took me to see this old rock band called AC/DC last year and the guitar player was probably no taller than you and WAS ugly and people were acting like he was a god! That actor from Game of Thrones - you know who I mean, he's in Elf, too - is shorter than you and he's really handsome. Brook, you are definite not ugly. You may not be CLASSICALLY handsome, but you are a good looking person. I'd go so far as to classify you as a kind of a pretty guy. You know - like Justin Bieber was when he was younger. Or those boys in BTS. Girls go crazy for pretty guys."

I smirked at her. "Yeah, sure. What difference does it make. I don't meet anyone who doesn't already think of me as a loser, anyway. Everyone at school already sees me that way, then I come back here and I'm just my father's housekeeper. All I do is cook and clean. By the way, he's calling your mom later to invite all of you guys over for dinner again. He gave me some money to go to the convenience store on my bike and magically turn crappy frozen meat into a good meal. He wouldn't let me drop him off and take the car so I could go to one of the supermarkets in one of the bigger towns." I shook my head. "I'm just supposed to magically make a meal out of nothing, I guess. That's how foul his mood was this morning."

She shook her head. "I'll drive you wherever you need to go. Ok?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. What if he gets made that I went someplace he didn't want me to go..."

"I'll have my mom smooth everything out. Don't worry. I can handle her and she can handle him. Ok?"

I smiled. I figured she probably could handle her mom pretty darned well, actually. "Can I go shower, now?"

"Ok, but let's put your hair up so it doesn't get body soap in it." She said, leading me into the kitchen.

"How?" I asked. "I don't have any hair pins or anything like that."

"You have this," she laughed, "grabbing a bag of potato chips with a big yellow clip on the top.

She turned me around, twisted my ponytail a few times as she piled it on top of my head, then clamped the Chip Clip to the mass of hair she'd created.

She turned me to face her, a big smile on her face. "See, there's always a solution to every problem. And just so you know, you would look adorable with an updo. Heck, I could glue some glitter to that yellow clip and you could go to prom with your hair just like that."

"And my dad would be so proud," I joked, and started to walk away, but she stopped me and looked straight into my eyes.

"Frankly, I don't give a fuck what your dad thinks about anything, right now."

I was more than a little shocked she'd dropped an F-bomb so casually, but then she touched my face again, and this time... I didn't feel the shame. I just felt her tenderness. And then... she leaned forward... and she kissed my cheek. It was a soft, tender, chaste kiss, but it nearly made my knees buckle.

"There," she smiled at me. "Maybe that will help."

I couldn't even think, let alone move, for the next few moments, until she turned me towards the hallway and gave my bottom a soft Pat. "Go on, now. Take a shower, and don't get that hair too wet. We'll deal with that out here at the sink."

I was in and out of the shower in record time, mostly because all I wanted to do was get back to being with Brooke. After the miserable start to the day, I wanted to get back to her sweet nature and soft touch, even if that touch was just going to be because she was going to be giving me a lesson in how to wash and condition my hair. I didn't care, at least she'd be touching me.

As she dug her fingernails mercilessly into my scalp, she explained how important it was to wash all the way down to the skin of my scalp and that the way my hair looked was a reflection of how clean it was.

After three rounds of shampooing, a goodly amount of conditioner was put in and I was allowed to sit and wait ten minutes while the conditioner did its thing.

"Alright," Brooke said, wiping her hands on a towel, "tomorrow... What are your plans?"

"Well," I said, feeling a bit foolish with one towel over my shoulders and another twisted into a turban on my head, "it's Tuesday, so I plan on doing the dusting and vacuuming in the morning - very exciting, I know - then I might mow the lawn, if it needs it. Why?"

Brooke shook her head. "The house can go a week without dusting and I will help you vacuum today. Tomorrow, my sisters and I are planning on taking a ride to York Beach, and you're coming with us."

"York Beach?" I asked. "Where's that? In New York?"

"What?" She laughed. "No. It's in Maine. York, Maine."

"Maine!? Isn't that like six of eight hours away?"

Brooke looked at me like I was an idiot. "No. It's like an hour an a half from here - at least York is. My dad lives there, now. Maine is huge. I'm sure there are parts that are six or eight hours away, but York is just over the border from New Hampshire. I took Melissa there a couple of weeks ago on a whim just to get her a lobster roll for her birthday. You've never been there?"

"Nope. I've never been to New Hampshire, either. Actually, I don't remember ever going to any beach. There's a picture in an album of me and my mom at a pond in a State Park when I was a baby, but I think that might be the only time."

"Wait a minute." Brooke looked at me with a weird look. "Are you telling me that you live in the middle of Massachusetts, a fairly small state, and you've never been to a beach on the ocean?"

"Nope. I've never even seen the ocean," I said with a shrug.

"Oh my God!" She shouted. "Brook, how is that possible!? You've never seen the ocean? You've never smelled the ocean? You've never been swimming in the ocean? Brook, it's less than an hour from here to the ocean! Cape Cod is only a little further than that! People come from all over the world to go there! And you've never been?"

"Nope," I shook my head.

"Well, tomorrow you're going to Maine to see the ocean for the first time."

"I'll ask, Brooke, but I don't know what my dad will say. He's not a very pro-vacation kind of person."

Brooke shook her head. "A day trip is NOT a vacation. I'll have my mom talk to him. You're going. This is ridiculous." She started unwrapping my hair and then said, "You do have a bathing suit, don't you?"

"No," I half laughed. "Why would I have a bathing suit?"

She shook her head. "Ok. After dinner, we can go to Walmart and get you one."

"You know what," I said, suddenly embarrassed, "maybe I shouldn't go. I have a lot to do here."

"What!? Of course you're going." Then she realized I was embarrassed about something. "Is something wrong? What's the matter?"

I sighed. "Look, Brooke, I just don't have much money. Yesterday, I spent almost sixty dollars on all this hair stuff. That's was pretty much all I had. I can't afford to buy a bathing suit. I can't afford to go away with you and pay for food or anything like that. I really do appreciate the invitation, but... I... I'll just stay here. Ok?"

"Come on. I'll take care of your food. We won't eat too fancy. If you don't have a bathing suit, you can just wear a pair of shorts." She smiled, very happy to have reasoned everything out.

"No, that's ok," I said. "Just... go without me."

"Oh, come on." She stamped her foot. "I don't want to go without you. What now?"

I was really embarrassed, now. "I... I only have these jeans and my sleep shorts and my sleep shorts have a big hole in the crotch. I can't wear those out in public and I'd look pretty stupid on a beach in jeans. Look... things like beaches and stuff... those aren't for people like me. People like me... we just do chores and stay home while other people have fun. You go ahead. It's ok."

"Oh, aren't you a wonderful martyr," she shook her head. "What size waist do you have?"

A little confused, I said, "I don't know. Twenty two or twenty four I guess."

"Perfect. That's the same as Elena. You can wear a pair of her shorts."

"I CAN'T WEAR YOUR LITTLE SISTER'S SHORTS!" I said shocked.

"Of course, you can. Shorts are shorts. They are sexless. No one will be able to tell."

"Look at your shorts, Brooke," I pointed out. "Those don't look like boys shorts."

"And they don't look like Elena's shorts, either. She's still a kid. I'll find you a pair that will fit perfectly. Trust me."

"Ok," I finally gave in, mostly because I really wanted to go, "but don't embarrass me, ok?"

"Have I ever embarrassed you?" She smiled.

"Asks the girl who put my hair in a ponytail that looked like a girl's ponytail last night."

"Oh, that's ridiculous. A pointy tail is a pony tail and you looked lovely."

"I looked lovely. I rest my case."

She laughed a little. "Ok, I get it, but I'll find you something that looks right. Ok?"

"Ok."

Once my hair was rinsed again, it was sprayed with detangler and Brooke brushed and combed and brushed it again then I took the laundry out of the dryer and folded it. I put it all away in either my room or my dad's and then we went outside into the sunshine, where, Brooke assured me, my hair would dry quicker.

She was right, and about an hour later, all dried, my hair received one more brushing and was once again pulled into a ponytail.

"Hey, guess what," Brooke laughed, looking at her phone when her text tone chimed. "We're all coming to your house for dinner tonight."

"Oh, what a surprise," I laughed.

"Come on. I'll take you to the supermarket, if you want."

"Actually," I said, "do you think we could go to the farmer's co-op? The meat is fresher and so are the vegetables and it's a little cheaper, too."

"Sure. Just guide me."

We got what we needed and we spent the afternoon getting everything ready for dinner. I baked some nice buns and made spice cake cupcakes for dessert. Brooke frosted them, not particularly nicely, to be honest, but I don't think anyone cared, anyway, as long as they tasted good.

So, by five thirty, when my dad got home, all the Kerrs were there and I was ready to put a platter of steaks, a basket of buns, a big bowl of mashed potatoes and a platter of corn on the cob on the table.

"Well, everything smells great!" my dad said as he came in. "How's it going, Chef? Anything I can help with?" He was smiling and just as gregarious as always.

"No," I said, as politely as possible. We did have guests, after all. "Everything's ready."

"Alright then," he smiled at everyone. "Ladies, why don't you all take a seat and Chef and I will bring everything in."

When the Kerrs had vacated the kitchen, my father spoke quietly. "Hey... Chef... I guess I was a little rough on you this morning, huh?"

I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

He nodded. "Yeah... well... I'm sorry, but... well, you know how it is when you're hungover."

"Actually, I don't."

"Yeah, well... but you know what I mean. Look... buddy... you know how I feel about you, right? Anyway... we're ok, right?"

I didn't know what to say, so I just handed him the potatoes and corn and said, "We have guests, dad. Here."

He nodded, assuming all was forgiven. "Ok." He winked at me. "Everything smells great, Chef."

Dinner was really good, if I do say so myself. Most of the conversation revolved around Mrs Kerr's work to get everything set up at the house. Her ex-husband's brother had come over to help that afternoon and he had hung pictures and mirrors, assembled an entertainment, center, moved some shelving around... stuff like that... stuff my dad assured her he could do for her as well.

Mrs Kerr assured dad that she knew that. "Mark just wants to stay connected to the girls, though. He keeps telling them that divorce isn't the end of family, just a new phase. He's a nice guy. You'd like him."

Something about my dad's body language indicated that he disagreed.

As the meal was coming to an end, Brooke gave me a gentle nudge under the table and then looked at me, raising her eyebrows as if to say, 'Ask him.'

So, I mustered my courage and I cleared my throat. "Ummm... dad... Brooke and the girls... ummm... they're going to the beach tomorrow and... ummm... Brooke invited me to go with them. Do you think it'd be ok if I did? You know... go with them?"

"The beach, huh?" my dad said, as if I was talking about a trip to Europe or something. "What beach are we talking about here?"

"York Beach, Mr Chapin," Brooke jumped in. "It's an hour and a half up and an hour and a half back."

My father rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Gee, I don't know, Chef. I mean... do you even own a pair of trunks?"

"He doesn't have to go swimming, Mr Chapin. We're just going to hang out on the beach and enjoy the sunshine. Maybe have some fish and chips and come home. No big deal." Brooke had suddenly become my lawyer in this matter.

My dad huffed a bit as he thought.

"Oh, let the boy go, Vic," Mrs Kerr said with a big smile. "He could use a day away and it'll be nice for Brooke to have a friend with her. Otherwise she's just babysitting. Besides, my ex has a condo up there, just off the beach. If they have any problems, the girls' dad is right there to help them."

My dad looked at me with a smile that told the Kerrs that he was a friendly guy, but told me that I had put him on the spot and he wasn't any too pleased about it. "Well, I guess that, under the circumstances I will say 'yes,' but in the future, Chef, I would appreciate a little more lead time when you plan on changing our daily schedule, ok?"

I nodded. "Ok, dad. Sorry."

Brooke smiled. "Thank you, Mr Chapin. We'll be leaving around seven thirty tomorrow morning and we'll get home around nine tomorrow night. Is that ok?"

"I guess it'll have to be," Dad smiled.

"Well, I'll tell you what," Mrs Kerr smiled. "For being such a good sport, and for feeding me and the girls last night and tonight, I'll take you out to dinner tomorrow. How's that sound."

"Now, that sounds like a deal!" My father finally sounded happy.

Brooke stayed with me to help with the dishes and act as a buffer between me and my dad, and it kind of worked. By the time she left, he had been watching a ball game on TV for a while and had mellowed out a bit. So, when I said 'goodnight,' he didn't go crazy, he just waved me over to his recliner and said. "That wasn't very cool, Chef. I don't appreciate being put on the spot like that in front of others - especially Pat. You get me?"

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry. It's just that Brooke just asked me today and I haven't had a chance to talk to you since..."

He held up his hand to stop me. "I asked you - You got me?"

"Yes, sir. I do."

"Ok. Then I don't expect to have to have this conversation again. Now... about your hair."

"My hair?"

"Yes," he stopped to watch a play on the TV. He shook his head in disgust at the stupidity of the multimillionaires playing baseball on TV. Then, he looked back at me. "You look like a girl like that. Unless that's what you're going for, you need to knock all this girly crap off. Now, I know that Brooke is a hottie, hell, I'd jump her if I was a few years younger, but don't let her cut your balls off on you. You're already in 'The Friend Zone.' If you're not careful, you'll be nothing more than a girlfriend to her."

I shrugged. "Dad... a girl as pretty as Brooke isn't ever going to be interested in dating me..."

"That's probably true," he snickered.

"...but I like my hair long. I'm not going to cut it."

"I didn't say to cut it," he said, focusing on the TV screen, "just stop wearing it like a cheerleader. Now, let me watch my game."

I shook my head. "Ok. Goodnight, dad."

"Yeah," was all he said.

The next morning, I got dad off to work without any confrontations. He was actually in a really good mood because of his upcoming date that night with Mrs Kerr. He even gave me ten dollars to get something to eat on my day trip. Obviously, that wasn't enough to buy a meal, but it was a nice gesture.

At seven, Brooke sent me a text to come over and try on some shorts. So, I locked up the house and headed out for my big adventure to Maine!

My first real day trip.

My first trip with friends.

It was a really big day for me and I was pretty darned excited about it.

I showed up at the Kerr's house in my jeans and my best Pikachu tee shirt, the one that's just yellow, but has the big Pikachu eyes, the red circles on Pikachu's cheeks and the big Pikachu smile. Mrs Kerr met me at the door with a big smile and said, "Good morning, Brook. You look nice. The girls are upstairs. Go ahead up."

"Thank you, Mrs Kerr," I smiled.

"Girls!" she yelled up the stairs, "Brook is on his way up!"

"Ok!" Three voices called down.

"Hey!" Brooke said, meeting me in the hallway wearing a one piece bathing suit that made her already perfect body look even more amazing. "Come on in." She grabbed my hand and led me into her room where she had three pairs of shorts laid out on her bed. "So - I went through Elena's shorts and she didn't have as many as I thought. There may be some more in the garage, but I have these for today, anyway. What do you think?"

I looked at the shorts and there was only one pair I was going to wear; the jeans shorts. The others were elastic waist, cotton shorts that were really short.

"I'll wear the jean shorts," I said.

"I figured as much," Brooke laughed, "but I wanted to give you some options." She picked up the shorts and handed them to me. Then she picked up her own, tiny shorts and pulled them on over her swim suit. She turned and looked at me, confused. "Aren't you going to put them on?"

I looked around. "Here? In front of you?"

"No. Here while I put on my own clothes. I won't be watching you." She seemed amused. You have on boxers or briefs or something, right?"

"Briefs, yeah."

"Then get changed," she laughed.

She turned her back again and started pulling on a top, so I hurried to pull off my jeans. I had just pulled them off and was just putting my right leg into the shorts when Elena walked into the room.

"Brooke, can you put this shirt into the travel bag for me. Oh, hi Brook. Do my shorts fit?" She asked, as casually as could be.

Brooke took the shirt from her sister and placed it onto a tote bag.

I pulled the shorts on as quickly as I could, embarrassed that a kid had seen me half undressed, and buttoned the waist and zipped them up as quickly as I could.

"Kind of, I guess," I said. "Is this how they're supposed to fit?" They weren't really tight, but they kind of hugged my legs a bit and they went down to just above my knees. They also had cuffs at the bottom, which was something I'd never seen before.

"Yeah. They fit nice," Elena said. "Don't you think, Brooke?"

"Perfect!" Brooke smiled. "They're kind of long for the summer, though. Those are really designed for fall. Are you sure you don't want to wear a lighter pair?"

"Nope," I shook my head. "These are great." I took my wallet out of my jeans and went to put it into the pocket of Elena's shorts, but... "Hey... there are no pockets on these."

"Nope," Brooke laughed. "Lots of girls' clothes don't have pockets. I'll put your wallet in the tote bag we're bringing." She held out her hand and I handed over my wallet which contained my license, the ten dollars my dad gave me, thirteen dollars of my own and my school ID.

Brooke went to her dresser and grabbed something, then looked at both Elena and me and said, "Ok, you two, turn around." Then she shouted down the hall, "Mel! Come on! Time to do your hair!"

Suddenly, Brooke was brushing Elena’s hair and asking her how she wanted it for the day.

"I think just a ponytail for the beach, thanks," Elena said, looking forward as if this was a daily event. "Maybe, after the beach, I’ll wear it down, but I don’t want it blowing in my face"

"Ok," Brooke, said as she brushed, then wound a hair tie into Elena’s hair.

Meanwhile, Melissa ran into the room and stood on the other side of me, wearing nearly the same tee shirt that I was wearing. Her Pikachu shirt had the outline of the character’s face, though. She looked at me and laughed. "Hey look – twins!"

"Ponytail?" Brooke asked me.

"I guess," I responded, confused.

My hair was brushed and the ponytail was installed and my shoulder was tapped to indicate I was done.

"How do you want it?" Brooke asked Melissa.

"I was going to wear it down," Melissa responded, "but I definitely want it like Brook’s, though. We need to look like twins."

Brooke looked at me and smiled as if that was the cutest think she’d ever heard. I thought less of it than she did, of course.

It wasn’t long before we were off on our adventure! I was thrilled to be seeing something new. Of course, Highway is Highway, so the first hour was pretty much the same old view with just a few old mills as we passed through some cities up north, but I was excited to see the sign that said we were entering New Hampshire. It was the first time I’d ever left Massachusetts.

Then, just a few minutes later, it saw the sign that said that ‘Welcome To Maine, The Way Life Should Be.’

"Wow, is New Hampshire really that small?" I asked astounded.

That made all the sisters laugh. "Only on the coastline," Brooke laughed. "It goes all the way up to Canada in its interior.

Then we went over a bridge and Brooke told me to open my window and I smelled salt air for the first time and it was amazing! It was so fresh and full of life!

"Wait till we get to the beach," Elena laughed from the seat behind me. "It smells so much better there."

And boy was she right!

When we pulled up to the parking space on the side of the road right next to the beach, the first thing that hit me was the size of the view. I’d never seen anything like it before! The ocean just went on forever. It wasn’t even framed by anything. There was just the dark colored sand and then the water until the sky took over. It was so big that I just sat in Brooke’s Jeep and stared out the window for a long time while they all got ready to go down to the sand.

Finally, Brooke knocked on the window and told me to come with them.

I opened the door and the ocean breeze hit me in the face, salty and a little sticky. It was amazing! Like nothing else I’d ever felt. I inhaled it and tasted the ocean and understood immediately why people loved to come to places like this. I was already in love with the seashore and I hadn’t even walked onto the beach yet.

We walked down onto the sand, which was a lot harder and more compact than I expected, but I later learned that’s just a peculiarity of Maine beaches. We laid out some blankets and we sat down and just enjoyed the sun and the feeling of being young and free and in the beauty of the seaside.

It was glorious and I felt, maybe for the fist time, like I was part of a group. The Kerr sisters treated me like one of their own. I sat with them. I chatted with them. I walked the shoreline with them, both as a group and with each of them individually. Melissa wanted to show me a particularly interesting area where there were crabs, so I walked over there with her. Elena wanted to show me a place where we could climb up on the rocks and feel the ocean spray, so I climbed there with her.

And then I walked the entire length and breadth of the beach with Brooke. She in her amazing swim suit and me in my Pikachu Tee shirt and Elena’s shorts. As we walked, she took my hand and it was different than it had been before. Now, she wasn’t leading me or acting like I was a child. Now, she was holding my hand affectionately. Like we were growing closer the longer we spent together. At one point, as we sat on the beach, she even put her arm around my shoulders and pulled me close to her. The feel of her embrace, even in this public place, was the most wonderful thing I’d ever felt in my life. Maybe I was imagining things, but I thought that we were starting to connect with each other in a really substantial way. Like... in a kind of... I like you and you like me... kind of way. It was kind of great and very exciting.

We had lunch on the beach, just some pizza from a place across the street, then we enjoyed the beach for a few more hours. We waded up to our knees in the cold water, but never got too wet, until just before we were about to leave. We were near a break water, looking at some things growing on the rocks when a huge wave came up from behind us and completely soaked us. Man, that water was cold, but we just laughed about it as we walked back out onto the beach.

Not long after, we left and went to say ‘hi’ to the girl’s father at his condo, which was really close by. It overlooked the beach from one view and could see this famous lighthouse out another.

"Hey, girls!" He said as we entered. "I’m glad you came by now. I was just about to leave and I wanted to at least get to say hi." He kissed each daughter as they entered.

"Where are you off to, daddy?" Melissa asked.

"Vancouver," he smiled. "You know how it is. Work, work work. And who is this?"

"Oh, this is Brook, our new neighbor," Elena introduced me.

"Nice to meet you, sir," I said, extending my hand.

"Another Brooke! What a coincidence! Welcome," he said and shook my hand very gently.

"Look, girls, I’m really sorry, but I really have to run. I have to catch a plane. You know where everything is. Stay as long as you like, but just lock up when you leave." He reached into his wallet and pulled out some money and handed it to Brooke. "Here, baby. Take your sisters and your friend to The Weathervane for supper on me, ok? I love you all." He kissed them all again and gave me a Pat on the back. "Bye girls." He said and he disappeared.

"Bye daddy!" they all shouted as the door closed.

"That was abrupt," I laughed.

"That’s daddy," Brooke laughed.

"Did he give you money for The Weathervane!?" Melissa asked, excited.

"He did," Brooke smiled.

"Cool!" both Melissa and Elena shouted.

"Yeah, well, that means dry clothes, so get changed," Brooke told them, holding out the tote bag she’d brought from home. The two girls grabbed the bag and ran upstairs.

"What’s The Weathervane?" I asked.

Brooke laughed. "It’s kind of a kind of touristy, mostly fried food place on the way back that daddy has taken us to ever since we were little. It’s not that great, but it’s always been his big treat. It’s not dressy or anything, but you’ll need dry clothes."

I looked at Brooke like she had two heads. "I don’t have dry clothes."

"Did you put your jeans in the tote bag?"

I shook my head. "No. I didn’t know I was supposed to."

"Ok. Don’t panic. We’ll find something."

She walked to the foot of the stairs and called up. "El, do you have any extra clothes here?"

"A few. Not many. Why?"

"Can you see if you have anything for Brook to wear?"

‘Sure."

"Nothing too girly, ok?"

"Ok!"

Brooke smiled at me. "We’ll find something."

And they did.

After Brooke got changed, she called me upstairs to the guest room, which was referred to as ‘the girls’ room. It had three beds and a huge bureau in it. "Ok. It’s not ideal, but no one’s going to know you and you’ll look fine, so just relax and see how you look after we get it on you."

I sighed. "It’s not something crazy girly, is it?"

"No. It’s shorts and a nice top. Take off your wet shirt and shorts."

I turned my back and pulled down the wet shorts, then stepped out of them, then took off my tee shirt. I jumped a little and let out a surprised, "Hey," when she touched my rump.

"Ummm... your underwear is wet, too, Brook. You’ll have to take those off as well."

"And wear what?" I asked, never expecting her to hand me a pair of very pale blue, cotton panties. "I can’t wear those! They’re Elena’s."

"They’re brand new. I just pulled them out of a package in her drawer. Just put them on. It’s really not a big deal."

"Maybe not for you..."

"Come on," Brooke sounded very mature and rational, "it’s only a big deal if you make it a big deal. Just put them on. Please."

I sighed and took them and put them on, praying that I didn’t have an orgasm right then and there. I didn’t, thank God.

"Here," she said, handing me a pair of very short beige shorts.

"Seriously, Brooke!? There’s no way anyone would believe these are men’s shorts."

"I know and I’m sorry," she said, "but I’m just trying to make the best of an unexpected situation. I thought that we’d just be grabbing fish and chips at a roadside place or something. The Weathervane is a big deal to my sisters, Brook. You’ll like it, though. I swear you will."

I huffed, but like I told you already, this was kind of like a dream come true.

I pulled the shorts up and buttoned them and zipped them up. They barely came four inches down my legs, exposing my hairless legs. "These are REALLY SHORT," I pointed out needlessly.

"They look fine," Brooke said. "Hold your arms up and I’ll help you with your top."

I held up my arms and she lowered a kind of blue and red plaid top over my head. It was cotton, wasn’t tight, but had no give to it, the way a tee shirt would. It was more like a dress shirt, but it didn’t button up the front. I felt my arms slip through the arm holes, but there were no sleeves.

Brooke settled the top on my shoulders and said, "Stay still for a moment," and she began buttoning a few buttons near the top of the back of the shirt.

I could see that there was a small, while collar on the shirt, too, with a small opening at the neckline and the shirt’s hem fell nearly to the bottom of the shorts I was wearing.

"Wait... what kind of shirt is this?" I asked, a little panicked.

"Relax," Brooke said, calmly, "you look fine."

"Yeah, but I look fine and like a girl," I said. "Take it off me."

"Come on, Brook. At least take a look at how you look before you make a decision." She took my hand and led me to her father’s bedroom where there was a sliding closet door that was entirely a mirror. "See," she said, guiding my attention to the mirror, "you look fine. No one would even question if you’re a girl. Come on. The girls really want to go to The Weathervane."

I stared at myself for a good long moment, shocked at how good I looked and shocked by how little it had taken to get me looking this good. Just cleaning my hair up, a ponytail and a couple of pieces of clothing and any sign of manhood that I might have possessed was gone – just gone. I couldn’t believe it.

Not only that – I loved it, and it was a good thing that the top was a long as it was, because I could feel myself hardening and I was very grateful that Brooke couldn’t see the evidence of my excitement in her little sister’s shorts.

"See?" Brooke said. "What do you think?"

"Wha..." I tried to say something... anything. "What do YOU think?" I finally got out. "Do you think it looks ok?"

She turned me towards her and she smiled at me. "I think you look adorable, Brook."

Then, with me facing her, she reached behind my head and pulled out my ponytail out of its hair tie and ran her fingers through my hair. Her smile seemed to broaden as she did it. She put her forehead on mine and our noses touched. "You know, Brook... you make a very good looking girl. This could be something that’s kind of fun to explore."

My eyes must have opened opened wider than they ever had before. "THIS is something that could get me killed if my dad ever found out about it."

"Interesting," she said and her smile turned a bit wicked.

"What?"

"You didn’t say ‘no.’"

I must have blushed, but I couldn’t speak because I couldn’t deny that I was excited by the idea of exploring this idea.

"So, here’s the thing," she said, running her hands down my back, "I think this might be fun and you think this might be fun, too, and your new best friend is a really," she kissed my forehead, "really" she kissed it, again, "good cosmetologist. So... I think we are going to have a very interesting summer. What do you think, Brook?"

My throat was so dry, I couldn’t even speak. "I... I... I..."

She kissed my forehead once more. "You’re quivering," she giggled.

"I am?" Hell, I would have been quivering in a three piece Brooks Brothers suit, for crying out loud! She’d just kissed me! Just my forehead, yeah, but it was a kiss. And not a ‘I’ll make your boo-boo all better kiss’ like yesterday.’ This was a real, honest to God, affectionate kiss... on my forehead.

"I’ll take that as a yes."

I just nodded and that made her look very happy.

"Well, alright," she said in a very sultry voice. "Then let’s have a little more fun for your first outing in girl-mode. Ok?"

I still could only nod.

She still looked into my eyes, but she called out the door. "El?"

"Yeah?" her sister yelled back from down stairs.

"Do you have a spare bra here? This top isn’t hanging quite right?"

"Sure," she said and she came running up the stairs.

Brooke stepped away, took me by the hand and we got back to the girls’ room just before Elena got there. She hopped right past me, completely ignoring the bizarreness of her sister’s request, opened a drawer and asked, "Anything in particular?"

"Do you have anything with a little padding?" Brooke asked, winking at me.

"Everything I have has a little padding," Elena said, sounding a bit disgusted with herself. She pulled something from a drawer and handed it to me. "Now WE can be twins, I guess," she smiled, "but no one but us will know." She giggled.

"Turn around," Brooke instructed.

I did and she unbuttoned my top, again, and lifted it off of me. Then she slid the bra up my arms and fastened it behind me. It felt kind of wonderfully odd to have it slightly constricting my chest the way it was. And the way that it created two small mounds on my chest made me move past quivers and straight into shivers. The little bit of lace that outlined the edges of the bra made the garment that much more delicious to have on.

"Arms up," Brooke said, as if speaking to a child, but I obeyed like an obedient toddler. The top came back on and she buttoned it back up and, after she pulled my hair free, I returned to her father’s room and I looked in the mirror again – and I looked even more like a girl than I did before. The addition of the modest little breasts dispelled any doubt that the person reflected in the mirror was a girl – not woman, but a girl. Cute, a little boyish, needing some lessons on eyebrow care and makeup, but that would come as she grew up. For now... she was... adorable. And she was me.

"You like?" Brooke asked.

I nodded. "I do."

She smiled. "I knew you would." Then she shouted, "Everyone downstairs! Hair and makeup and ready to go in ten minutes!"

"Ok!" Her sisters called back and I could hear them hustling about the condo.

"You’re like a general, aren’t you?" I laughed, finally looking away from the mirror.

"Someone has to be," she smiled as she led me back to the guest room to pick up my clothes. "My mom certainly isn’t and daddy was hardly ever home. So... I’m usually in charge. It works out ok, I guess. The girls and I get along pretty well. Come on.

We went back downstairs, and Brooke grabbed a brush and a makeup case from her tote bag. "Come on, Mel. You’re up."

Melissa jumped up and stood before her sister, who pulled out her hair tie and started brushing her hair straight back. When she was satisfied, she gave it a spraying. Then she grabbed her makeup case and applied a light coat of makeup, a little eye makeup and lipstick to her younger sister.

"Ok," she said when she was done. "El, come on."

Elena took the same practiced position that Melissa had just surrendered and Brooke followed the same practiced maneuvers of hair and makeup until she was satisfied.

"Ok," she said when she was done. "Brook, come on."

Having watched the two younger girls, I knew what to do, so I stood and let Brooke work her wonders on my hair. After she’d sprayed my hair, I started to step away, but Brooke stopped me. "Hold on, Brook."

Then, before I knew it, she was applying makeup to my face.

And I didn’t stop her.

"What do you guys think?" She asked, presenting me to her sisters.

"You look good," Elena said.

"Cute," Melissa said. "Are you sure you’re a boy?" That made all of us chuckle.

The truth was, I wasn’t, but I was about to head out the door dressed as a girl for the first time and I could not have been more excited.

When she’d done her own hair and makeup, Brooke, said, "Let’s go." The two younger girls headed out the door, but Brooke stopped me. "Ready?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I think so."

She looked out the door to be sure her sisters weren’t looking, then she leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on my lips. I was shocked, but accepted it and bent my head back to accept as much as she wanted to give, but, alas, it was just a brief kiss. "For luck," she smiled.

I stared at her, unable to even breathe for a moment. "Are you ok?" She giggled.

"Wha...?" I muttered. "Yeah... yeah... yeah... I’m... I’m... fine," I finally sputtered.

She smiled. "Cool. Let’s go."
 
 
To Be Continued...

A Boy Called Brook: Summer 3 by Clara Copyright© 2022, 2024 Clara Schumann Brook's summer of feminine exploration is leading to more and more exciting insights into his own sexuality. Things are going along great, until...

Again, I wish to thank Sephrena for her assistance with the html and to all of my reviewers for their kind reviews and support of my work. Please, continue to let me know what you think about my story, leave a review, it can be good or bad (not too harsh please!)
I am always willing to learn! ~Clara.
 
 
Summer 3
 

The Weathervane truly was nothing special. Just a touristy seafood restaurant on the side of the main road that ran through Kittery, Maine on the way home from York. As someone who had been taught to appreciate good food that is well prepared and presented, I was unimpressed. It was... fine. On a scale of one to ten, it was a solid six - maybe a seven if you really liked fried fish. I LIKE fried fish and it was better than the fried fish my dad brought home from the pizza place on Friday nights sometimes. So... it was fine.

I get why the Kerrs liked it though. It held a lot of memories with their dad. They told me a ton of stories about various visits with their father to the restaurant. The time that dad said this to the waitress. The time that dad told that joke. The time that dad bought them tee shirts. The time that dad said... Obviously, this place held a great deal of sentimental feeling for them and that was great for me to be able to share.

"Dessert, girls?" the waitress asked.

"One Colossal Hot Fudge Sundae and one Wicked Molten Lava Cake, four spoons and four large glasses of milk," Melissa ordered without hesitation.

The waitress looked to Brooke for confirmation. Brooke nodded and smiled. "Coming up," the waitress said.

"So," Elena smiled at me, "how do you like being one of the girls?"

I shrugged. "I just kind of like being 'one of the anythings.'"

"But admit it," she persisted, "you like looking nice, don't you? I mean, I don't want to be mean, but you're a lot cuter today than you looked when we met you."

"That's for sure," Melissa said, raising her eyebrows.

"Hey," Brooke said with a warning tone, "be nice."

"I am being nice," she said. "What I mean is that you look cute now, Brook. I do have to admit, though, I have a hard time believing that you're going to be a senior. I mean, you're like the same size as Elena and she's supposed to be in eighth grade."

That caught me by surprise. "Eighth grade?"

Elena just nodded.

"I thought you two were twins or something."

Brooke chuckled a little. "Nope. Melissa is the talented one and Elena is the brilliant one. She skipped a grade."

"You're talented?" I asked Melissa. "How?"

She shrugged. "I play piano and sing."

"She's being modest," Brooke said. "She can REALLY sing and she plays piano like a pro. You should hear her."

"So, if Elena's the brilliant one and Melissa's the talented one, what are you?" I asked Brooke.

"The pretty one," the two other girls said.

"Yeah, sure," Brooke shook her head. "I'm the bossy one, as you've seen."

"Here we go!" The waitress announced with undo excitement, putting the tray on a tray stand and passing out the glasses of milk, then placing the two oversized desserts in the middle of the table. "Enjoy."

"Oh, God, this is good!" Melissa said in ecstasy, tasting the lava cake.

In my classes we are taught to look for nuisance in flavor. To search for the flavor nodes. The shades of flavor colors. How the chefs and bakers utilize a touch of cinnamon or a hint of cardamom to bring out a completely unexpected flavor.

This tasted just like Hershey's Chocolate Syrup from a can, and you know what... for that night... it was perfect. They were happy and I was happy to be there with them and share time and dessert with them.

"Hey, look at your phone," Elena said at one point.

"Huh," Melissa said. "That's cool."

Brooke shook her head and showed me a text from her mother. 'HI, GIRLS. HOPE YOU'RE HAVING A GOOD DAY. GUESS WHAT! VIC SET UP THE TENT IN OUR BACK YARD SO YOU CAN CONTINUE YOUR ADVENTURE WITH A CAMPING NIGHT. YOUR AIR MATTRESSES, SLEEPING BAGS AND PJS ARE ALREADY IN THE TENT. BROOK CAN JOIN YOU IF HE WANTS. USE THE DOWN STAIRS LAV PLEASE. LOVE YOU. DRIVE SAFELY.'

"What's that all about?" I asked.

"It means your dad is getting lucky," Brooke whispered, sounding a little disgusted. "Mom did the same thing last summer with her old boyfriend. She'd send us out to the tent for the night so she'd have the house to herself."

"Oh," I replied, uncertain as to what else to say.

Just then, my phone chimed. 'HI CHEF. I'M TAKING TOMORROW OFF. I'M NOT GOING TO BE HOME TONIGHT. STAYING WITH PAT. IF YOU WANT A GIRLS NIGHT WITH YOUR FRIENDS THAT'S OK WITH ME. SEE YOU TOMORROW.'

I showed it to Brooke.

"Not as classy as my mom, but at least it's more honest," she said, quietly and shook her head.

Brooke paid the bill with the money her father had given her and we headed home, arriving around nine, just as it was starting to get real dark. We decided to go to my house and watch a little TV before 'camping' in the pretty huge tent that had been set up in the Kerr's back yard. Just to be sure we didn't upset anyone, both Brooke and I sent our respective parent a text to tell them we were back and where we'd be for the next hour or two.

We both received 'Ok' replies.

The girls chose a teen-girl show that I'd never seen before on a streaming service that was pretty silly. Lots of intrigue and female back-biting, but I was just happy to be able to enjoy a little more time in my girly clothes and makeup.

Eventually, though, we used the bathroom at my house to get ready for bed. Brooke took a little extra time and put all of our hair into cute dancer-buns to sleep in and then we went to the tent.

Like I said, it was a pretty big tent. They told me it was a ten-man tent, but I bet you could get more than that in there pretty easily. The four air mattresses were already inflated and there were pillows and a sleeping bag rolled up on each one. I'd brought my sleep shorts with me and a clean tee shirt, and the girls each had a pair of PJs folded on the pillows.

Melissa and Elena turned on a couple of battery operated lanterns that were there for our convenience as well.

"This is really nice," I said, impressed. "Do you guys go camping much?"

"Only in our back yard," Elena chuckled.

"We used to," Melissa explained, "when mom and dad were talking to each other, but it got pretty tense in a tent when they were fighting."

I nodded because I understood. My parents didn't fight that much, but as I remembered our house with both of them living there, things were always pretty chilly between them. I don't think a tent would have been a good idea - even one this big.

Suddenly, Melissa had her back to me and was about to start changing.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Brooke warned.

"Oh!" Melissa said with a laugh. "I guess I forgot you were a guy. She reached up and dropped a panel down, creating a private room in the tent so she could change.

Brooke did the same to a panel by me. "You can change in there." Then she looked at my rolled up shorts and tee and took them from me and looked at Elena. "Hey, El. Want to be a boy tonight?"

Elena laughed. "Sure."

She handed Brooke a neat pile of pink and white checked material.

"Here," Brooke smiled as she handed me her youngest sister's PJs. "Keep your bra and panties on. It'll be more fun for you."

"Yeah?" I asked, uncertainly.

"Sure," she shrugged. "Why not?"

"Ok," I nodded.

Well, it wasn't PJs. It was a very cute, gingham style night gown. It had kind of wide straps over the shoulder, with these ruffles over the chest area, then it just fell loosely to above my knees. Obviously, it was nothing like anything I'd ever worn before and I couldn't believe I was wearing it at that moment. I glanced towards the dividing panel to see if anyone was watching. No one was. I swayed from side to side a bit and it swayed freely about me in such an odd and childish... no... not childish... girlish... way. I couldn't believe I was wearing it, or that I my hair was in a bun, or that I was sharing the tent with three really sweet and pretty girls. It was like every fantasy I'd ever had was coming true!

"Everything ok in there?" Brooke asked.

"I guess," I replied.

"Can I raise the panel?" she asked.

I took a deep breath. "I guess."

When she did, there were three sets of eyes looking at me and three sets of lips smiling at me.

"Aww, you look better than I do in that," Elena said, definitely looking better than I ever did in my ratty shorts and tee shirt.

"Very cute," Brooke said, strangely approvingly. "I like it."

"What do you mean you like it?" I asked.

"I mean," she said, "that I really like how you look right now, and..." she turned to her sisters, "if you two will excuse us, I think that Brook and I need to take a little walk together and talk a bit."

"Ohhh," Melissa said, nudging Elena, then she sang. "Brooke and Brook sitting in a tree..."

"Shut up," Elena said abruptly.

"What's the matter with you?" Melissa said, surprised.

Elena just shook her head at the childish behavior of her older sister.

"We'll be back," Brooke said as she took my hand and unzipped the 'door' to the tent.

"I can't go out there," I said, petrified.

"Of course you can," she said, taking my hand. "It's dark and the yard is fenced in. Come on."

Once again, I was taken by the hand like a child and led by Brooke, this time into the darkness of their yard. She was wearing a tiny, blue tank top with lace around the breasts and tiny, slightly darker blue shorts.

She led me away from the tent, down a little hill, far enough away from the tent so she and I could speak quietly without being over heard.

She laid down in the grass and patted the grass beside her. "Come on," she said. "Lay down here beside me."

Feeling more vulnerable and exposed in the little nightie than I would have naked, I did my best to tuck the skirt of the nightie under me and keep my knees together as I joined her in the grass. At first, we were both on our backs looking at the stars, but after ten minutes or so of quiet talking, she got up on one elbow and looked at me.

She heaved a big sigh before she spoke. "Look, Brook, I have to admit a few things to you right now."

"Like what?"

She thought for a moment. "Ok, umm... I like you, ok. That's the first thing."

"I like you, too," I said.

She shook her head. "That's not what I mean, Brook. I mean I LIKE you. Like... I REALLY LIKE you, and here's the thing, Brook - I've never been the first one to say that to someone else, so that's really weird for me."

"Brooke," I said, "I REALLY like you, too. I really do, and believe me, me saying that at all is a lot weirder than you saying it first."

She let out a little laugh at that. "Ok, but... I don't want this to sound mean, but... you are really different than any other guy I've ever... like-liked before. They've all been..."

"Handsome?"

"You're handsome, Brook. Better yet, you're pretty. No... they've all been... bigger than me. You know... taller and... stronger. This time... I'm the bigger one... the stronger one... and I kind of like that, too."

I just looked at her. What she was saying was certainly true. If she was going to like me, then that's the way it was going to have to be. I was never going to be bigger or stronger than her. That's just the way I was made.

Then she ran a finger down the ruffles of my nightie, between the little breasts created by the bra I'd borrowed from Elena. "Now... here's the weirdest part. I really like it when you look like this."

"Like a girl?"

"No." She played with the ruffles. "Like you, but like a pretty you. Yeah, girlish, I guess, but still you." She ran her finger down my belly and played it over the lump of my penis held captive in Elena's soft panties. "I'm definitely not interested in a girl, Brook, but... seeing you looking so pretty in that cute little nightie and knowing that you're a guy and that you have this..." she flattened her palm gently against my tool, "I can't tell you how exciting that is. I've never thought about a guy like this before." She began massaging me through the nightie and panties and I became rock hard immediately.

She bent low and kissed my lips, softly, but firmly, and she held her lips there for so long, that I raised my arms and wrapped them gently around her neck.

Soon, her tongue worked its way in between my lips and deep into my mouth and she grabbed me down below and squeezed a bit harder. In response, I cautiously slid my hand down her neck and caressed her breast, ready to pull it away if she acted shocked by my actions, but instead, she leaned into my hand and moaned quietly, encouraging me to play with her nipple.

Finally she ended the kiss and raised her head, pressing her chest more firmly against my hand. She stopped manipulating my penis long enough to raise the skirt of my nightie and lower the front of my panties far enough to allow my tool to pop out free of its restraints and she smiled down at me in the semi darkness and whispered, "Am I the first girl you've ever done this with?"

I nodded.

That seemed to please her. She lowered the cup of her lace covered tank top to reveal her beautiful breast, put an arm under my head and leaned a bit lower so I could kiss and suckle her. "Go ahead, Brook."

I took her nipple into my mouth and played with it with my tongue and felt an immediate connection with her. Then I suckled as I continued to play with her nipple and she looked down at me as if I was a child. "Careful, my little one," she whispered. "Not too hard. I'll have a hard time explaining bruises there," she giggled.

Then her hand found my penis again and she wrapped her warmth around it and began running her hand up and down the shaft. No one but me had ever touched me there and no one but me had ever done that to me and, believe me, I had never been that gentle!

"I never thought I'd be attracted to a pretty little guy with long hair that I could put up into a bun. A little guy who would look so cute in a pink and white nightie. But here I am. I think you are just adorable and I am completely taken with you, my pretty, little, girly boy."

She bent low and kissed my neck gently and increased the speed of her hand on my shaft. "So little, so soft and so pretty," she whispered over and over again until I couldn't stand it any more and I burst in a torrent of unfeminine juices all over her hand. "Oops, look what you've done," she teased. "What a messy little thing you are."

"I... I..." I sputtered, uncertain as to whether or not I had done something wrong.

"Don't worry," she smiled. "I'll take care of that." From somewhere, she produced what must have been the pair of panties she'd worn that day and she wiped up the mess I'd made. Then she raised the waist band of my panties to cover my spent organ and lowered the skirt of the nightie.

She leaned over and hugged me tightly. "What do you think the chances are that I could keep you dressed like this twenty four seven?"

"What do you think the chance are that my dad would allow me to live for three seconds if he ever saw me dressed this way?" I asked as we both stood up.

"What if my mother buffered it for you?"

"Oh, come on," I laughed. "Your mom is a beautiful woman, but this is a lot for any father to deal with, and my father doesn't like how I look to begin with. Heck, I don't even know what I look like and I'm pretty sure even I'd be upset if I were my son."

Brooke shook her head. "What a waste. Well, we're definitely going to have to figure out how to find some girlfriend time when your dad is at work."

I sighed. "We'll see."

When we got back to the tent, Melissa and Elena were already half asleep. We crawled into our individual sleeping bags and I could hear Brooke's breathing change to sleep mode pretty quickly. I was too enamored of the new feelings my body was registering from having my hair done up in a bun and being in this pretty little gingham nightie to fall asleep quickly. It took me a good long while to drift off.

That's probably why I was still asleep in the morning when Mrs Kerr and my dad started yelling outside the tent.

"Come on lazy bones! The day is half over! Let's go! Come on! We want to take you all to brunch! You're holding us up! Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!"

We all sprung awake.

"Ok!" Brooke shouted. "We'll be right out!" As we all blinked the sleep out of our eyes.

We all jumped out of our sleeping bags and Melissa was about to open the tent door when Brooke stopped her. "Hold on! El. You and Brook need to switch clothes!" She hissed.

"Oh, shit!" I whispered.

I dropped the panel on my side of the tent and took off the nightie as quickly as I could and handed it through. Within seconds, Elena had handed my ratty PJs back to me and I was putting them on.

Melissa was unzipping the door, but Brooke whispered, "Your hair! Your hair! Your hair!" And started undoing my bun as quickly as she could.

It seemed like it took forever, but we got out of the tent pretty quickly.

"Well, there's a motley crew, if ever I saw one," my father teased.

"What time is it?" I asked, yawning.

"Nine thirty," he laughed. "Half the day is gone. Come on. Let's go get you changed and we can go to breakfast with these beautiful ladies."

"Ok," I agreed and headed home with him.

As we walked, he asked. "Have a good time yesterday?"

"Yeah," I smiled. "We had a great time. I'd never seen the ocean before. It was great."

He nodded. "What about the hair?"

"What about it?" I asked, not understanding what he meant.

"It's all wavy. How did that happen? Did you sleep in curlers of something?"

I touched my hair and shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe it was wet when I went to sleep or something. I didn't even have it in a pony tail last night."

He glanced over his shoulder as we rounded the corner of the fence into our yard and then, as soon as he was sure that no one could see, he grabbed me by my arm. "Listen, Brook, I told you to be careful with that girl. I know she's pretty and you're a little guy, but I will not have her turn you into her little doll, you got me?"

'Yeah, but that's not what happened, dad..."

"Yeah," he started to sound angry, "well I saw a picture of a dessert that one of the girls sent her mother and I saw you in that picture and I'm not sure what you were wearing, but it sure as hell didn't look like any shirt I ever bought you. What the hell were you doing prancing around in girls' clothing."

"Dad, come on... it was just a shirt. Mine got wet and I had to borrow one to go to dinner. It was no big deal. It was just a plaid shirt. Nothing out of the ordinary."

We were at the foot of our backstairs and he swung me to face him. "Tell me the truth, Brook... are you a fairy?"

"What?"

He shook my arm really hard. "You heard me. Are you a fairy? A queer? A fag?"

"No dad and your hurting me. In fact... I really like Brooke and last night she told me she really liked me too. In fact... we're talking about going out together."

He let me go and thought about that for a moment. "Alright. Well... go get changed. I'll wait here. Make it quick. Wear something nice. We're going to the diner in town."

"Ok," I nodded and ran up the stairs and unlocked the door.

I hurried into the house, kind of wondering what my father might have said if I had told him that I'd slept in a pink nightie, but I was more concerned about getting ready quickly. I hustled into my room, grabbed one of the two polo shirts I owned, a clean pair of boxer-briefs and I pulled off my shirt and sleep-shorts. It was then that I realized I'd need to discreetly dispose of the panties I'd been wearing. For the time being, though, I just wrapped them up in the tee shirt I'd worn that night and I'd hide them in the hamper until I did the laundry. I'd deal with them then.

Then I realized that I had a big problem!

My jeans were still next door at the Kerr's. I'd left them there the day before when I put on the shorts.

I grabbed my phone off the charger where I'd left it the night before and called Brooke and explained the situation.

"I'll be over in ten minutes with them," she said.

"Yeah, well, before you come running over, my dad is sitting on the back stairs and he doesn't know that I wore Elena's shorts."

"Then tell him you wore your sleep-shorts. What difference does it make?"

"Why would I change into my sleep shorts at your house?"

"I don't know..." she hugged. "How about... you were going to bring your jeans, but we told you to leave them because it was too hot. Ok?"

I calmed down. "Yeah, ok. Hurry, though, ok?"

"Ok. I'll be there as soon as I can."

I grabbed my dirty clothes and ran into the bathroom and threw them into the hamper. Then I grabbed my hair brush and went to work on my hair, brushing it as well as I could. Then, I grabbed a black hair tie and made a point tail, again as best I could. I knew it wasn't done as well done as Brooke would have done it, but what else could I do for right then?

"Hey, Chef!" My dad shouted, kind of laughing, "your pants are here!"

I rolled my eyes and hurried to the door. I opened it and leaned out, trying to keep my lower body out of sight, and I reached out to grab my jeans.

"So, how exactly did you end up leaving your pants in Brooke's room?" my dad said, with a snarky look on his face.

"I was going to take them with me, but Brooke told me to leave them behind because it was too hot," I explained.

"Yeah, sure," he said, his voice full of innuendo.

I took the jeans from him, stepped back into the house and pulled them on. "I'm ready," I said, stepping out the door.

Brooke smirked at me. "You did ok on your hair."

"Did I?"

"No," she giggled, "but it's ok. Let's go eat breakfast. I'll help you with it later."

Actually, despite my concerns that someone might mention how I was dressed the previous day or share a picture that would raise an eyebrow (or worse), we had a really nice brunch. Dad and Mrs Kerr seemed to be getting along really well, but I was concerned that, should they, at some point, have a falling out, it could interfere with Brooke and me.

We took the rest of that day as an R&R day and even had some fun throwing around a frisbee in the back yard. That evening, Brooke and I did have a little alone time watching TV, but it wasn't 'alone' enough to revisit the intimacy we'd had the previous night.

The next day, I got dad off to work and got back to my chores, including mowing the lawn, which Brooke helped me with. She heard our push-mower running and came to my rescue. They had one of those John Deere lawn tractors, and she said it was way too hot to be mowing with a push mower, so she took over and had our little yard done in like fifteen minutes.

My dad had left me some money to go grocery shopping and he and Mrs Kerr had already discussed having Brooke take me to the Costco a couple of towns over so I could do the monthly stocking up on non-perishables and frozen things.

Brooke had a list of things to get, too. They didn't have a membership, but they'd use ours.

Since they had nothing else to do, Elena and Melissa tagged along, too. Mrs Kerr gave Brooke a credit card and told her not to spend more than five hundred dollars. My jaw nearly hit the ground. My dad would never trust me with his credit card, number one, and number two, five hundred dollars was a major amount of money in our household. If he gave me some 'fun' money, it was like five bucks, not five hundred!

Brooke and I picked up the paper goods and frozen products on our lists and I got some butter, flour and some cooking oil and other cooking products that I go through pretty quickly while Elena and Melissa went shopping for clothes and treats.

When we were done, we went to find the younger girls so we could check out.

Melissa had gotten a new pair of sandals and a pair of shorts while Elena had gotten a bucket of strawberry twists and a pretty sundress.

"That's really nice," Brooke said, looking at the dress. "Where did you get that?"

"Over this way," Elena said, leading us towards the middle of the warehouse where a substantial display of reasonably priced clothing was set up.

Within a few moments, Brooke had picked out a beautiful summer dress for herself.

"Where do you plan to wear that?" Melissa asked.

"I'll just have to create an occasion," Brooke smirked. She carefully laid the dress in her cart, then looked through the dresses some more, pulling out a very pretty, sage green sun dress. It was nothing really fancy. Just a V neck top with short bell sleeves, a natural waist line, a three tiered skirt that would probably fall to above the knee of the wearer and six oversized buttons down the front enclosure. It was probably too small for Brooke.

"That's pretty don't you think?" she asked me.

"Very," I agreed.

Then she shocked me by holding it up against me. "It'd look pretty on you."

"Stop that," I said, pushing it aside and turning sideways so she couldn't do it again.

"Why?" She looked incredulous. "I want to buy it for you."

"Brooke, you can't just do something like that. I might know someone here. Worse yet, my father might know someone here."

"That's silly," she shook her head. "Boys wear dresses now. At my old school, at least three or four boys wore dresses and makeup to school everyday. You told me you enjoyed it. You shouldn't have to deprive yourself of some fun. Maybe you and I should sit down with your dad and have a chat."

Even though I knew he was at work, I looked around in a panic that he might actually be somewhere close by. "God, don't even joke around about that! The other morning he asked me if I was 'a queer' because my hair was wavy when you took my bun out."

'See," Brooke pouted, "that bun was really cute and I'd like to see you looking like that some more and we can't do stuff like that unless we talk to your dad."

"No," I said, flatly. "Absolutely not. No way. Not now. Not later. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not the next. Not in a week. Not in a month..."

Elena, without looking up from the dress rack, interrupted my panicked screed with, "I would not, could not in a box. I would not, could not with a fox. I will not tell him with a mouse. I will not tell him in a house. I will not tell him here or there. I will not tell him anywhere." Then she smiled at me. "I will not say a girl I am. I will not say that, Sam-I-Am."

Then she looked at Brooke. "You know you're being a bully, right?"

Brooke tsk-ed and shook her head. "You saw how cute he looked in your nightie, El. Some boys are just meant to wear dresses."

"Stop it," Elena shook her head and took my hand. "Come on. We are going to take a break and take a look at the yard furniture. There's a really nice wooden swing I'm going to tell my mom she should buy for our back yard. I want your opinion on it." She looked at Melissa and Brooke. "You two go shopping for ten minutes. I think we all need a break."

"Wow," I said as we walked to the yard furniture section and sat on a very lovely, wooden swing with a canopy top that cost a pretty penny. It had a nice padded seat, too. "I didn't think anyone spoke to Brooke that way."

Elena shrugged. "Usually Brooke is right, but like I said... this time she was being a bully."

We sat and let the swing calm things for a few moments. Then, out of the blue, Elena asked, "Do you want to wear dresses?"

I shrugged. "You know, I really don't know. I know that seems like a stupid answer, but..." I was trying to form an answer, but Elena took my silence for an opening.

"No, not really. I mean being born a girl means that I can wear whatever I want, so I don't really have to explain my choices, but if I started wearing really butch fashions... well... I'm sure I'd probably have to answer some questions, you know?"

I looked at her closely. "Are you really just fourteen?"

She shook her head. "Nope. I'm twelve. I'll be thirteen next month. Mel is fourteen. Why?"

"Because I don't think I ever said anything as insightful as you just said in my whole life," I said.

She giggled. "The other night I was looking at you in my nightgown and I started thinking about what that must be like for a guy and I wrote about it in my journal. That's how I think through things. I write about it in my journal until I reach a conclusion."

"What did you come up with?"

She shrugged. "I think you must like it, right? Or else you wouldn't do it? Even if Brooke asked you to. Can I ask you a really simple question?"

"Sure?"

"Do you wish you were a girl?"

I thought for a second. "No. I don't think I do. I just wish I could be more LIKE a girl without being judged for it. I've found that I do like looking pretty and I'd like to do that without being afraid of getting beaten up for it."

"Ok," she smiled. "I think I understand you, now. Thank you, Brook." She squeezed my hand and smiled.

I felt really good for having said that out loud, too.

We sat there for a few moments, then Elena said, "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"Sometimes, I wish I was a boy."

'Really?" I was surprised. "Why?"

She thought for a moment. "I think... I think I like girls. You know what I mean? Like when I'm with girls and they talk about boys... I just don't get excited the way they do. But then... sometimes I think the same things they think about boys... but about girls."

"So... you think you're a lesbian?" I asked as tactfully as I could, considering I just found out that Elena was twelve years old.

"Yeah," she said matter of factly. "Maybe. I don't know for sure, but I just think it would be easier to feel like that if I were a boy. That's all. Does that make sense?"

"Perfect sense," I admitted. I squeezed her hand the way she'd squeezed mine. "Can I tell YOU something, now?"

"Sure."

"I think you might be the smartest human being I have ever met in my life."

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah. That's what people tell me. It's a curse." She giggled and suddenly seemed more like a little girl than the sage I'd been taking with. "May I make one suggestion?"

"Of course," I said, looking at my watch and realizing that the others would be headed our way soon.

"Let her buy you the dress. You know you want it, right? So let her buy it. You don't have to wear it. Put it in your closet as a fantasy and maybe... someday... it'll be a wonderful thing for you to wear... maybe not... and maybe... that precocious, cute girl next door who loaned you her nightie one night could borrow it to go out to dinner or something." She smiled and stuck the tip of her tongue out just a little and made me laugh out loud.

'Ok," I laughed. "Let's go find them."

When we got home, I helped the Kerrs bring in their purchases and then we drove Brooke's Jeep over to our house and unloaded our purchases and put away everything. The last thing I put away was that green dress and I have to admit that I stood at the door of my closet holding that dress on its hanger and looking at it for a long, long time, wondering what it would be like to get all dressed up and going out in it.

And it made my heart flutter just thinking about it.

Finally, I hung it way over to the left in my closet, the part of my closet that kind of extended in behind my wall. Then I took this long, shiny, green, Macintosh style rain slicker that I had for wearing when I had to wait for the school bus on rainy days, and I hung it next to the dress so that it couldn't be seen.

And there it remained - my hidden treasure.

Over the next couple of weeks, Brooke and I got a bit more adventurous and playful with my hair - always when my father was at work, of course. Brooke got creative with her curling iron to give me fullness, or waviness, or even big round curls. Each different look made me want to explore my feminine options more and more - AND - each different look made Brooke more and more amorous and I found myself being the one constantly putting the breaks on our activities.

Of course, I still had to keep up my cooking and cleaning and other housekeeping responsibilities, so my hair adventures would take place in the morning and then have to be undone in the afternoon before my dad came home. When dad got home, the house was always clean, the laundry was always done and dinner was always on the table - and my hair was always in a ponytail and looking as natural as it had the day before.

She bought me a few more dresses, too, but I didn't do anything more than try them on before they took residence behind my green slicker. They were all a little too pretty to just throw on for a few hours and wear around the house. They all would have needed some nice undies to go with them. So, in my closet they remained.

Except for this one, mustard yellow tee shirt dress that she bought me. It honestly looked just like a regular tee shirt except it was the length of a dress. At first I thought it was a nightshirt, but Brooke assured me it was a dress and showed me the picture of it on the web site from which she'd ordered it.

Well, I tried it on and it was really, really comfortable. So, since I was doing the laundry that day, I threw my jeans in the washer and spent the morning in the dress. No bra or anything, mind you, just the dress, and Brooke did my hair nicely in a messy bun.

It was fun. I had a good time doing my chores and cooking in the loose dress, and Brooke had a good time teasing me and being fresh with her hands whenever possible. It was a fun day, but it nearly ended in disaster.

I was folding the laundry just moments after I'd put a fish casserole for both my family and Brooke's into the oven, and Brooke was straightening my hair and putting it back into it's usually evening ponytail when my dad pulled into the driveway almost an hour early. We didn't even notice he was there until we heard him on the the stairs! There was no way I could make it to my bedroom without being seen, so I grabbed my jeans from the pile of clean clothes and bolted into the bathroom just before he stepped into the kitchen.

"Hi, Mr Chapin," I heard Brooke greeting my dad. "You're home early."

"Hi," dad said, sounding surprised to see Brooke and not me. "Yeah, I am. I had a dental appointment. Where's the chef?"

At that moment, I stepped out of the bathroom with my tee shirt dress tucked into my jeans like a tee shirt and the sound of the toilet flushing ringing in the hallway. "Dad?" I said, sounding surprised. "You're home early."

"Yeah," he laughed. "I went to the dentist. Something smells good."

"Oh, yeah," I smiled. "Seafood casserole. I wish I knew you were coming home early. I would have put it in earlier."

"Oh, yeah, well, I lost a filling during lunch and the dentist had an opening so I left work early and had the filling replaced. No big deal. This will give me time to shower." He walked away from us towards his room and we didn't see him again until dinner, but it was far too close a call for me.

"No more playing dress up," I whispered to Brooke.

She just sighed at me as if I was no fun. I think she enjoyed the close call.

We still had plenty of fun, though, but everyday Brooke asked me what I was going to do about my crossdressing in the long term and my response was always, "I don't know."

Several times I said that I wished I could leave my hair nicely done so we could go out to a movie or something and Brooke would say, "Then we have to talk to your father," but I would just sigh and shake my head.

More than once I talked about wanting to get my ears pierced and Brooke would say, "Then we have to talk to your father," but I would just sigh and say 'nope.'

We, the Kerr girls and I, went to a fireworks display one summer night, and it was really hot and I mentioned that I wished that I could wear one of those nice, cool, summer dresses in my closet, and Brooke said, "Then we have to talk to your father," but I just sighed and shook my head.

There was no way I could talk to my father about this. I didn't know how he'd do it, but I knew he'd kill me, if he knew I wanted to wear dresses.

So, we just played our dress-up games. I figured it'd end when school started, anyway. We did have a couple of outings of course, another trip to Maine and one to Cape Cod, and each of those afforded me the opportunity to wear something of Elena's. I never dared to go as far as a dress, of course, but cute shorts with a pretty top was the norm. It was fun. I was one of the sisters as far as the rest of the world was concerned snd I loved that.

It was the second week of August and we had planned a trip to another beach, but the weather forecast wasn't with us, so we decided to stay home and have a movie day at the Kerr's house with the monstrously huge TV they'd had installed in their living room. Dad had taken a vacation day to spend with Mrs Kerr, assuming that he'd have their house alone with her, but we messed that up on him. So, they decided to take a trip to Yankee Candle Factory somewhere out in the western part of the state. To tell you the truth, the idea of my father going to a perfumed candle factory made me laugh a bit. He must really have been smitten with Mrs Kerr.

Anyway, they left late in the morning and we set up camp in the Kerr's living room. A huge bowl of freshly popped, buttered popcorn, cookies and brownies that I'd baked from scratch the night before, cans of very unhealthy soda and lots of equally unhealthy candy combined with every streaming service known to mankind.

We started with a Disney movie called 'The Princess and The Frog,' a film that they all knew by heart, but I'd never seen before.

"How can you have never seen this before?" Melissa asked, shocked. "It's like the best movie ever!"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I just never saw it."

"Unbelievable," she said, despairingly.

I liked the movie, though. It was colorful and funny and the songs were really good, especially one called "Almost There" that the lead character sang.

That was followed up by a movie called 'Mean Girls' that was really funny. I recognized a lot of the actors in the movie from other movies and TV shows I had seen.

The day went on like that, one movie after another. Each one was great and they were all new to me.

By mid afternoon, the rain was coming down really hard outside. The thunder and lightning was putting on a sound and light show of its own that was pretty cool. We took a break to eat grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup for supper and sat on their screened in porch to watch the rain come down.

At about six o'clock, the girls got a text from their mom. 'WE'RE BACK, BUT WE DON'T WANT TO BOTHER YOU. WE'LL WATCH TV AT VIC'S FOR A WHILE. ENJOY!'

That was cool.

Eventually, we were back in front of the TV watching movies. We were about an hour into 'Miss Congeniality' when I got a text from my dad. 'GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE AND I MEAN NOW.'

I sat up quickly, catching Brooke's attention. "What's wrong?"

"I don't know." I showed her my phone.

Just then, Mrs Kerr came in from the rain in my long, shiny, green, Macintosh style slicker. "Oh shit!" I said in a panic.

"Hi, everyone!" Mrs Kerr half sang. "Brook, I hope you don't mind. Your dad loaned me your rain coat to get home in this deluge."

"Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit," I muttered as I stood and pulled on my sneakers. "I'm dead. I am so fucking dead."

"Calm down, Brook," Brooke said, trying to hold onto me, "it'll be ok."

"What's going on?" Mrs Kerr asked, taking off the slicker, suddenly concerned.

"I'll explain in a minute," Brooke said to her, then she said to me, "I'll go with you and tell him it was all my doing."

"No!" I shouted, too loudly. "That'll just make it worse."

"No, I'm going," Brooke argued, but I grabbed my coat from Mrs Kerr and Mrs Kerr grabbed Brooke by the arm.

The last thing I heard as I ran out the door was Mrs Kerr asking, "Explain to me exactly what is going on here."

I ran home as quickly as I could in the rain. I was petrified of what awaited me, but even more scared of what dad would do if I made him wait.

He was standing in the kitchen when I came in the back door.

"Dad, I can explain..." I tried, but I stopped when he threw one of my dresses at me and it hit me in the face.

"Dresses!?" he shouted. "What the fuck are you doing in this house - IN MY HOUSE - when I am at work? Are you dressing up like a girl and going out looking for boys or something?"

"Dad, no..."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU LITTLE LYING FAIRY," my father screamed at me, his face less than an inch from mine. "Do you have any idea how hard I work to put food on the table and keep a roof over your head? And while I'm out breaking my back, you're here flouncing around like some little Tinkerbell, embarrassing me in front of my neighbors. Well, that's just fucking wonderful!"

"Dad..."

"I told you to shut up!"

I never even saw the backhanded slap that he hit me with. I only knew that my head snapped sideways and my world began spinning. "Dad..." I muttered, feeling disoriented.

"Enough" I heard, but I felt a slap that knocked me in the other direction.

"Please..."

Another slap.

"Dad..." my world was spinning and dimming and I was getting confused as to what was happening. All I felt was pain and confusion. I opened my mouth and I think I tried to speak, but if anything came out it probably wasn't coherent. It didn't seem to matter much, though because my dad was yelling and slapping me pretty much nonstop at that point.

As things started to dim, I heard some things that I remembered later - Faggot - Fairy - Liar - Mr Chapin - Stop! - Out! - Vic! - Stop it!...

Then... darkness.

The next thing I remember is the bitter smell of ammonia from the smelling salts that the EMTs were using to revive me and a woman with a slightly deep voice was saying, "...that's it sweetie... you're going to be ok. Just relax. Don't try to sit up. Relax."

Then I saw Brooke beside me, leaning over me, holding something onto my face and looking out of sorts.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Your father beat the shit out of you, that's what happened," Brooke spat.

That cleared my head faster than smelling salts ever could. "Oh," I said and tried to sit up, but the EMT pushed me back down.

"No. You just stay right there for a few minutes. I'll let you know when you can get up." She shined a light in my eyes and pulled my eyelids wide open.

"Is he ok?" Brooke asked.

"I don't see any sign of concussion," the EMT said, "but he's pretty bruised up."

"Where's my dad?" I asked and that's the first I was aware of the pain in my jaw.

"The asshole is in the living room with the police."

"The police!? Ahh..." As I was regaining my senses, everything was starting to hurt. "Who called the police?"

"I did." Brooke looked at me and shook her head. "He was going to kill you, Brook. My mom couldn't even pull him off of you. When you fell down, he was kicking you! We had to call the police."

I tried to sit up, again, but even if the EMT hadn't pushed me back, I don't think I was ready to. "This is all my fault. I have to talk to them."

"YOUR fault?" Brooke shook her head. "That animal beat you half to death and this is YOUR fault? You must have a concussion. You're not making any sense." That was when I realized that Brooke was holding one of those chemical ice packs on my face. She moved it to another spot and the act of touching a new area sent a wave of pain through me as if I was being slapped all over again. "Ooh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said. "I'll be gentle." She bent low and kissed my forehead. "I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry."

The EMT returned her attention to me and said, "Can you understand what I'm telling you, sweetheart?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Ok, good." She smiled as reassuringly as possible. "We're going to transport you to the university hospital just for an overnight observation, ok? We want to make sure you don't have any internal injuries and it might be best if the doctors had a good look at you, too. They might be able to help with the pain, too. Ok?"

"Ok," I grunted back. Actually, the pain was starting to come on pretty strong at that point.

"Can I go with him?" Brooke asked.

"I'm afraid, not," the EMT said with an understanding tone. "He's eighteen, so he'll have to go alone."

"Can I meet him there?"

"Well, I doubt they'll let you see him for several hours..." she said, then walked away to avoid saying anything more disappointing.

"What about my dad?" I asked before she went too far away, and the effort of raising my voice really hurt.

"I... will ask," she said with a sad smile.

"I hope he goes to jail," Brooke said, but honestly that was the last thing I wanted. What would I do if my dad went to jail? I had no one else.

Eventually a police officer came to where I was laying. The EMT'S raised me up and that was when I realized I was on a gurney. The officer was pretty young, actually. Probably only a few years older than me. "Hey! How you doing?" she asked cheerfully.

"I've been better," I groaned.

"I bet," she nodded. "Ok, so, look... you're going to have to go to the hospital for the night, ok? And your dad is going to go with us for tonight..."

"No, no," I groaned out. "Please. It wasn't his fault. I got him mad at me. He never did this before..." I tried to sit up again, but she pushed me back.

"Ok, calm down, calm down..." the officer said. "It doesn't matter. He's going with us and tomorrow morning he'll face a judge and enter a plea..."

I don't know what else she said because I was crying hysterically at that point and begging them not to arrest my father. Brooke bent down and hugged me gently to keep my convulsions at bay as I sobbed and sobbed and begged and begged, but they pulled her off of me as they strapped me to the gurney and began to take me out to the ambulance. I think I heard my dad shouting apologies to me, but I was making too much noise and I was in too much physical and emotional pain for his voice to make its way to my brain. I really don't know what was going on and I blacked out again until the next morning when I woke up in the hospital.
 
 
To Be Continued...

A Boy Called Brook: Summer 4 by Clara Copyright© 2022, 2024 Clara Schumann   Brook wakes up in the hospital with lots of bruises and a lot of things to think about.

Thank you to everyone who has commented so far! I wish to thank Sephrena for her assistance with the html and to all of my reviewers for their kind reviews and support of my work.
Please, I would love for you to let me know what you think about my story, leave a review, it can be good or bad (not too harsh please!)
I am always willing to learn! ~Clara.
 
 
Summer 4
 

"Well, welcome back," a nurse said. She was typing something into a computer near the left side of my bed and smiling at me when I stirred. "Don't try to move too much. You'll be pretty sore for a day or two. The good news is, you don't have any severe injuries. The bad news is, you're pretty badly bruised up and you're going to feel those bruises for a week or so. Nothing is permanent, though, so you'll be your old self in no time." She put an oxygen reading device on my finger and said. "You have a visitor." I figured it must be Brooke. "Your little sister has been here for hours, waiting for you to wake up." She smiled and motioned with her head to my right.

I turned and saw Elena standing by my bedside. "Hi, Brook. They didn't want to let me in, but I didn't want you to wake up alone." She smiled sweetly at me. "You really had me worried. You look like crap." She giggled a little, but her eyes watered, too.

"Hi, El," I whispered, my voice working less well than my very stiff jaw. "How long have you been here?"

"A couple of hours. I came with the Kerrs. They're out in the waiting room. They'd only let family in." She smiled an impish grin that told me to just go along with what she was saying.

I held up a weak hand and she took it in hers. "Are you ok?" She asked, suddenly sounding serious.

I shrugged a little. "I guess. Everything hurts and... I'm kind of scared."

"Don't be," she smiled. "Lots of people love you."

"I wish that was true," I sighed and I probably would have cried if I had any tears left.

Knowing better than argue, Elena looked at the nurse and asked, "When can he leave?"

"Oooooh..." the nurse said, looking at her paperwork, "in a few hours, I'd expect. A doctor will be in to talk to him soon and she'll make that determination. As long as there's someone to drive him home, though, he should be able to go home this afternoon some time."

The nurse smiled at both of us and then her smile faded a little. "I think a social worker is coming in, too. Usually in these cases of domestic violence... well... you understand." She looked from Elena to me. "It's nice to have a sister at a time like this, isn't it? It's a very special bond that sisters share. Something that you'll never share with anyone else." She patted my shoulder a bit. "Well, would you like me to bring in your other guests?" Now her smile was beaming, as if everything was alright.

I nodded. "Yes, please."

"Ok," she said. "Give me just a minute or two and they'll be right in."

When the nurse had left, I looked at Elena and asked, "Why did they think you were my sister?"

"Because I told them I was," she smiled. "I don't have an ID - no one my age does - so, a few tears, some begging and they believed me." She smiled at her deviousness. "Seriously, the idea of you being in here alone was making me sick. I wanted to come in and be with you. We all did, but I was the only one young enough to fib my way in. Well... 'fib' is such an ugly word."

That made me laugh, but laughing really hurt. As a matter of fact, I hurt in a lot more places than I had the night before. My face hurt, my stomach hurt, my arms hurt, my back hurt, my legs hurt... I guess everything hurt, pretty much.

"Oh, my God," Brooke said as she came into the room, "look what that son of a bitch did to you." She was crying as she ran to me and wrapped me in an incredibly painful hug.

"You're hurting him, Brooke," Mrs Kerr said, softly. When Brooke had let go, Mrs Kerr asked, "How are you, honey?"

"I'm ok, I guess..."

"Bullshit," Brooke said, but I kept going.

"... and I should be going home today."

"You're not going home. You're staying with us." Brooke proclaimed.

"Brooke," Mrs Kerr tried to strike a reasonable tone, "family dynamics are very difficult. We can't just jump into the middle of things we know nothing about. Yes, we'll be there as a safety net..."

"Mom!"

"... AS A SAFETY NET, but Brook and his father have a lot to work out together and whatever the courts recommend... well... that's what we are going to adhere to."

"Like fucking hell," Brooke said, shocking me by speaking to her mother that way, but no one else in the room even raised an eyebrow. "If you won't see reason, then I'm putting him into the Jeep and taking him up to dad's where he'll be safe."

"Now, calm down, Brooke. You promised to be levelheaded. This isn't doing him any good." Mrs Kerr was trying hard to keep a lid on things, but Brooke was really wound up.

"Mom... look at him. LOOK at him." She stamped her foot.

"In the hall now. We need to talk." Mrs Kerr pointed to the door.

Brooke crossed her arms and exhaled like she was about to attack.

"The hall. NOW." Mrs Kerr was exerting parental power in a way I'd never seen her do before.

And it worked!

Brooke exhaled in frustration and stormed out of my room. Mrs Kerr looked at me with sympathy. "Brook, honey... I'm so sorry. I'm just glad you're not too badly hurt. We'll be right back." She left and closed the door behind her.

That left me with Elena and Melissa. Now, Melissa is a bit different than her sisters. Kind of self involved. They're all a little spoilt, of course, well - maybe over privileged is a better term - but Melissa is kind of always about... Melissa. That day, though... she wasn't. She was just looking me, trying to come up with the right thing to say.

She looked very closely at my face, most of the rest of me was covered. She examined everything inch of damage and then made eye contact with me. "Does it hurt bad?"

I nodded a little. "Yeah."

"Why did he do it? Because of the girl stuff?"

"Yeah."

Her eyes watered a little. "So... it was our fault?"

"No. It was my fault."

"No, it wasn't," Elena said, but Melissa kept eye contact with me.

"Do you want to be a girl... like us, then?" Melissa ignored her sister.

I shook my head a very little bit. "No. I don’t. I just want to be me. And... and the hair and all... that’s part of me."

"Then why did he hurt you?" I know this might seem like an odd thing to ask someone laying in bed with a billion bruises, but she was being very sincere.

"I guess... I guess he just doesn’t like that part of me." I said.

She squinted and thought a bit. "The first time I saw you, before Brooke ever brushed your hair or anything, I could see that part of you. How come he couldn’t?"

That was a little too much for me and I started crying again. "I don’t know, Mel. I really don’t know."

"Let him, be," Elena said, awkwardly trying to offer comfort as only someone her age can.

"I’m sorry," Melissa said, taking my hand and kissing it. "I didn’t mean to... I’m sorry."

I shook my head a little and sniffled back my tears. "No, don’t be sorry. It’s not you. This is all just too much." I took three or four or ten or fifty steadying breaths and got control of myself again. "I’m telling you the truth, though, Mel... I just don’t know why he didn’t see that part of me when everyone seems to have. But he didn’t and he beat me up because of that. He’s just a very angry man and I never should have lied to him. I knew this would happen eventually."

Brooke and Mrs Kerr reentered the room at that point, but another person came in with them. An older woman with bright blue hair and glasses with frames that matched her hair color perfectly. She wore a kind of tunic length top with what looked like hand embroidered moons and moon flowers all over it. Her whole look was kid of hippy-ish. Like something out of a bad movie about a cool grandma in the 1960s or something.

"Hi, Brook," she said to me, "I’m Cathy Martin. I’m your social worker."

"My social worker?" I asked. I knew that the nurse had said one would come in, but I didn’t really understand why. "I’m not sure why I need a social worker, Ms Martin. I’m eighteen. That makes me an adult, legally, so..."

"Yes, it does, Brook, but you are also the victim of domestic violence AND you are still a high school student and your father is still, technically, your caretaker, and since he is responsible for your health and safety and and he violated that responsibility, we need to discuss your living arrangements... and since you are male, those are pretty tricky."

"What do you mean?" asked Mrs Kerr.

"Well, if Brook were a woman, there are many shelters for abused women. The same is not true for bused men. Especially, young men. Some do exist in more metropolitan areas, but not here. And since Brook is eighteen, that rules out youth housing. So, that brings us to our best option. There is a church operated homeless shelter in Gardner..."

"Gardner!?" Brooke interrupted. "Mom, Gardner that’s so far away."

"Shh," Mrs Kerr held up a finger to Brooke and looked at Ms Martin. "A homeless shelter, Ms Martin? Seriously?"

"I’m sorry. I know that isn’t perfect for someone as young and as small as Brook, but it is the best we have to offer at the moment."

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I was going to living in a homeless shelter?

"Mom," Brooke whispered, panicked.

"Umm," Mrs Kerr interrupted, "why can’t Brook go home?"

"Oh, I’m sorry," Ms Martin shook her head in a ‘how silly of me’ manner. "Brook’s father, Mr... Chapin, was arraigned this morning. He pleaded ‘not guilty’ and a trail date was set. I’m sure you’ll be receiving paperwork about that. Anyway, until that time, Mr Chapin is not allowed to be in contact with his son. So, since Mr Chapin owns the property, that means that Brook is not allowed on the property. Unless, of course, you hire a lawyer and fight that."

"A lawyer?" My head was floating two feet above my body. I couldn’t imaging how all of this was happening. None of it made any sense. "I don’t know any lawyers. I can’t afford a lawyer! I don’t even have a job!"

"Ok. Calm down. You don’t need to hire a lawyer," the social worker said. "An Assistant District Attorney will be representing you, as the victim, at the trial and we’ve found you a room at the shelter, so you have a place to stay until then."

"Yes, you do," Mrs Kerr said, very curtly. "You’ll stay with us."

"Oh?" Ms Martin seemed surprised. "And what is your address?"

Mrs Kerr told her the address and the social worker checked her notes. "Oh... I’m not sure if that is agreeable. See, having him right next..."

"You listen to me, Ms Martin," Mrs Kerr was suddenly a lion protecting me, her adopted cub, "that boy is staying in my home. He is NOT... not under any circumstances... staying in a homeless shelter, do you understand me? If that is not acceptable to the legal system of The Commonwealth of Massachusetts, then you have my address. Send the State Police if you want, but Brook Chapin will be warm and safe and well fed in my home until this matter is resolved. And that is the end of this discussion."

"Well, I will report this option to the court, of course," Cathy Martin said, "but... you may be hearing about alternate arrangements being made. I will be checking in from time to time." She turned and headed for the door.

"I look forward to hearing from you," Mrs Kerr said.

The door closed and Brooke said, "Mom! You’re a badass!" She hugged her and kissed her cheek. "Thank you."

"Damned right, I’m a bad ass," she smirked. "Come on, girls," she said to the younger girls. "Let’s give Brooke and Brook a few minutes."

When they’d left, Brooke came close to my bed and smiled down at me with glistening eyes. "You’re a mess."

"Everything’s a mess."

‘I know," Brooke’s smile faded, "but it’ll get better."

I shook my head a little. "I don’t think so. It’s all my fault."

"Now, that’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard," she said.

"Maybe we should have talked to my father sooner..."

"And maybe he would have beat the crap out of you sooner," she shook her head. "Brook... Maybe we should have done a lot of things, but maybe he shouldn’t have beaten you up. No decent person does that. That’s just the act of a goddamned mean person."

I thought for a moment. "How does that get fixed?"

She shrugged. "I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe your relationship with your father is over."

I shook my head that little bit again. "No. I have to fix it."

"Honey... he just beat the snot out of you. Why do you want to fix your relationship with him?"

"Because he’s my dad," I said, flatly. "Maybe I’m broken or something, but he’s my dad, Brooke. He raised me. My mom threw me away and just. left, but he stayed and took care of me. I love him and even though he messed up really bad last night, I’m pretty sure he still loves me. I mean, I messed up, too. We have to fix this."

She let put a long breath. "Wow, baby... wow. If my dad did to me what your dad did to you I’d just say ‘goodbye’ and send his ass off to jail. Wow." She looked at me for a long time then shrugged. "Ok... we’ll fix this. I don’t know how, but... we’ll fix this."

I was discharged around dinner time and I had a harder time getting dressed than I expected. Everything hurt. Brooke helped, but it wasn’t easy and it took a long time. I couldn’t tighten my belt and my jeans wouldn’t stay up. Since I was in a wheelchair to get from my room to the Kerr’s SUV, that was ok. The bigger problem was the handful of prescriptions in my hand. Yes, I had insurance, but each prescription had a hefty copay, so I had no idea how I was going to deal with them. When Mrs Kerr pulled into the drug store parking lot, I felt a rush of anxiety.

"Ummm... maybe I can pick up my prescriptions tomorrow," I said.

Mrs Kerr looked over her seat back at me. "Brook... you need them now. The anti inflammatory drugs will bring down the swelling, and the pain drugs will help you get comfortable so you can sleep."

I nodded and looked at her and then out the window. I thought for a moment. "I think I’ll be ok."

"It’s ok, Brook," Brooke said, understanding. "I’ll go in with you and take care of it."

I sighed. "I... I don’t think I can make it in. I’m sorry. Maybe tomorrow will be better." I honestly felt like such a weakling. "Please... let’s come back."

"It’s ok, Brook," Elena said from the back seat. "Just wait here. I’ll go with you, Brooke."

They went in, leaving me with Melissa and Mrs Kerr and a lot of awkward silence. It took about ten minutes before they came out and they climbed back into the SUV.

"The pharmacist said to be sure to take the pills with food," Elena said as she climbed in.

"Let’s get some supper on the way home," Mrs Kerr said, "so you can start your medication when we get home."

We stopped at a deli and the Kerr’s all got sandwiches. They got me some potato and bacon soup so I could sip it without having to chew.

Back at their house, I struggled to get into the house without losing my pants, which was a chore. I ate maybe a cup and a half of the soup. It was delicious, but it was hard to eat because it hurt to open my mouth. I had some of it through a straw, but that hurt, too.

I took my meds and within a few minutes the pain killers started numbing the pain a bit and I started feeling better.

" think a nice, hot bath might be a good idea, Brook," Mrs Kerr suggested. "I have the large tub in my bathroom. You can step down into that. I’ll run a nice warm bath and put in some bath salts for you and it’ll make you feel better."

I looked at the stairs and I had some concerns. "I might need some help getting up the stairs," I said. "And... I can’t really tighten my belt, so... I know this sound weird, but... I don’t know if I can get up there with my pants on."

"I’ll help you get up the stairs," Brooke volunteered.

"I’ll get you a robe," Elena said.

"Get him a nightgown, too," Brooke called after her.

"A nightgown?" her mother asked, an eyebrow raised.

"He’ll need something to wear to bed, anyway, mom."

She shook her head and then called up the stairs, "Better get him a pair of panties, too. A new pair if you have any."

About ten minutes later, with my jeans on the back of a chair down stairs and a light weight, baby blue robe tied loosely around my waist, Brooke helped me up the stairs to Mrs Kerr’s oversized bath tub. Brooke helped me down into the tub. I was self conscious about her seeing me completely naked, but I needed help and I’d rather it be Brooke helping me than Mrs Kerr.

The hot water and the bath salts really did feel good on my wounded skin and I soaked for a good long time with Brooke adding new hot water from time to time.

Eventually, I sat up and she washed and conditioned my hair for me. Then she helped me up and I got out, but there was a problem. Mrs Kerr’s bathroom had a lot of mirrors and for the first time, I saw how bruised my body was. It was pretty bad. I mean, I didn’t look like I’d been in a car accident or anything, but I definitely looked like I’d gone a few rounds with a real tough fighter – which – I guess I had.

Brooke patted me dry as gently as she could, then helped me into the plain white panties and loose, white nightie. There was nothing sexy or playful about wearing a nightie this time, though. It was just a necessity.

I pulled the lightweight robe on and sat while Brooke gently brushed my hair and put it up in a bun.

"Do you feel better?" she asked me.

"A little," I said, "but l’m really tired."

She nodded. "You can sleep in my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch."

I would have argued, but the thought of going back downstairs seemed exhausting. "Thank you," I said, feeling very emotional.

Brooke led me into her room and pulled down her covers, laying me gently on my back, then covering me with a sheet. She kissed my cheek before leaving me to think about what had happened to me.

I wondered: Why had this happened? And of course I knew why. I had been expecting it to happen for weeks. Maybe not to this extreme, but I knew that it was going to happen.

So, then I starting thinking about why I had kept the dresses in the first place. And you know why I think I had? Because deep down, I really wanted my father to find them because I wanted him to know that what I really wanted... more than anything... was to express myself the way that Brooke had taught me to. By being pretty and feminine. But there was no way that I could ever tell him how I felt other than to let him find the dresses.

Well, he’d found the dresses and he knew what I was, so now what?

That’s what I needed to figure out.

At that point, between the drugs, the exertion of getting up the stairs and the drama of the day, I drifted off into a slightly drugged sleep that lasted until Brooke woke me the next morning.

"Hi,"she whispered in all her angelic beauty. "It’s nearly ten and mom thought you should have something to eat and get some medicine into you. I brought you some eggs and toast and orange juice. If you want something else, I can get that, too."

As I regained consciousness, I realized I was hungry and I sat up straighter so that Brooke could place a very fancy breakfast-in-bed tray over my hips. I ate a light breakfast and sipped the orange juice and began to feel a little better.

Brooke touched my arm. "The bruises are already fading."

"Are they?"

She touched my face. "Some of them are. I could cover some of them with some makeup if you want."

I shrugged. "We’ll see."

I heard a car door shut outside and knew it had to be from my driveway. "Is that my father?"

Brooke looked out the window. "Yeah."

"Why is he home on a weekday, I wonder?" I said.

Brooke shrugged. "Mom says he took some time off. She says he’s seeing someone... an anger management guy, or something."

"My dad!?" I half laughed. "A psychologist?"

"I guess." She looked kind of serious. "Mom says he’s really upset. She says he can’t believe he did what he did. I mean... I can’t believe he did what he did, either, so... at least we’re all on the same page," she smirked and shrugged a little. "Do you feel any better?"

I nodded. "I do, think."

"Good," she smiled. "After breakfast, why don’t you get dressed, I’ll brush your hair out and maybe you’ll feel better if you move around a bit. What do you think."

I nodded. "Ok."

I got up and Brooke brushed my hair. She even used her curling iron to create vertical curls that she then loosened and sprayed, so that my hair looked full and rich.

"Now, let me cover some of those bruises," she said, and she went to work on my face with some makeup. When she finished, I definitely looked better and that made me feel better.

Right about that time, there was a timid knock on the door. We turned and saw Elena coming in. "Hey," she smiled. "How are you feeling?"

I took a deep breath and exhaled it. "Better... I think."

"Here," she said, handing me a new pair of panties.

I thanked her. We were both just a little embarrassed by the exchange of the intimate piece of clothing in the stark light of day.

"Hang on," she said and ran out of the room, then came back a moment later carrying something very bright and very yellow. "Look... I know that all this girly stuff that we’ve introduced you to is what got you beaten up in the first place, and I’m the one who told you to accept the dress from Brooke in the first place, but... well, with your bruises and all, I thought that something loose would be comfortable and this color always makes me happy, so..." she held out the yellow dress in her hand, "... I thought this might make you feel better."

It was just a simple, very bright yellow dress. Very short sleeves, a crew neck and a mostly formless, yet pretty dress. It was a simple and thoughtful offer.

"Thank you, El. It’s very pretty." I took it and gave Elena a gentle hug, which was the best I could manage.

She smiled. "I’ll let you change and see you down stairs."

I’ve heard girls and women say that a nice dress makes them feel better before, but I always thought they were just being... I don’t know... hyperbolic, I guess... But you know what? I got cleaned up, got my hair done, had Brooke fuss over me a little and put on a pretty dress and a pair of nice sandals, also provided by Elena, and I really did feel a lot better.

An awful lot better.

"Well, look at you," Mrs Kerr said, looking at me with a curious smile. "You look very nice, Brook."

"Thank you, Mrs Kerr," I responded. "I feel a little better. Still sore, but better."

She nodded and looked at me very closely. "Umm... can we have a chat, honey. Just you and me? Out on the porch, maybe?"

"Mom," Brooke stepped in like a defensive mother, "Brook is just starting to feel better..."

Mrs Kerr held up both hands in a defensive manner. "I just want to have a conversation, Brooke. That’s all."

"It’s ok," I assured her. "I’ll be happy to talk to you, Mrs Kerr."

We went out onto their back porch, which was a lot different than our’s. Our’s was just a foot or two off the ground and had a few mismatched pieces of furniture on it. Theirs was high and roofed and partially screened in, with designer patio furniture and an exterior dinette set that probably cost three times what our dining room table cost.

I don’t want you to think that I’m overly impressed by money, but it’s just nice to see good looking things. I don’t NEED things like that. I just like looking at them.

We sat in two very comfortable lounge chairs and I waited for Mrs Kerr to start. Finally, she did.

"Brook... honey... I know that you’ve been through a lot... an awful lot... but... I’m looking at you right now and... I know that you don’t have access to your own clothes, honey, but Elena has plenty of clothes less feminine than these. And the way that Brooke has done your hair... and you’re wearing makeup..."

She just let that sit there.

I sat up a little straighter and looked out at the yard. "Mrs Kerr... am I making you uncomfortable? Do you want me to get changed?"

"I honestly don’t know what I want, Brook," she shook her head. "I do know that I am trying to help, honey, and I just don’t want to make matters worse between you and your dad."

I shrugged. "It’s your house, ma’m, and I’ll do whatever you want. If you want me to take all of this off, I will. I don’t want to upset you."

"You’re not upsetting me, honey," she said, "but you are confusing me."

"Why?"

She sighed and thought for a moment. "According to your father, until last month, you never once dressed like a girl until my Brooke got her hands on you. Is that true?"

I nodded.

"So... this is all her doing?"

I shook my head. "No, ma’m. This is all my doing. I never once dressed like a girl before I met Brooke because I never had anyone to help me, but I thought about it a lot. Yes, Brooke bought me those dresses, but I never wore them because I was too scared to because I knew my dad would beat me half to death if I did. Now that he has... what difference does it make? He’s done his worst. Now... I’m going to give living the way I’ve always wanted to live a try."

She let out a long breath. "Wow. That’s a lot to bite off, Brook." She shook her head for a moment. "You know that your father feels very bad about what he did, right?"

I nodded. "That’s what Brooke told me."

"I like your father, Brook. I think he’s a good man... for the most part. This... thing he did to you... it really surprised me. Not that I’ve known him long, but... I thought I knew him a bit better than that. Tell me... Do you think you can ever forgive him?"

I shrugged. "I think I already have, but... in order to move forward... there’s a lot to do and I need him to get used to me... THIS... me. I like THIS me. I like THIS me a lot better than the other me and I’m going to stick with THIS me."

Mrs Kerr leaned forward and put her cool hand on my bare knee. "Ok, honey. Thank you for being honest with me. If that’s how you feel, then I’m here to support you. You can go hang out with the girls if you want."

"Ok," I said. I stood up and started to go, but I stopped at the door. "Mrs Kerr?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Do you think my dad can accept me like this?"

She tried to smile. "Brook... your dad is not used to boys like you. He is from a different time and... this is a small town, Brook. He’s never really seen another boy like you before. He hangs around with tough guys and he’s not used to gentle boys..."

"Yes, he is," I interrupted. "Mrs Kerr, since my mom left, it’s just been me and dad and I’ve always been this close to being like I am today." I held a finger and thumb up to indicate a minuscule distance. "Dad used to hang out with tough guys in bars and places like that, but not any more. He just hangs out with me... and now you. He’s always known that I was a ‘gentle boy.’ I really need him to be ok with me."

She finally smiled, understanding what I was getting at. "Are you saying that you want me to talk to him for you?"

"Only if you feel comfortable doing it," I shrugged.

She thought for a moment and then nodded. "Alright, honey. I’ll do what I can. Ok?"

"Thank you, Mrs Kerr."

I resolved that I was going to try to get my butt in gear and feel better by making dinner, which is what I loved to do, anyway. So, I went to the refrigerator and looked at what I had to work with.

It wasn’t much.

Mostly prepackaged salads that were approaching or just past their expiration dates. None of them were interesting, either. Ice berg lettuce, or kale – I am not a big fan of kale, by the way. I find it bitter and earthy, by which I mean, it kind of tastes of dirt to me. Anyway, I put together a shopping list for what I’d need in order to make a nice dinner; nothing too fancy, just nice. I also planned a nice salad that might last a few days. Spinach with sliced radishes, shredded carrots, a few cherry tomatoes and a few other tasty things that the Kerr’s might enjoy more than the bland bags of salad in their fridge.

I gave the list to Brooke, who seemed a little surprised by its size, and she said, "Ok, let’s go get it," but I refused.

"I can’t go out like this."

"Why not?" She kind of laughed. "You look nice in that dress."

"Brooke," I couldn’t believe I had to explain this, "I want to make the change in my life and live this way, but I need to do it a little at a time. My first time out in a dress isn’t going to be to the market where I go shopping every week. Besides that, though... you did a really good job of covering up most of my bruises, but... look at me. My eye is still swollen and I can’t open my jaw all the way, yet... I don’t want people to see me this way. I don’t mean as my feminine self – I mean... like this... broken."

She kissed my cheek. "Ok. I get it." Then she called to her sisters, "I’m going to the grocery store. Who wants to come with?"

"Can we stop at Dunkin’s for iced coffee?" Melissa called back.

"Sure," Brooke laughed.

"I’ll go!" Mellissa said happily.

"I’ll hang with Brook," Elena said.

"Ok," Brooke said, grabbing her pocketbook. She gave me a quick kiss and headed out the door.

"So," Elena put her arm around me and gave me a gentle hug, "you look pretty. How do you feel?"

"I’m ok, I guess. A little achy, but ok."

She nodded. "Brooke says you’ve decided to live your life as a woman."

I laughed. "Not quite. Let’s say... as a gender-fluid person."

She smiled. "But leaning more towards the feminine than the masculine, right?"

That made me laugh again. "Definitely." Then I shook my head and looked at her more closely. "Seriously? You’re only twelve?"

"Are you tired or are you up for a little exploring?" Elena said to me, changing gears and catching me a little off guard.

I thought about that for a moment. "I’m not all that tired. What did you have in mind."

She ran out to the porch and asked her mother something, then came running back to me.

"Any trying on happens in private!" Mrs Kerr called in from the porch.

"I know, mom!" Elena called back then she grabbed my hand and pulled me to follow her.

"Come on," she said and led me, somewhat slowly, back up the stairs, this time to her room where she opened her rather large closet and said, "Ta da!"

"Ta da?" I asked.

"Yeah. Ta da! These are my clothes."

"I see that."

"That makes them your clothes, too. At least for the time being," she said somewhat proudly. "So, pick out what you like so I’m not just pulling out random clothes everyday."

I laughed a bit nervously. "Honestly, Elena, that’s very nice of you, but I’m not sure..."

"Oh, come on," she said, reaching in and grabbing a pretty, flowered dress. "It’s pretty, right? It’ll look nice on you, too. I’m sure of it. Try it on."

"Well... maybe in a bit..." I said, stalling.

"Good idea!" Elena said, thinking I had meant something else. "We’ll make a pile and you can try a bunch on all at once. I’ll have to step out while you try them on, anyway. That’s what my mom was talking about."

I shrugged. "Ok." See, putting on dresses, or more precisely, fantasizing about putting on dresses, was really only exciting when I imagined doing it with Brooke. The idea of looking at dresses seemed silly with Elena.

Having said that...

The more clothing I looked at, the more excited I got about wearing it. Not in any way sexually excited, just... excited. Excited about looking pretty. Excited about how the clothes would feel. Excited about looking like a normal person when wearing these dresses, these skirts, these blouses, these rompers.

Speaking of rompers – I looked at a romper that Elena pulled out and I was fascinated by it. It was pretty simple, just a white romper with cap sleeves, tap style shorts and a delicate floral print all over it. When I finally got to try it on, the first thing that occurred to me was, "How do you go to the bathroom in this?"

"You take it off," Elena smiled.

"What if you’re in a public bathroom?" I asked.

"You take it off," she laughed. "There’s no other way to go to the bathroom when you’re wearing a romper except to take it off."

"So... you’re sitting in a public restroom mostly naked while you’re peeing?"

"Yeah," she laughed.

"Don’t you feel... like... vulnerable?"

Still smiling, she shrugged. "I suppose so, but if you want to wear a cute romper and you have to go... there’s not much else to do. Right?"

"I guess."

"Try it on," she insisted. She left the s room and I took off the yellow dress and pulled the romper on, calling Elena back in when I was dressed again.

"Do you like it?" she asked as we both looked in the mirror.

"I do. It’s really comfortable."

"Then wear it when you want to," she smiled.

"Ooh, that’s very cute on you," Mrs Kerr said entering the room. She turned me in a very motherly way and looked at me from all angles, fingering the material here and there. "You’ve got a decent bottom on you for a boy, too. A shoe with a little heel would help emphasize that, too."

"Yeah, well, too bad I don’t have any heels to loan you," Elena said with some sarcasm. "Unfortunately, my mother won’t allow me to wear heels except for special occasions."

"You’re twelve," Mrs Kerr shook her head. "Brook is eighteen."

"I’ll be thirteen in a few days. Can I wear heels then?"

Mrs Kerr shifted her attention to Elena and heaved and exasperated sigh. "Ok. Two inch heels. Nothing too challenging. Either chunky or respectable pumps and only when appropriate."

"Yes!" Elena shouted, with an accompanying fist pump.

"You need to get your own bra and panties," Mrs Kerr said, returning her attention to me. "I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you and El to be sharing."

I nodded, but there was a problem. "I’m afraid I don’t have any money, Mrs Kerr. My dad sometimes gave me a monthly allowance for taking care of the house and cooking when he could afford it and I haven’t gotten that in a while, so..."

"That’s ok, dear," she said, stopping my flow of apologies. "I’ll take care of it for now." She moved my hair away from my cheek and looked at my ears. "You should get your ears pierced if this is going to be a full time thing, too. Maybe later in the week, when you feel more comfortable going out, we’ll deal with that, too. How does that sound?"

I think my smile may have given away my excitement. "That sounds good."

"Ok,"she smiled back. "You two pick out some nice things to share and I’ll see you downstairs later."

Later, after trying on about fifteen outfits, when Brooke came home with the groceries, I made the Kerr’s a nice dinner, which prompted a lot of compliments for my cooking, but also a lot of sarcastic remarks about the stove in their kitchen. "Hey, I didn’t know that that thing did anything but heat up old pizza!." "Hey, mom! Did you know that people can cook things in their own houses?" Things like that.

I slept in the same nightie I’d slept in the night before, but I insisted on sleeping on the couch, which turned out to have a comfortable pull-out bed.

And that’s how the next few days went. I was essentially the fourth Kerr sister. Brooke and I didn’t really have a lot of time alone and what time we did have together was spent with her grooming me, both grooming my hair and makeup and grooming me by correcting my behavior, to make me more comfortable with my new persona – and I loved my new persona. I felt so much more confident and comfortable as THIS Brook than I’d ever felt as the old Brook.

After a week, my ears were pierced, my legs were waxed, my eyebrows were trimmed and I was comfortable as my new self, most of my bruises were gone and I felt like I needed to do something about my relationship with my father. So, I picked up my phone and I sent a text. ‘HI, DAD. I’D REALLY LIKE TO TALK TO YOU IF YOU’RE WILLING.’

He responded after about ten minutes. ‘HI, CHEF. BOY, THERE IS A LOT I’D LIKE TO SAY TO YOU BUT THE COURTS SAY I CAN’T. IN FACT I COULD GET INTO BIG TROUBLE FOR JUST THIS TEXT CONVERSATION.’

‘SORRY,’ I wrote, but couldn’t stop. I really missed him. ‘IF I ASK MY SOCIAL WORKER TO WORK IT OUT FOR US, WOULD YOU BE WILLING TO MEET? OR MAYBE TALK ON ZOOM ON THE COMPUTER OF SOMETHING?’

‘CHEF, I’D DO ANYTHING TO MAKE THIS RIGHT. HONESTLY. BUDDY, I’M NOT DRINKING. I’M GOING TO AA MEETINGS EVERY NIGHT. I KNOW I HURT YOU REALLY BAD AND I WILL GO TO JAIL FOR THAT IF THAT’S WHAT HAS TO HAPPEN, BUT I NEED YOU TO KNOW THAT I KNOW WHAT AN ASSHOLE I WAS THAT NIGHT. I KNOW I NEVER SAY IT, BUT I LOVE YOU, PAL, AND THIS HAS BEEN THE WORST WEEK OF MY LIFE. YOU ARE MY WORLD, CHEF, AND I AM SCARED TO DEATH THAT I’VE LOST YOU BECAUSE I WAS A DRUNK IDIOT.’

I blinked back a few tears and sniffled a bit. ‘I LOVE YOU, TOO, DAD. I’LL ASK MY SOCIAL WORKER.’

It was a challenge. The social worker, Ms Martin, who was very nice, but overworked and overstressed was dubious. She had some obvious concerns and wasn’t at all sure that she had the time to do what I was asking. Finally, I convinced her to talk to the judge, who also had some reservations. Then, miraculously, on Friday of that week, my dad, the judge, Ms Martin, a police officer and Mrs Kerr were sitting quite a distance away from each other in the Kerr’s massive living room.

"Alright, Mr Chapin, I want to state, on behalf of all of us," the judge said as I listened from the kitchen, "that we are very happy that your son requested this meeting. However I must restate that there will be no arguments between you two. If there is, I will terminate this meeting. Further more, there will be no touching unless I approve it and no foul language. Is all of this understood?"

I heard my dad say, "Yes, sir, Your Honor. I understand."

"Alright, then." He cleared his throat. "Brook Chapin. You may come in."

I entered the room wearing the romper I’d described earlier with my hair brushed back, but curled nicely and then brushed through again so it was nice and full and wavy. I thought I looked really nice, and since my bruises had, for the most part, healed, and the makeup I wore covered what little discoloring I still had, I felt confident for the first time since the beating.

The thing is, though, it was the first time my dad had ever seen me this way. Mrs Kerr had prepared him for how I would look, but I’m sure it still must have been shocking for him.

Dad stood when I entered and I could tell by the look on his face that he was glad to see me, but I could also see that he was processing how I looked as well.

"Hi, Chef," he said, quietly.

"Hi, dad," I said, taking a seat beside Mrs Kerr. I kept my knees together as I sat and, once seated, I crossed my legs at my knees, a habit I had developed since my decision to live my life en femme, and nodded to everyone.

"Wow..." dad said, still standing. "Chef... you look... you look amazing."

I smiled a bit, but it was difficult not to remember what I’d gone through a week earlier. "Thanks, dad. You look good, too."

He shook his head and looked at me. "I... I honestly can’t believe that’s you, Chef. You look entirely different."

"Ok," the judge said, "let’s move this along." He motioned for my dad to sit, then he looked at me. "Tell me, Brook. Do I refer to you with male or female pronouns."

I shrugged. "Male, I guess."

He nodded, but he seemed a little surprised. "Alright. So, tell me, Brook... Why are we here?"

"I wanted to talk to my dad," I said.

The judge nodded. "Alright, Brook. Go ahead. The floor is yours."

It was really odd, talking to my dad about something so personal in front of all these strangers, but that was my only option. I took a deep breath and said, "Dad... I just wanted to say that... I’m sorry that I lied to you and hid all those clothes. I knew you didn’t want me to have that stuff and I shouldn’t have done that. I should have just spoken to you about how I felt. That I needed to... well... to look like this to be happy. To be me. I’m sorry."

My dad looked at me and chewed his lower lip. "I’m sorry, Chef, but I can’t accept that apology," he finally said, surprising me. It seemed as it the meeting was coming to an end if this was the stance he was going to take, but then he continued. "I can’t accept it, because you have nothing to apologize for. Yeah, I was surprised to find the dresses in your closet, but... Chef... I was drunk. That’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth and you know what I can be like when I’m drunk – well, when I WAS drunk, I hope, because I don’t plan to ever be drunk again."

I just looked at my dad in shock. He was admitting he was wrong. I’m not sure that had ever happened before.

He continued. "Look, Chef... you’re my son... or my daughter if that’s what you choose. I’ve known you your entire life. When you were a baby, I may have had a few fantasies that you’d follow in my footsteps and earn your football letter... or maybe be on the track team... be a ladies man like I was... that kind of thing... you know what I mean... but from the time you were maybe three or four... I knew you weren’t that kind of boy."

I nodded, not at all hurt by his words.

"I’d see you with other little boys at cookouts and parties and while they were running wild and pretending to shoot things with their fingers, you weren’t. You weren’t even talking to the little girls, Chef. You were talking to the teenaged girls who would play with your hair and hold you on their laps. You would talk to the women with babies and ask about how to care for them. Chef... you were always learning how to be a woman... or at least a very caring man. I saw it, but I just ignored it. Or... maybe I denied it... regardless... I knew it, but I never allowed you to be who you were born to be."

I just stared at him in silence. I didn’t know what to say.

"And I’m sorry," he said. "I’m sorry for ignoring what I knew. I’m sorry for the pressure I put on you to not be yourself. I’m sorry that I never talked to you about it all and..." he looked at me and I saw tears in his eyes. "... I hope... that someday... you might be able to forgive me for what I did last week, but... it really doesn’t matter... because... if I live to be a hundred... I will never... never... never forgive myself for that, Chef."

I took Mrs Kerr’s hand. I’m sure she could feel me shaking. My whole body was about to fail me and just let me burst into tears, and I didn’t want to do that.

"Chef..." dad continued, "... my marriage was a huge mistake. Your mom and I were way too young to have a kid and I had no prospects at all... we were doomed from the start... but the best part of my life came out of my marriage. That’s you, Chef. You are the most important thing in my world and I cannot believe that I hurt you like I did. I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart, Chef, I am so, so, sorry and it’ll never happen again. Someday..." he rubbed his eyes and I saw some tears fall, "... I hope that we might be able to sit on our porch and talk, again... Just you and me, and..."

I stood and interrupted. "I’m sorry," I said, tears streaming down my face, "dad... I love you so much, but... I need a break..." I ran into the kitchen as fast as I could.

As I turned the corner into the other room, I heard Mrs Kerr say, "Excuse us for a moment. We’ll be back in a minute."

When she reached the kitchen, I was pacing back and forth, my hands shaking uncontrollably. She wrapped her arms around me and held tightly. "Calm down, honey. What’s the matter?"

"I don’t know, I don’t know..." I said, barely able to speak through my crying.

"Your dad seems to be so accepting of you," she said. "I thought you’d be happy."

"I am," I gasped, "but... I think I’m just... Mrs Kerr... he’s NEVER told me he loved me before and he just said it like three times. And he’s never apologized before and... oh, my God... it’s just a lot for me to take in."

She held me tighter and swayed me from side to side a bit. "Shh, Shh," she whispered. "I understand. Sometimes the most unexpected things can make us emotional."

I took a deep breath and got control of myself. "Mrs Kerr..."

"Yes, honey?"

"You don’t think..." I needed to get my head around what I wanted to ask. "... you don’t think that my dad... is saying all of those things... just to look good for those people... do you?"

She took a deep breath and thought for a moment. "Listen, Brook, honey," she said, holding me away from her a bit and looking me in the eye. "I’ve talked to your dad a few times this week and I have to tell you, everything he said in there is similar to what he’s been saying to me since the first time we talked."

I nodded. "He said he might go to jail."

"That’s right," Mrs Kerr said, a little surprised that this concept hadn’t occurred to me. "He assaulted you, honey. He could go to jail for that."

Suddenly, I was petrified. That was about the worst thing that I could think of. I mean, I was enjoying staying with the Kerr’s, but it wasn’t my home. How could I possibly live indefinitely like I was?

"Excuse me," Ms Martin, my social worker said, entering the kitchen, her blue hair and matching blue glass frames matching her blue tunic, "but his honor needs to leave soon and he would like to have Brook finish up whatever it is that Brook wants to say."

"Of course," Mrs Kerr said. "We’re coming."

She looked at me and gave me a stressed smile. "Can you do this?"

I nodded. "Yes."

We followed the social worker back into the living room and I sat back down on the couch.

"I’m sorry to rush you," his honor said, "but I do have to get going. I understand that you wanted to say a few things to your father, Brook. We’ve heard your apology, which I do feel is completely unnecessary, but is there anything else you wanted to say while we are all together?"

"Yes, Your Honor," I said. I looked at my dad and I had a really hard time speaking. "Dad... I... I just wanted you to know that I really love you and that I’m sorry that things got to this point. I... I just want... to go home and for things to go back to normal."

My dad rubbed his eyes. "Me too, Chef. Me too."

"To be clear," my social worker said, "back to normal would be you living in your father’s house... making his meals... doing his laundry... cooking his meals... etc.? Essentially being his housekeeper."

I nodded. "Yes, ma’m, but that’s not really a bad thing, is it? I mean... since my mom left us, my dad and I have had to share the responsibilities. He works hard outside of the house and I maintain everything in the house. That’s not a punishment. I love to cook – I do it here, too. It makes me happy. Laundry and cleaning has to be dealt with and I’m there, so... I do it. That’s all."

"And, if I may..." the Judge said. "When you say ‘back to normal,’ you are not talking about returning to a male persona, are you, Brook?"

"No, sir, I’m not," I said. "I intend to continue to dress in this manner."

He nodded, then looked at my dad. "Mr Chapin?"

"Yes, Your Honor?"

"Is that something you can live with?"

My father looked at me and smiled. "Your Honor... if I could hug my son and tell him how proud I am of him at this moment, I would. I don’t care how he dresses, but... look at how beautiful he looks, Your Honor. Of course I’d be fine with that."

The judge stood and took my hand, offering me assistance to stand, then he did the same for my dad. "I shouldn’t be doing this, Mr Chapin, but I think that right now, Brook really could use that hug."

"Thank you, sir," my dad said with great respect as he took me in his arms and I felt him shaking with emotion, nearly as hard as I was. He squeezed me really tightly and he said, very quietly, "I love you, Chef. I always have and I always will. I am so very proud of who you are and I am so ashamed of who I am and what I have done. Please forgive me."

"I love you, too, dad," I said back, but that’s about all I could muster.

After a few moments, the judge touched our shoulders. "Ok. I’m sorry, but we need to call an end to this meeting."

Dad let me go and made eye contact with me for just a moment, but I think he was embarrassed by his teary eyes and he looked away.

"I need to remind you, Mr Chapin, that the terms of your restrictions still are in affect. You will have no unsupervised contact with your son and that includes electronic communications," he looked at me, "is that understood?"

"Yes, Your Honor," both my father and I said.

‘Very good," the judge nodded. "I’ll see you both in court soon, then." He said with a nod. Then he held his hand in an ushering manner and my father was escorted out of the Kerr’s house by the police officer.

"Are you ok?" Mrs Kerr asked me.

"I guess," I said. "I just hope he doesn’t really go to jail."

She rubbed my back. "I hope so, too."
 
 
To Be Continued...

A Boy Called Brook: Summer 5 by Clara Copyright© 2022, 2024 Clara Schumann   Brook moves forward to heal his family and establish his new life.

Thank you to everyone who has commented so far! Thank you so much Sephrena for your assistance with the html and to all of my reviewers for their kind reviews and support of my work.
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Summer 5
 

They wouldn't let me cook them dinner that night. In fact, Brooke insisted on taking me out to dinner - just the two of us. She and Elena picked out a nice dress for me to wear. It was a soft yellow cotton, but kind of looked like it was crocheted, if you know what I mean. Like, there were a lot of lacy patterns that let skin show through. It had flesh colored material strategically placed beneath the outer material to hide my bra and panties, though. It was a really pretty dress and I felt really pretty wearing it. Brooke did my makeup a little more nicely than usual and I really felt special. She also bought me a pretty pair of three inched heeled, white, strappy shoes that made me feel even more pretty - and taller, which I liked a lot, too.

She took me to a place a few towns away that had a pretty good reputation. It wasn't a crazy-expensive place, but I'd heard that their food was excellent, and they didn't disappoint. I had the braised short ribs served over gnocchis tossed in walnuts, shiitake mushrooms and arugula with a Gorgonzola cream sauce that was breath taking.

Brooke had a bacon cheese burger with fries that she loved.

To each their own.

I liked the fact that the waiter kept referring to us as 'ladies' and that one person at a nearby table who came over to talk to me about my meal even referred to me as Brooke's little sister. Honest to God, I'd never once in my life ever gone out into a public situation and felt attractive before, let alone 'pretty.' It was a whole new experience for me and I really, really enjoyed it.

When we left the restaurant, the maitre'd was very kind to us and went to great lengths to invite us back again. Both of us giggled as we got outside because everyone had treated us like princesses the whole time we were in there. I was wonderful!

Instead of going straight home, Brooke took 'the scenic' route home which invoked a road that ran around a big, man made reservoir where a town center had once stood, but now only an old, beautiful stone church remained. There was still plenty of daylight, so we took off our heels and walked around the area near The Old Stone Church enjoying the cooler evening air, the smells of the pine trees, the feel of the grass on our bare feet and the intimacy of just holding each other's hands and being young and in love. It was a wonderful, beautiful evening.

We got back into Brooke's Jeep and she drove up a side road that ran along a river that fed into the reservoir and she pulled off into a side area that was well worn down by many tire tracks and was obviously a place where people pulled in for some 'alone time' with some frequency.

"Let's get in the backseat," Brooke said when the car was stopped. We both climbed out and climbed back into the vehicle in the seats behind where we'd been seated, then we sat close together with me in Brooke's arms.

"You've had a hard day, huh?" she whispered.

"I've had better," I shrugged, "but my dad said some nice things and I had a delicious meal with the most beautiful woman I've ever known, so it got better."

That made Brooke smile. She ran a finger along my bare arm and kissed my neck incredibly softly. Soon, her finger was traveling along the skirt of my dress, and then down my bare leg - and then back up my bare leg again and under my dress. Then, she was toying with the soft elastic leg openings of my panties.

"Do you like wearing dresses?" she asked playfully.

"I do," I smiled at her as she got playful under my skirt. "Do you like me in dresses?"

"I do," she smiled. "I like your hair done nicely. I like you with makeup done nicely. I like you smelling all flowery and and nice, too." She kissed me. "I love the taste of your lipstick when I kiss you. But more than anything... I love you in pretty dresses."

Her hand moved to the area between my legs where my penis was tucked.

"I bet more boys would wear dresses if they considered how nice it feels when girls reach under their skirts and do this," Brooke smiled and teased.

I shivered and grinned, enjoying each sensation. "Maybe we should just keep that to ourselves. Most boys wouldn't consider wearing a dress."

"Really? What if they knew how nice they feel," she smiled that Cheshire Cat grin of hers. "And how nice these soft panties feel when someone touches their wee wee like this."

I laughed. "Their wee wee?"

She touched my shaft more sensuously. "That's right. But you know what? If girls thought about it and they realized that they had such easy access to boys' wee-wee's, I bet they'd be buying their boyfriends cute little frocks all the time."

I sighed and tried not to spoil the mood. "Brooke... there's probably aren't any other girls who'd be interested in a boy like me. They want men who have hard muscles and hairy bodies. Not little wimps like me."

"Oh, don't say that," she cooed, licking my ear. "You're not a wimp. You're my beautiful little boyfriend and that's what I want you to be."

"Good," I smiled, "because that's what I want to be and that's all I'll ever be."

Brooke took me fully in her hand, caressing my entire organ through the soft material of my panties and I cuddled closer, enjoying the intimacy of her breasts next to my face.

Brooke being Brooke, she took the time to stop, raised the skirt of my dress and lowered my panties, exposing my tool. Then she took some tissues from a box between the front seats and put them on my belly before returning her attention to my pleasure zone.

She began stroking again and smiling down at me. "Does that feel nice?"

I just smiled up at her. Of course it felt nice. She knew that.

"So, you're always going to be a girl now?" She giggled.

"No. I'm always going to be a pretty boy in a dress. I want to be pretty and feminine, but I always want to be a boy."

She kissed my cheek. "I'm so glad. So soft and pretty." She increased her speed. "But maybe getting a little harder down here," she teased as she stroked me. "Uh oh... uh oh... uh oh... here it comes," she said, as if I was a child with a toy, but it was an exciting tease under the circumstances and it was enough to bring me to the edge.

"I'm going to come," I gasped.

"That's ok, baby. You go right ahead," she giggled.

So I did. I gushed out onto her hand and onto the tissues she'd prepared to catch my mess. It was so powerful that I could barely breath.

"Wow," she laughed. "You had some pent up energy there, didn't you?"

I got control of my breathing. "More like pent up frustration," I laughed.

Brooke cleaned me up using the tissues, then grabbed a pack of hand wipes and wiped me down with those as well. "There." She said as she pulled my panties back into place. "All cleaned up." She gave me a soft, loving kiss. "Feel better?"

"I do," I smiled back up at her.

"That's good," she kissed me. "Come on. We should get going." She kissed me again. "Mom will get mad if we're out too late."

We climbed out of the back seats and back into the front, then headed back to the Kerr's house.

"Tomorrow," Brooke said, "I think we should go get our nails done."

I looked at my short, unpolished nails. "That might be fun, but I can't get long nails. They would interfere with my cooking."

"Ok. Maybe you can just have them shaped and colored. And maybe have your toes done. How does that sound?"

I smiled at the idea of trying something new. "That sounds fun."

When we got back to Brooke's house, Mrs Kerr was watching TV in the living room. "Did you two have a nice time?" she asked.

"We did," Brooke answered. "I had a great burger and Brook ate something complicated that looked disgusting, but I admit, tasted pretty amazing."

She smiled and shook her head. "You went to a world class restaurant and had a hamburger? How classy." She looked at me. "Honestly, she gets that from her father, I swear."

I just smiled.

"Listen," she went on, "the girls and I went out and did a little shopping this evening and I got you a few things of your own. Nothing fancy, mind you, but there are some things you needed to have." She reached down and picked up a bag from Target. "Here. There are a couple of packages of panties in there, three padded bras and two nighties. Like I said, nothing fancy, but they'll get through the next week or so. Then, if we have to, we'll figure out what happens from there."

"Ok," I said, as I took the bag. "Thank you, Mrs Kerr. This is... very generous of you."

"Don't be silly," she said, as she patted my hair. "I'm happy to help... any way that I can."

She seemed to almost muse over me for a good long moment before she forced a smile and said, "Well... you two should get ready for bed. I'll see you in the morning." She surprised me by giving me a kiss on the cheek, then she did the same to Brooke. "Love you both," she said, but I think she said it out of maternal habit.

"Love you, too, mom," Brooke said, but I just mumbled something unintelligible, a bit surprised by the situation.

Brooke looked at me and said, "Why don't you get changed down here? I'll get changed upstairs, then meet you there and I'll help you take off your makeup and tie up your hair for bed." Then she went upstairs and I picked up the bag and headed into the downstairs half-bath to change.

I took off the heels and sighed at the feeling of relief in my arches and calves. They hadn't actually bothered me while I was wearing them, but they sure felt good to take off. Then I took off the dress and the bra before I opened the bag and pulled out the new nightie that Mrs Kerr had bought me.

I had to blink a few times when I looked at it, but I pulled it on, anyway. It was an oddly childish garment. Pure white except for a tiny pink bow just below where my bust would be, if I had one. A scoop neck, a little elastic high-waist-line on the same line as the bow and an A line skirt falling from there to just above my knees. Very thin and very light - but the most infantile attribute on the nightie was the rather oversized, puffy balls that formed the sleeves at the tops of my arms. I looked like an illustration of a child from a Victorian children's book.

I took my shoes and my dress and headed up to Brooke's room. Just before I made it to her door, though, Melissa stepped out of her own bedroom, into the hallway, where she stopped and stared at me. Eventually, she shook her head and smirked a bit. "I told my mom that that thing looked like a little girl's nightgown when it was on the hanger, but... wow... now that I see you wearing it..." she broke out into giggles... "wow..."

I nodded. "I know, but I'm sure she meant well, and beggars can't be choosers, right?"

She shook her head a little more. "Wow." She repeated several more times. "Has Brooke seen you in that?"

I shook my head.

Melissa took my hand. "I have to see her face!"

She pulled me the last ten steps or so and knocked on Brooke's door. "Come on in," Brooke called from inside.

"Hey, Brooke," Melissa said, dragging me in behind her, "I found this child wandering around looking for her babysitter. Can you help?"

Brooke looked up from a bureau drawer and saw me and a huge smile broke out on her face, which she tried to hide with a hand. "Oh, my goodness," she laughed. "I'm so sorry, Brook. Mom does this to Elena all the time, too."

"Does what?" Elena asked, entering the room, too, but then she saw me and her question was answered. She didn't laugh, though. "Oh, for crying out loud," she said, shaking her head. "Come on. I'll give you something else to wear."

"No, that's ok," I said, a bit surprised to hear Brooke also telling Elena not to get anything else. "Your mom was nice enough to get this for me. I'll wear this. It's fine."

"Fine?" Brooke giggled. "It's adorable."

I looked at her and rolled my eyes.

"Sorry," she giggled, "but it is... and you are. Come on... let me take off your makeup and get you ready for bed."

I sat at Brooke's vanity and she went about her business of getting me ready for bed, while her two younger sisters sat on the bed and asked some questions about our evening out. I was a little surprised by how much Brooke shared with them. She certainly didn't share the fact that she had given me a hand-job in the back of her Jeep, but she did tell them that we took a long walk around the reservoir and sat by the river and looked at the water in the twilight.

When she got to putting my hair up, she began brushing and arranging my hair in such a way that I realized that she was going to braid my hair, which was fine, if a bit odd, since lately I'd worn a bun to bed every night. I didn't mind, though. I enjoyed the way the it felt being braided and I enjoyed the attention.

She took longer than usual, though, which was fine with me, but as she finished up, I could tell by the looks on the faces of her sisters that something was up. I glanced behind me and I saw that Brooke was holding up a large hand mirror so that the girls could see the back of my head.

"What did you do?" I asked.

Brooke smiled and had me look into her vanity mirror, then held up the mirror behind my head to show me the large, pink bow she'd tied into the crown of my head, then lowered the mirror along my braid to reveal the pink ribbons she'd intertwined into my braid, and then the smaller bow she'd tied at the base of my braid.

"What's all that?" I asked, a bit amused, but a bit surprised, too.

"It goes with your nightie," Brooke smiled.

"It really does," Melissa agreed.

Even Elena shrugged a bit. "It's cute, but if you don't like it, Brooke will take it out."

"It's adorable," Brooke said. "Why would I take it out?"

"Because it might make Brook uncomfortable," Elena said with a bit of authority.

I tried to keep the mood light, though, and laughed. "Well, it's nice to know that you all see me as a nine year old girl."

"Oh, stop it," Brooke said with a laugh. "I was just having some fun. Do you want me to take it out?"

"No," I sighed, very dramatically, "it's fine."

"Good," Brooke smiled, "cause I think it's sexy."

"Then you're sick," Elena said.

We hung out in Brooke's room longer than I would have expected, since it was already past ten when we got home, and it was well past midnight before I went downstairs and went to sleep on the coach.

Now, as I've told you, I always woke up early to make my dad breakfast and even pack his lunch when I lived at home. That didn't happen at the Kerr's house. Mrs Kerr only worked two or three days a week and she didn't eat breakfast before she left. She just put her travel mug into the Keurig coffee maker, pressed the 'brew' button and grabbed it on the way out the door.

So, sleeping-in was the norm at the Kerr's.

On that particular morning, Mrs Kerr had left for whatever kind of job she did at around eight thirty. I heard her come down the stairs and she whispered an apology for waking me. When she'd left, I went back to sleep.

Just before ten, someone knocked on the front door and woke me up from a deep sleep. By the impatient sound of the knocking, I guessed that the person had probably been knocking for quite sometime, because the knock was rather forceful and loud.

"Coming," I shouted, as I threw back the light blanket I'd slept under and hurried to the door. I pulled it open to find a man in a suit and a uniformed police officer standing on the Kerr's front stoop. "Yes?" I asked, sleep still in my eyes. "Can I help you?"

The man in the suit looked at the officer, then cleared his throat. "Oh, umm... I'm sorry if I woke you, honey... umm... is your mommy here?"

I rubbed my eyes and tried to see better and asked, "My mommy?"

"Yes, honey. I need to speak with your mommy."

It was at that point that I realized how I was dressed. Now, I'm a little guy, but I was only kidding when I said I looked like a nine year old. I had to look at least as old as Elena. Well... maybe the combination of the overly feminine nightie and the ribbons in my hair made me a look a bit younger, but... this guy was talking to me like I was in elementary school.

"You're looking for Mrs Kerr? She's not here. She's at work," I said, deciding that challenging his perception of me would not help the situation.

"Oh, I see," he nodded. He looked at some paperwork in his hand. "Well... is there a Mr Brook Chapin here?"

Now, I ask you - How would you have answered that question under those circumstances? You're standing there in a childish nightie with your hair in braids and ribbons and this guy thinks you're a young girl. Would you just say, 'Oh, I'm Brook Chapin?' No, of course you wouldn't. And neither did I.

"Umm... he's not here, either. I think he went with Mrs Kerr."

"I see. I see," the man nodded and looked at the officer.

The officer was growing impatient and asked, "Are there any adults in this house, honey? Anyone eighteen or over?"

"Well, yes, there's Brooke..." I said, half to myself.

"I thought you said that Brook wasn't here," the man in the suit said.

"Not Brook Chapin - Brooke Kerr," I said. "She lives here. I'll go get her."

"Thank you," the man in the suit said.

I left the door ajar and ran, barefoot, up the stairs to Brooke's room, shaking her. "Brooke, wake up. There's a policeman and a man in a suit at the front door and they're looking for me."

"What?" she asked, becoming conscious. "Why are they looking for you?"

'I don't know, but I answered the door dressed like this and they think I'm a kid, so they want to talk to an adult. That's you."

"Oh... ok," she muttered as she pulled back the covers and sat up. She was wearing really short sleep shorts and a lacy, spaghetti strap top that offered only a little modesty. She stood and took my hand, leading me back down the hallway. I'm not really sure how awake she was, but she was moving.

"What's going on?" both Melissa and Elena asked as they exited their rooms, apparently awakened by my sprint up the stairs.

"I don't know," Brooke, said. "Don't come downstairs, though."

"What?" Melissa asked.

"Why?" Elena asked.

"Just stay up here," Brooke commanded as she and I headed down the stairs. Elena and Melissa obeyed, but they did run to the railing that overlooked the front door foyer to watch.

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, the two men had taken advantage of me leaving the door open to step into the foyer and wait inside.

"May I help you?" Brooke asked, rather tersely.

"And you are?" the man in the suit asked.

Brooke shocked me by being completely unintimidated by either the suit or the uniform. "Who am I!? I beg your pardon? Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house? Did you invite them in?" The last question was leveled at me. I just shook my head.

"Well, if no one invited you into my house, then why are you standing INSIDE my foyer asking me who I am!? Let me see some identification right now, or I'm calling the police."

The uniformed officer stepped forward. "Ok, now, calm down, miss. Obviously, I am a police officer..."

"Do you have an ID that proves that?" Brooke cut him off.

The officer pulled out a laminated ID card and showed it to Brooke. "Yes, I do. See? Now, please. Calm down."

"How about you?" Brooke snapped at the man in the suit.

He seemed very flummoxed by Brooke's aggressiveness, but he reached into his jacket's breast pocket and pulled out an ID card with a lanyard hanging from it which indicated that he was from the District Attorney's office.

"Alright," Brooke nodded, then, finally, released my hand and folded her arms across her belly, "now that I know who you are, can you explain why you are INSIDE my house?"

The police officer spoke calmly. "Well, Miss...?"

"Kerr," Brooke said, irritated.

"Well, Miss Kerr, usually people would rather not have a police officer loitering on their front stoop. Since your little friend here left the door open, we stepped in just to keep the neighborhood rumor mill from kicking into high gear."

"I see," Brooke spat, "so you invaded my home as if we were criminals in order to save us the embarrassment of looking like criminals?"

"Look, Ms Kerr," the man in the suit said, "if we offended you, we apologize, but I need to speak to an adult about a legal matter and then we will get put of your hair. Are you eighteen or older, Ms Kerr?"

"Yes, I am," Brooke said with authority.

"I don't want to upset you, but is it possible for me to see some official identification to confirm that?" he asked.

Brooke huffed and grunted and turned to look up the stairs. "Will one of you grab my pocketbook?" she called up to her sisters. Seconds later, Elena was running down the stairs with Brooke's purse in her hand. "Thank you," Brooke whispered. "Back upstairs, please." Elena glanced at me, then ran back up to join Melissa.

Brooke opened her wallet and showed her license to the two men.

"Thank you," the man in the suit said. Then, he held out a Manila envelope. "Ms Kerr, I need you to give this packet to Mr Brook Chapin. He is staying with you, isn't he?"

"He is," Brooke said, taking the envelope. "What is this about. Brook hasn't done anything wrong."

"Yes, we know," the man in the suit said. "Apparently there was a meeting here yesterday between Mr Chapin and his father."

I felt a flush of concern wash over me.

"Yes," Brooke said, "but I wasn't there."

"Nor was I," he said, "but I understand that things went well."

Brooke nodded.

"Well, the judge is recommending that the case be moved from criminal court to family court in order to expedite a resolution. I just spoke to Mr Victor Chapin, the defendant, and he is eager to proceed in this manner."

Brooke scoffed. "I should think he would be. Anything to get it out of criminal court, I would imagine."

The man in the suit corrected her. "Well, yes, but he could still face criminal charges, even in family court. What family court may be able to offer, though is some benefits to the younger Mr Chapin. It is unusual for a case such as this, with an adult victim, to be moved to family court, but His Honor feels that this would be a way for Mr Brook Chapin to find some support as he deals with his sexual issues."

I almost passed out. My 'sexual issues?' What the heck did that mean and were these 'issues' going to be discussed in a courtroom in front of other people!?

"Brook has no 'sexual issues,'" Brooke said with a defensive tone. "He is perfectly comfortable with who he is."

Well, that was true much of the time, but at the moment... it certainly was not. Standing there looking like a tween girl of some kind, I would be the first to admit that I was more than a little uncomfortable with who I was at that particular moment.

"Well, be that as it may," the man in the suit nodded, "please have Mr Chapin review this packet with his attorney and contact my office as quickly as possible. I think this may be a beneficial option for him."

Brooke nodded. "Alright. I'll give it to him. How can he reach you?"

"My card is in the envelope," he said. "Thank you for your time, Ms Kerr, and I do apologize for waking you." He looked up at Elena and Melissa and waved. "I apologize for waking you young ladies as well."

Then he looked right at me. "And thank you for your help, young lady. By the way, I like the bow in your hair."

I just stared for a moment.

"The man paid you a compliment, dear," Brooke said to me. "What do you say."

"Umm... thank you," I said.

The man smiled at me. It was probably a kind, paternal smile, but it felt kind of creepy under the circumstances. "You're welcome, sweetheart," he said, with a pat on my shoulder. Then he looked at Brooke. "I have one about the same age at home. I haven't seen her in ribbons and bows in years, though. Enjoy it while you can." He winked at me and then he and the police officer left the house.

The second the door closed, both sisters bounded down the stairs and wanted to know what everything they'd overheard meant.

"How would I know," Brooke shrugged, handing me the envelope. "Let's have some breakfast and you can look all of this paperwork over."

Now, 'Let's have some breakfast,' means something very different to me than it does to most people. I wanted to start up the stove and make something filling and comforting, but Brooke sat me at the kitchen island with her sisters and put a bowl in front of each of us, then poured in some rainbow colored cereal rings of some sort into the bowls and poured milk on them, pronouncing that 'breakfast.'

About fifteen minutes later, my rainbow colored cereal rings untouched and soggy, I pronounced the paperwork I'd been given indecipherable.

"Maybe you should call your lawyer," Melissa suggested.

"I don't have a lawyer," I shrugged. "My dad is the defendant, so the court appointed him an attorney. I'm the victim. The state represents me. I don't know what any of this means."

Without a word, Brooke picked up her phone, searched for a name, then put the phone to her ear. After a moment she said, "Mark Kerr, please. This is his niece, Brooke Kerr."

"Who is she calling?" I asked.

"Uncle Mark," Elena said, matter of factly. "He's our dad's brother. He's a lawyer."

"Brooke," I waved at her. "I can't afford a lawyer."

She scowled at me and shook her head. "Uncle Mark, hi! I'm good. You? Yep, we're all good. Hey, I have a friend with a problem. He has some paperwork from the court that he can't figure out. Do you think you might be able to take a look at it for him. No, Uncle Mark, he was actually the victim of a crime and he just needs you to tell you what it means. Yes. Perfect. We'll see you then. Love you, too. Bye."

She ended the call and smiled. "We're having lunch with my Uncle Mark at 'Guido's' at one forty five. Go shower so I can make you pretty."

"Are we all going?" Melissa asked before I could argue about involving her uncle.

Brooke thought and then sighed. "I suppose you guys will have to come. Mom would kill me if I left you home alone. I'll send Uncle Mark a text so he's not surprised when we all show up. But remember - this is about Brook's court papers. Don't interrupt Uncle Mark during lunch."

"Cool!" Melissa and Elena both said, jumping up from their stools to go get ready.

"Brooke," I said, "I really can't keep imposing on your family..."

"Blah, blah, blah..." Brooke said, very loudly. Then, when I'd stopped talking, she said in a normal voice, "Listen to me, Brook. I love you, so you are part of my family. Uncle Mark loves me, so he won't mind helping out someone that I love. Besides, I'm not asking him to become your lawyer. I'm just asking him to read those papers and tell you what they mean. That's not a lot to ask of a family member, now is it?"

I shrugged. "I guess not."

"That's right," she smiled. "So go shower and let me make you look like a big girl so we can go figure all of this out."

And so we met Uncle Mark at Guido's Restaurant for lunch. Uncle Mark looked a lot like Brooke's dad, but he had this added kind of movie star good looks to him. He dressed really, really well and he had a dazzling smile, and his hair was perfect. In short, he was as handsome as Brooke was beautiful. I guess that's where she got her good looks.

We were all dressed well, Uncle Mark in a suit that he told Brooke came from 'his tailor in London,' and the rest of us in nice summer dresses. Mine was a pale blue, cold shoulder dress with little flowers all over it that was rather blousy and kind of made me look like I had more bust than I really had, even with my padded bra. I was also wearing my new strappy heels that I'd worn the previous night.

"To tell you the truth," Uncle Mark said, as he looked over the paperwork and sipped on his clam chowder, "I don't much care for this arrangement at all."

He looked at me and spoke in a very sincere voice when he asked, "As I understand things, Brook, the resolution you are looking for is that your father agrees to continue to seek help with his anger management and sobriety, and that you can return to your home, correct?"

I nodded.

"Well," he explained, "I think we can do that more easily without the interference of family court. In essence, what they are proposing is that your father does those things while remaining on probation, which may make it difficult for him to remain employed, which leads to a whole other kettle of fish. It also would require family therapy for the two of you, which I'm not necessarily opposed to, but forcing it on you seems harsh. The thing that bothers me the most though is that it seems to want to impose therapy on you to 'assist with your transition,' but in our brief discussion today, you have indicated that you are not transitioning. Is that correct?"

"That is correct. I am not transitioning," I said, emphatically.

"Brooke has discovered that he is gender fluid," Brooke offered. "He wants to remain male, but express himself as a female."

"I understand," Uncle Mark said with a nod and an understanding smile, "but it seems that the courts do not." He took a sip of water. "My suggestion is mediation. We get together with your father and his attorney and see if we can come to an agreement that the courts will agree to and, if necessary, oversee, but not interfere in quite such a draconian manner. We may be able to work things out so that your father isn't on probation per se, but that his case is reviewed in ninety days, six months or a year, or something along those lines. We could remove the stipulation of transition therapy for you, etc. How does all of that sound?"

"Great, I guess," I said, with a big sigh. "I honestly don't know."

He nodded and smiled again. "I understand. You enjoy your lunch now and leave this to me. I'll make some calls this afternoon and call Brooke to let you know how things work out. Usually the judge in charge just wants a happy resolution for everyone involved, so my guess is that he'll be open to my solution."

I nodded and cleared my throat. "There is something I need to talk to you about, though, sir. See... I don't have any money to pay for all of this..."

He put his hand on mine and shook his head. "I'm doing this as a favor for Brooke's boyfriend. Understood? No payment is going to be requested and you will owe me nothing when this is all over. Ok?"

"Yes, sir," I nodded and smiled, relieved. "Thank you, sir."

"And that 'sir' stuff can stop right now, too. Uncle Mark is fine."

"Ok... Uncle Mark... Thank you."

True to his word, within a few hours of the end of our meal, Uncle Mark had worked out a mediation plan with the judge and my dad's attorney. We were going to meet in a few days - my dad, his attorney, a Clerk of the Court who would act a mediator, Uncle Mark and me - to see if we could work all of this out.

That meant my time at the Kerr house might be coming to an end soon.

Brooke and the girls and I did visit a nail salon a few days after our visit with Uncle Mark. I got very short extensions added to my fingers and had my toes and fingers painted a bright, bubblegum pink. I really liked the way that everything looked.

We made the most of what might be our last few days all together in the same house, though. I taught Elena how to cook a few things - I tried to teach all of the sisters, but only Elena was paying much attention. Brooke gave me some intensive tutorials on hair care and makeup. Melissa taught me how to clothes shop with a personal flair and Elena went through her closet and gave me a whole suitcase full of clothes that she thought I might like.

It was kind of wonderful to have sisters.

I was very nervous the morning of the mediation, though. I mean, even though my dad had beat me up pretty badly... he was still my dad and I wanted to get back to living with him. It was important to me that we become a family, again. Really important.

But it was also important to me that he understood that I was a gender fluid person, now. That I was going to be expressing myself in a manner that I felt appropriate. He needed to accept that.

So, I was dressed very well for the mediation. I wore a soft pink colored, off the shoulder, summer dress with a lace top to it, that clung tightly to me up top then flared out into a loose skirt that only went to my mid-thigh. I had on a pair of conservative, white, low heeled sandals that I borrowed from Elena and I borrowed a simple gold necklace and a simple gold bangle to match from Melissa.

Brooke did my hair and makeup beautifully. A little curl so my hair had some bounce and my lips looked full and moist. My eyes popped and my skin was radiant.

In short, I looked like a very attractive young lady as I entered the courthouse with Brooke and Mrs Kerr. I'd never been in a courthouse before and it was... a lot to take in. Lots of stress. Everyone was under a lot of pressure. You could feel the fear and anger around you. I didn't like it.

Uncle Mark met us in the lobby and led us to a meeting room on the second floor where my dad, his court appointed attorney and a Clerk of The Court were waiting. Mrs Kerr and Brooke waited in the hallway outside the meeting room. Dad stood as Uncle Mark and I entered.

"Hi, dad," I said, already feeling better, just seeing him.

"Hi, Chef," he said. He shook his head as he looked at me. "You look... amazing," he half smiled.

"Thanks," I said as I blushed a bit.

"Have a seat," Uncle Mark said, indicating a chair.

The next two hours were kind of a blur for me, but the long and the short of it are that my dad apologized to me like he'd never apologized before. He swore up and down that he'd never raise a hand to me again. He agreed to go to anger management therapy, to attend weekly AA meetings and check in with the court in three months and every three months after that for five years to be sure that he was meeting all of the terms of our agreement.

After a lot of talking, Uncle Mark turned to me and asked, "Are you satisfied, Brook?"

I nodded. "Yes."

Then the Clerk asked, "And do you feel comfortable returning to your home?"

"Yes, I do," I said, confidently. "That's really all I want. To be able to return home and live with with my dad again."

The clerk nodded. "Then, I think we've reached an agreement here."

It took a few minutes to have some papers drawn up and for my dad to sign them, but then we were back to being a family again.

"Can I hug my son?" my dad asked when he stood.

"Of course," Uncle Mark said, stepping aside.

I met him halfway and we embraced each other and he hugged me tighter than I ever remember him hugging me. "Oh, Brook, I missed you so much," he said and I could tell he was emotional. The fact that he used my real name was a big clue, but I could feel him shaking, too, and I'm pretty sure he was crying as well.

"I missed you, too, dad." I said.

"I am so sorry, honey. I promise... I promise... I promise... I promise... I promise... I will never hurt you again. You are the most important thing in my life, Brook and I was a complete idiot to ever hurt you. Never again. I promise."

I just let him hug me and reassure himself as much as he was reassuring me that he had changed.

"We should get going," Uncle Mark said after my dad had been hugging me a very long time.

"Yeah," dad said, letting me go and wiping his eyes. "Yeah. Ok."

We walked out into the lobby and met Mrs Kerr and Brook.

"Everything settled?" Mrs Kerr asked, giving me a hug and a kiss on my cheek before giving my dad the same.

"Yes," I replied, a bit tongue tied with emotion.

"We're good," dad said.

Brooke hugged me tightly, then looked at my father and scowled. "Pardon me for saying so, Mr Chapin, but you are far from being 'good.'" She stepped up to him and got right into his face. "In fact, I would say that you are still on pretty shaky ground, as far as I'm concerned."

"Well..." my father tried tried to smile and calm her down, but she wasn't backing off.

Brooke is a tall girl, but she was still half a head shorter than my dad. That didn't seem to bother her, though. "No, sir, there is no 'well' at all. Let me be very clear, so that there are no misunderstandings. I love Brook and I am very concerned about his well being. If I so much as SUSPECT that you have hurt him in any way, and I mean even if you hurt his feelings, I will be on the phone with my Uncle Mark and he will be on the phone with this Courthouse and there will be a police car in front of your car so fast your head will be spinning. Am I making myself clear?"

"As crystal," my father nodded.

"Brooke," Mrs Kerr said, fairly gently, "this is between Brook and his father. You shouldn't be butting in where you have no business."

Brooke never broke eye contact with my father, though. "Bullshit. I don't care what happens from here on out. I don't care if he becomes Mother Teresa of Calcutta, he still beat my little love half to death and I'll never trust him and he needs to know that."

My father nodded and held up a hand in a classic 'halt' manner. "Ok, Brooke. I understand what you're saying and I have apologized to my Brook for what I have done. I have promised him and I promise you and your mother... it'll never happen again."

She didn't smile, not by a long shot, but she did back off a bit and said, "Damned right it won't." Then she looked at me and took my hand. "Come on, baby. Let's go."

I noticed that my father put his arm around Mrs Kerr as they walked along the hallway, too, so obviously they were still an item, which I guess was a good thing.

"Listen," Brooke said quietly to me, "if anything happens - any time of the day or night - you call or just come back to our house. Ok?"

I nodded. "Ok."

"Nothing," she said, "and nobody, is ever going to hurt you again. Understand? Because I won't let it."

I smiled at her. "Ok." I knew she meant what she said, but I did have this nagging feeling that no matter what I'd gone through with my dad, it was just a preview of what awaited me in a couple of weeks when I returned to school for my senior year in my new persona.

Author's Epilogue: I hope you've enjoyed this part of Brook's journey and that you'll join me in a few weeks (it'll take me that long to write it) as Brook starts his senior year of high school and the formerly invisible boy returns to school as a beautiful, gender fluid partner to a beautiful girl. As always, thank you for reading and for your support. Please stay well. ~Clara.
 
 
To Be Continued in series as A Boy Called Brook - Autumn

A Boy Called Brook: Autumn 1 by Clara Copyright© 2022, 2024 Clara Schumann   As summer comes to an end, Brook returns home to his (hopefully rehabilitated) father and prepares to return to school for his senior year. Lots of concerns about how he will be received by his classmates.

I have to admit, when I got home with my dad I was really surprised to find the house pretty clean. No dirty dishes in the sink - some were still in the strainer, but they were clean. The floors were swept and the rugs vacuumed. Maybe not quite as spic and span as I'd keep it, but clean and picked up. Cleaner than my dad's usual standards of clean, that's for sure.

Being back in my own home was a strange mixture of comfortable and weird. It was nice to be back in my own bedroom and with my dad, but it was impossible to forget that, not long ago, I had been the victim of a pretty brutal assault in this kitchen, the space that I loved so much.

"Sooooo...." my dad asked, trying to act nonchalantly around me. "How do we move forward from here?"

I shrugged. "I don't know, dad. Maybe we should start with a nice supper."

He chuckled. "Yeah, well... I haven't been shopping in a while, so the cupboards are bare. I figured we could go shopping tomorrow. How about some Chinese or Thai food? We could have it delivered and just... you know... talk a bit. What do you say?"

I nodded. "Chinese sounds good. Want me to call Yang's?"

Dad smiled. "Sure. I'll have sesame chicken."

"Mind if I share that?" I asked.

"Perfect." Dad smiled and walked away.

I was sharing dad's sesame chicken for two reasons. One, because I liked it and two, because I wanted to keep the cost down. After nearly a month with the Kerr's, I was used to their rather thoughtless spending and I wanted to be sure that I got myself back into some more appropriate spending habits.

While we waited for the food to arrive, I pulled the few pieces of male clothing I had in my closet out and piled them on my bed so I could drop them off in a donation bin. I spread my collection of dresses that Brooke had given me out on my closet rod so I could access them and then I added in the dresses that Elena had given me. When I was done, I had more clothing than I'd ever owned before, but not a single pair of trousers among them.

Then I cleared out my bureau drawers and threw away my socks and boxers, replacing them with bras and panties, still nothing sexy, just what Mrs Kerr had bought for me. I kept a few tee shirts in case I needed them for any reason, but everything else went into a pile to be brought to the local second hand shop where I might get a couple of bucks for them.

"Food's here, Chef," my dad called from the kitchen. So, I left things as they were and I joined him on the deck where he'd brought a couple of glasses of iced tea and some paper plates and silverware. Nothing fancy, but nice.

After I was seated and had a plate of sesame chicken in front of me, dad smiled and said, "It's nice to have you back home, Chef."

"It's nice to be here."

There was a strange awkwardness between us that had never existed before.

"Umm... so... I... ummm... did..." my dad stuttered against the silence, trying to find a way to start a conversation.

"You can ask me anything you'd like, dad," I finally said. "I've thought about what I'm doing a lot and I am happy to talk about it."

He let out a nervous laugh and said, "Ok... thanks." He nibbled on his chicken a bit, then asked, "So... why? I mean... do you just like the way the clothes feel or something like that?"

I smiled at the simplicity of the question. "Well, to be honest, yes, I love the way the clothes feel, but that's not the reason." I took a moment to get my thoughts together. "There's kind of a lot to it, really. Dad... I've never really felt... right... in my own skin. It's like... I never felt like I was presenting myself as... myself. Does that make any sense?"

He nodded and listened.

I continued. "I always felt like I was someone else, but I was stuck in the ugly little body of Brook Chapin and there was no way out. Then Brooke came along and all she did was brush my hair out and I saw myself - the real me - looking back at me from the mirror for the very first time. I know how weird that sounds to someone like you, dad, but that's the truth. I think I always knew that there was a girlish side to me, but, dad, once it came out... I just knew that that was the real me. Do you get that?"

He smiled and nodded, again as he took that in.

"There's more too." It seemed like I couldn't stop talking now that I'd started. "Dad... if you had to go out into the world everyday and everywhere you went, people looked at you like you were weird - like... too small, or maybe too fat, or too ugly... whatever... you wouldn't like it very much, would you?"

"No, I guess I wouldn't," he said.

I sighed. "Dad... for eighteen years, every time I went anywhere... I was always the smallest guy... always the weirdest looking guy... always the weakest guy. I knew it and so did everyone else. There was no way to avoid it. Every time I entered a room, I looked for the safest place to go. The place where no one would see me and make my life miserable. Now... when I go out like this... Either people think I'm pretty or they just notice that I'm there and they smile and move on. That's a lot better than feeling their contempt or feeling like you're invisible. Think about how I used to look, dad, and then look at me now. Don't you think that this is an improvement?"

He thought and he gave me a sad smile. "Chef... I'm sorry if I ever made you feel that way. I never meant to."

I shrugged. "It wasn't just you, dad. It was the whole world. This is a lot better. I'm much happier now. Really I am... and I hope you can be happy for me."

Dad nodded. "Ok, Chef. That's what really matters, I guess. I want you to be happy." He began eating his dinner in earnest and so did I.

Eventually, dad spoke again. "Umm, we probably should talk about your clothes, pal."

"My clothes?" I asked.

He nodded and chewed. "Look, buddy, I have had to take a little time off lately because of visits with therapists and all the court stuff, and I'm going to honest... money is tighter than usual. I'm not sure how much I can help you with clothes."

"I understand." I smiled. "I have plenty for right now. I'm kind of hoping to find a job, too."

That seemed to surprise him. "A job? What kind of a job are you thinking about?"

"Well, cooking would be best, of course. There's a job assistance office at school. I thought I might talk to them about finding something."

Dad thought about that for a few moments. "Look...umm... Chef... I'm not trying to discourage you, but I just want to remind you that we only have the one car and there's only a couple of restaurants in town. If the school places you in a job that's a long way away... I just don't know how we could handle that."

I nodded. "Yeah, ok. I understand, but... look, Dad, I know that college is out of the question for now so I need to do something. I need a job."

"I know," he said, then quieter, "I know." He thought for a bit longer. "Hey... it never hurts to ask, right. See what they have available and we'll see what happens from there, ok?"

"Ok." I smiled. That was a huge compromise for my dad. In the past, there was never a gray area. It washes or no and if it inconvenienced him, then the answer was definitely 'no.' "Thanks, Dad."

It was about ten days before school was starting again and Brooke had to go in to meet with the principal and her guidance counselor. As an incoming new student, they had to review her transcripts and make sure her schedule had everything she'd need to meet graduation requirements. Knowing that I would need to talk to the school about the somewhat modified status of my sexuality, I tagged along.

It was a brutally hot August day, so I wore a very light, pale pink, summer dress that had a modest boat neckline, cap sleeves and hung nice and loose with just a little bit of a waist. It only came to mid-thigh on me. It was cool and cute.

Brooke went in first and was in Principal Kemp's office for about a half an hour while I waited in a chair by the front desk. When she finally emerged, Mr Kemp asked the head secretary to take Brooke to another office to pick up some paperwork.

"Certainly," the woman said. "There's a Miss Chapin waiting to see you and Ms Olsen."

"Oh," Mr Kemp said, looking in my direction. "Miss Chapin? Come right in, please?"

I stood and came around the counter. "Are you transferring in, Miss Chapin?" my principal for the last three years asked.

"No," I said, passing into his office where Ms Olsen, my guidance counselor stood and behaved as if she'd never met me before as well. "I've been here for three years, Mr Kemp. I'm going to be a senior. And it's not 'Miss Chapin,' it's 'Mister.'"

Both Mr Kemp and Ms Olsen stopped and looked at me, then at each other. "Mister?" Mr Kemp asked. "And you're already a student here?"

"Yes," I assured them.

Ms Olsen was typing into her laptop. "The only Chapin we have here is a Brook and she is... oh... I apologize... HE is a going to be a senior. In the Cuisine Academy, I see."

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

"Well, take a seat, Brook," Mr Kemp said. "I apologize, but... I must say, you do not look at all like a MISTER Chapin." He looked a bit confused.

"No need to apologize, sir. I am presenting myself in this manner from now on and I thought that I should talk to you and Ms Olsen about it before school started."

"Indeed," he said. Then he stared at me and continued to mutter as he mulled, "Indeed. Indeed. Indeed..."

"So," Ms Olsen took over, "are you transitioning, Brook? Becoming a woman, I mean?"

"No, ma'am, I am not. I am living my life as a male, but presenting as a woman."

Both of the older people in the room let out a long, frustrated breath.

"Well, that does pose some problems, Brook," Mr Kemp said. "For the school, I mean."

I crossed my legs at my knees and folded my hands in my lap. "How so, sir?"

"Well," he leaned back in his seat a bit, "we have had a couple of boys who decided to become girls and several girls who decided to become boys, but they were a bit easier to deal with. See, if they needed to use a restroom, they just used the restroom that was assigned to the sex they chose to become. Same thing with the Phys Ed changing rooms. If you're still a boy, but just dressing up as a girl, that's a different thing. What lavatory do we allow you to use?"

"If you don't mind me saying, Mr Kemp," I said, remaining as poised as possible, which is what I promised Brooke I would do, "that statement you just made reflects a rather ignorant and old fashioned view of sexuality and I found it rather offensive."

Mr Kemp smirked at me. "Well, if you don't mind me saying, MISTER Chapin, I find your last statement very offensive as well. You see, I am responsible for nearly twelve hundred students in this building and I cannot focus on the needs of just one who decided that he was going to wear a dress and makeup to school."

I nodded. Maybe it was from living with Brooke for a while or maybe I was just tired of being pushed around, but I had heard enough. "Perhaps I should call my lawyer, Mr Kemp. Your first statement was just ignorant and insulting. Your last statement violated my civil rights." I pulled my cell phone out of my pocketbook and called up Uncle Mark's phone number. I pushed the number and put the phone to my ear.

"Now, now, now," Ms Olsen said, standing and touching my arm. "Let's talk a bit before we get lawyers involved." I disconnected my call and looked to her. She sat back down and looked at her computer screen.

"Ok, Brook, I apologize for Mr Kemp's lack of tact, but let's see what's happening here and how we can work things out. Ok?"

"Ok," I said.

Mr Kemp just grunted.

"Alright, well, Brook, it appears that Phys Ed isn't going to be a problem. You have all the Phys Ed credits you need for graduation. We'll return to the rest room issue later. Now, I'm looking at your grades and I'm seeing an 'A/B Student' with no problems up to this point. Have we ever met in person before, Brook?"

"Yes, ma'am," I nodded. "At the end of freshman, sophomore and Junior years so I could do my schedule for the following years."

"Really!?" She seemed surprised. "Hmm.... I'm looking at your ID photo from last year and you look very different now. I'm sorry if I am a bit confused."

"That's ok," I said. "This is how I plan on looking from now on, though."

"I see," Ms Olsen nodded. "Well, I assume that you have considered the social ramifications of showing up to school looking completely different, then?"

"I have."

"And your friends are aware of your decision to change sexes... I'm sorry... to change your... physical presentation?"

"I don't have any friends at Tech, Ms Olsen," I assured her. "Brooke Kerr, the girl who was just in here, is pretty much the only person who will be at Tech who even knows who I am."

"How do you know her?" Mr Kemp asked.

"She's my next door neighbor."

That seemed satisfy him.

"Well, this isn't going to be easy for you," Ms Olsen continued. "Kids can be pretty mean to students that behave differently. Of course the staff will help all that we can, but there are going to be
uncomfortable, maybe even dangerous situations if you choose to come to school like this."

"Are you suggesting that I not live as myself, Ms Olsen?" I asked.

She smirked at me. She wasn't about to get caught in the trap Mr Kemp had wandered into. "I am suggesting that there are social norms and you are not going to be living within those norms and that you are expecting a lot of other teenagers to just accept you as you are. Acceptance of new ideas is not normal behavior for a high school student, Brook. That's all I am suggesting."

"Again, no offense, but those norms have changed in other school systems. Just because they haven't changed in this school doesn't mean that I need to deny who I am just because this school's concept of society is twenty years behind the larger school systems."

"It doesn't mean that we have to leap twenty years into the future just to accommodate one self indulgent student, either," Mr Kemp said, still leaning back in his chair.

"I think you'll find that the laws of the United States of America and The Commonwealth of Massachusetts may disagree with you, Mr Kemp," I said with way more confidence than I actually felt. "I can forward the laws regarding people like me to you, if you'd like - OR, as I mentioned before, my lawyer, Attorney Mark Kerr, could do that for you, if you'd prefer."

Finally, he sat forward. "I'm not sure why you think you're someone special, MISTER Chapin," he said with controlled annoyance, "but I have been the principal of this school for twenty three years and you don't scare me. Wear your dresses and makeup to school if you want and see what happens. I won't stop you. You can use the boys' lavatories, the same as any other boy. I think this ends our meeting."

Ms Olsen cleared her throat. "Well... let's be reasonable, Jack. Brook would not be safe in the boys' lavatory. Brook, there is a single person lavatory in the kitchen area of the Cuisine Academy. You can use that. As for your choice of clothing, if you run into any problems, please feel free to come see me to discuss any issues that you encounter."

At that point, she passed her computer over to Mr Kemp. He looked at whatever she indicated on his screen and grumbled a bit. I think it might have been Uncle Mark's law firm's website. Then he shook his head and looked at me, a fake, frustrated smile on his face. "Yes, absolutely. As you know, my door is always open. Please feel free to come to me with any problems. Thank you for coming in today, Mister Chapin."

I stood, trying to project more confidence than I felt. "Thank you both for seeing me. I'm looking forward to my senior year." I headed out the door and I could hear the two of them griping about me quietly as I left.

Well, my first encounter with my high school had not gone well at all. This didn't bode well.

Brooke's Jeep was unlocked, so I headed out to it and I sent her a text to tell her where I'd be waiting for her. As I walked down the sidewalk towards the parking lot, Mrs Simpson, one of my advanced cooking teachers, was walking towards me. I had her second semester last year and learned more from her than I'd learned from all of my previous teachers put together. She looked at me and smiled and said, "Good morning."

"Hi, Mrs Simpson," I said, as I passed and kept walking, but almost immediately, I heard her call me from behind.

"Brook!? Oh, my God, Brook Chapin, is that you? Brook, honey, you look amazing! Come here!" She came towards me and hugged me, which was odd, since up until that moment she'd only ever said hello to me or commented on my work.

After the hug, she held me at arms' length. "I cannot believe how great you look, Brook! Tell me what brought about this metamorphosis, honey. Oh, my heavens, I always knew there was a beautiful rose waiting to bloom under all that shyness."

Well, this was different! Support from the school. Holy cow!

I was about to speak when something she said hit me. "Mrs Simpson... you think I'm a girl, don't you?"

"Well, of course I think..." She stopped and her smile wavered. "... I mean... you... umm..." Finally she gave a nervous laugh. "Yes, honey, I always thought you were a girl. I guess I should pay more attention to the class roster stats." Her smile came back full force at that point, "But what difference does it make. Obviously I was right. You are gorgeous, honey. And it's even more amazing since you were born a boy. Tell me how this came about."

I gave her a brief summary of my summer and how Brooke and I had worked together to find my new look. She was truly amazed by everything and offered as much support as possible at the school. That was a great thing to hear.

"So, you're not going all the way and transitioning, then?" Mrs Simpson asked, seeming surprised. "I know it's a very personal question, but might I ask why?"

I shrugged. "Because I don't want to be a woman," I said as if that made perfect sense, which it did to me. "I am very happy to remain a man and have a relationship with my girlfriend. I have no interest in losing the part of me that makes me a man."

She nodded and gave me a bit of a knowing smile. "I think you need to talk to a profession fairly soon, Brook. A physician or a psychologist or someone who has more experience in things like this than you or I do."

I was a bit offended, but Mrs Simpson was speaking in a very friendly manner, so I pushed my offense aside. "Why is that?"

"Well... for an eighteen year old, you're lucky. You're more of a boy than a man right now. Most of your male classmates couldn't pull off what you're pulling off. They have out grown their female classmates, or filled out their frames and they have facial and body hair that you don't seem to have to deal with. But all of that will change at some point. And I am speaking from experience."

I looked at Mrs Simpson and my eyes grew wide. "You mean... you?"

She laughed. "No, no, no, but thank you for being surprised if it had been me. No, I did have a close friend, though, and he chose a similar route to you. Things didn't go well in the long run, though. Once his biology caught up with him, he had to make some radical choices and... well, just get to a councilor right away, ok?"

I nodded. "Ok. I will, Mrs Simpson. Thank you."

Brooke arrived at that point and I introduced her to Mrs Simpson, who complimented on helping me find myself. "So, how do you like our school?" She asked Brooke.

"I think I'll get along great here," Brooke said with a big smile. "I met one of my shop teachers and showed her my portfolio and she said I could work in the salon for outside customers right away. How cool is that?"

"Very cool," Mrs Simpson laughed.

"Oh, that reminds me," I said. "Mrs Simpson, I need to find a job and, unfortunately, it kind of has to be nearby because I don't have a car. Do you think that school's job finder might have something for me?"

Mrs Simpson shrugged. "I'll take a look, Brook, but I'm not sure I can guarantee a cooking job right away. You don’t have any experience, just yet. Of course, you’ll be cooking for the school’s restaurant this year..."

"I will!?" I asked, surprised. This was something only the best students were invited to do.

"Yes, of course," she smiled. "I’m surprised that you didn’t expect that. In fact, I’m hoping that you might try to get one of the sous chef positions, but we’ll talk about that in class. Anyway, working in our restaurant will give you some experience, so if things go well, I may be able to recommend you for a kitchen position after the first semester, but I may be able to find you something locally for now. It may not be in a kitchen, but it’ll be in a restaurant. Give me some time and I’ll see what I can find, ok?"

"That would be great. Thank you." I was elated that I was going to be on the kitchen staff for the school restaurant. I knew I didn’t stand a chance of getting one of the sous chef positions, but it was nice of her to say that. The possibility of getting a job was now just icing on the cake.

We said our goodbyes and got into Brooke’s Jeep and headed out of the school’s parking lot. I was so happy about my unexpected meeting with Mrs Simpson that I wasn’t even upset about Mr Kemp and Ms Olsen any more. I was floating on cloud nine as we rode along and it was a good long while before I realized that we were not headed home, but rather we were headed into the city.

"Where are we going?" I asked Brooke.

She smiled. "I have a surprise for you. A girls’ day out."

"Shopping?" I asked. "I told you that I’m broke."

"Not shopping," she giggled. "Much better than shopping."

She pulled up in front of a columned building that looked as if it had once been a very fancy home, but now had a parking lot beside it that indicated a business, but there was no signage at all.

"What’s this?" I asked.

"This is your surprise. Come on." She smiled.

She got out of the Jeep, so I did as well and took her hand as we walked to the front of the building and into the front door. Inside, there was a beautiful double staircase with a reception desk at the center of the space. At that desk sat a beautiful woman in her twenties who greeted us. "Hello. Welcome to St Onge Salon. How may I help you?"

I was still getting past the grandeur of the entrance as Brooke stepped forward to the reception desk. "Hi. I’m Brooke Kerr and this is Brook Chapin. We have appointments with colorists and stylists."

The woman checked her tablet then smiled back up at us. "Yes you do. Please come this way."

She led us into another grand area, although this one had been renovated into a more standard salon with maybe eight or ten chairs. She sat Brooke and me side by side and said, "Gail will be with you both in a few moments. Enjoy!" She smiled and she left.

"Sooo," I looked at Brooke, "what’s going to happen?"

"We shall see!" Brooke smiled and giggled.

"Good afternoon, ladies!" A lady in her late thirties said as she approached. Then she stopped and looked at Brooke. "I remember you. I did your makeup for prom in May, didn’t I? Brooke, right?"

Brooke seemed thrilled that the woman remember. "Yes, you did. I can’t believe you remember!"

Honestly, I can’t imagine how anyone could forget Brooke. Sure, there are lots of pretty girls around, but Brooke is someone very special. She isn’t just beautiful – she exudes beauty.

"I remember everyone," the woman smiled. "And you brought me another victim," she laughed, looking at me. "How do you do?" She said to me, extending her hand. "I’m Gail."

"Hi, I’m Brook," I replied, amused by the woman’s ebullience.

She looked surprised and then pointed to each of us as she said our names. "Brooke and Brook. Interesting. And you two are friends?"

"Actually, we’re dating," Brooke said proudly.

"Oh, nice." Gail smiled. "That’s a change since May, right? As I recall, you went to the prom with a boy, didn’t you."

"I did, but there’s been no change," Brooke laughed. "Brook’s a boy, too. He’s just much prettier than the boy I went to prom with."

I was only slightly surprised Brooke was so forthcoming. After all, I needed to get used to telling people I was a guy. It did catch me by surprise, though.

Gail looked at me, her eyes wide. "No. You’re not really a boy, are you?"

"I am," I nodded.

"No," she gave my arm a playful slap. "Tell me the truth."

"That is the truth," I assured her. "I am a boy."

"Well," she gave me a big smile, "when I’m done with you, you are going to be the prettiest boy that ever lived."

I blushed a little. "Ok... thanks."

So, Gail and her assistants went to work on both of us. First came our hair color. Brooke’s hair got blonder and streaked with honey colored highlights. My brown hair got a little darker and gold and red highlights were added.

Then came our hair styling. I didn’t really understand what Brooke and Gail were talking about when they discussed ‘layering’ my hair, but when Gail was done, I was shocked! My hair had so much more body and form to it. It was amazing! Brooke had hers done, too, but her hair already had been layered before, so it just looked refreshed. Mine looked entirely different and I adored it!

Then came makeup. Lots of discussions of colors and seasonal tones that just went right over my head.

"Don’t worry, sweetheart," Gail assured me, "I’ll give you a printout of everything I’m talking about before you leave. I’ll make sure that you can maintain the look I create for you."

"Don’t worry, honey," Brooke said as a girl worked on her face, "I’ll make sure you learn how to do everything that Gail recommends."

The whole procedure of hair coloring, hair styling and makeup took almost three hours. I couldn’t imagine what all of this was going to cost, and to tell you the truth, I never found out. What I did find out, though, was that when I looked into the mirror a much prettier Brook looked back at me. It was shocking, awe inspiring, exciting and wonderful. I was so enthralled with my own reflection that I couldn’t look away from the mirror until Brooke, having paid for everything, came over and kissed my cheek.

"Come on, Snow White. We all know that you’re the fairest in the land. Let’s go home." She teased.

We got into the keep and headed back home, but I lowered the visor and looked at myself again.

"So... you like how you look, then?" Brooke asked.

"I’m kind of amazed, actually," I laughed.

"Really," Brooke smirked at me. "Why? You don’t look all that different."

"Maybe not all that different than I did this morning, Brooke," I explained, "but I’m an entirely different person than I was when summer began. I was just getting used to looking like a girl, but... look at me! She made me look amazing. I’m as pretty as any girl at school except you."

That made Brooke laugh. "Wow, are you the little egomaniac. Yeah, I suppose you are a little more... finished... than you were before, and your hair does look pretty cute, but that’s all, honey. All she did was tweak what you came in with and brought out the best of you. True, I’d love to take you out some place fancy, right now, but isn’t that a good thing?"

"I guess." I shrugged and I would have continued to have the discussion, but my phone rang. "It’s Mrs Simpson," I told Brooke and I answered the phone. My teacher told me that she’d made a couple of calls to local restaurants and because of my lack of actual kitchen experience no one had a cooking job for me, but if I wanted a waitstaff job at a local place called The Wireworks, I could head there for an interview this afternoon. I thanked her and hung up, then explained everything to Brooke.

"Wow," Brooke smiled at me, "that’s great. The Wireworks is only a few miles away from home. That would work out great. Want to go now?"

"Sure."

So we headed that way and arrived at a good time to speak to the manager, during a lull after the lunch rush and before the dinner crowd. Brooke came in with me, but went into the bar and ordered a soft drink while she waited.

The Wireworks was a very trendy place located in an old wire mill in our town. It had been renovated into this restaurant about ten years earlier. I’d never set foot in it, of course, because it was a kind of pricy place, but I’d heard a lot about their food and service from my teachers at school.

The manager, who was the daughter of the owner/chef, was a pretty woman in her early thirties named Amanda. She smiled very broadly and wore a lot of makeup, but wore it well, and she carried herself like she was a dancer. Very poised, straight backed and had an elegance about her.

"You must be Brook," she said, extending a hand as she hustled towards me. "Alice Simpson has told me a lot of great things about you. She tells me that you’re a hard worker and that you’re looking for a job in the restaurant industry."

"I am," I said, nervously. "I’m studying to be a chef, but I’m willing to do anything to get my foot in the door. Working here would be like a dream come true."

Amanda smiled. "Well, let’s see if we can make that happen. Come with me."

We went into the bar and, coincidentally, sat near Brooke. Amanda asked me a lot of questions about myself – my age, my education, my expectations for myself, things like that. Then she handed me an application and told me to fill it out while she dealt with something elsewhere.

"I’ll be right back," she said and she left as I went to work on the form.

"Seems like things are going well," Brooke said without looking as if she was talking to me.

"I think so," I said. "I’m not really sure what job I’m interviewing for, but it feels like things are going well."

"Good." Brooke reached over and squeezed my hand. "Good luck."

I was finishing up the form as Amanda returned. ‘All done?" She smiled as she took the form and looked it over. She nodded as she reviewed everything. Then she stopped and pointed at a spot on the sheet. "Oops. It looks like you checked the wrong box here. See? You checked ‘male’ by mistake."

I was just a little embarrassed, but I forced a smile and said, "No, actually... that’s not a mistake. I am male... a male... a boy... I mean."

She looked at me really closely. Then she kind of squinted at me and shook her head. "Seriously?"

"Yes, ma’am," I said, with a nervous laugh. "I didn’t want to lie on the application."

"No, no," she laughed, again. "No, you absolutely shouldn’t lie, but... well... I have to admit, I am impressed. I never would have guessed if you hadn’t told me."

She shook her head once more and went back to the application. Finally, she looked at me and smiled, "So... Brook... here’s the situation. My father is the chef and he would not allow you in his kitchen without some experience. That’s not because he’s mean, it’s just important that The Wireworks maintains a standard of professionalism. So, for the time being, I’m afraid that’s not a possibility."

I nodded.

"But, if you’re really interested in learning the business, I can offer you a job. It’s not exactly on the waitstaff, but it is an important component of the waitstaff’s coordination."

She just looked at me and I just waited for a better explanation for a good long moment before I asked, "What exactly is the job?"

"Well, it’s actually the job of receptionist or greeter, as it’s usually called in a restaurant. You would be greeting people at the front door, then seating people evenly throughout the dining room so that all of the waitresses have an equal number of customers throughout the shift. I know that, to the general public, it just looks like a pretty girl saying ‘hi,’ but there’s a lot to the job, and it’s an important part of what we do. It’s also a great way to get your foot in the door and start learning the business. What do you think?"

"What do I think?" I asked, pretty excited. "I think that if you’re offering me a job, then I’m really happy about it and I am accepting it."

Amanda held out her hand and I took it in mine as she said, "I am offering and I am very glad that you’re accepting. I’d like you to come in next Tuesday at four and I’ll train you to do the job. Ok? In the meantime, I’ll email you the employee handbook and you can take a look at that at your leisure. Sound good?"

"Sounds amazing!" I was actually giggling, I was so excited. I couldn’t believe I was getting a job!

Amanda was chuckling at my giggles. "I’m very happy that you’ll be joining us. Hopefully, by Tuesday I’ll find another girl to work with you. We always have two receptionists on at all times and I’m looking for at least one more girl. So if you know someone..."

Amanda was interrupted by Brooke. "Ummm... Hi... Excuse me. I couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying..."

A little while later, Brooke and I got home and found her mother and my dad on the Kerr’s porch. So we hurried out to tell them our good news.

"Oh, my goodness!" Mrs Kerr gushed when she saw us. "Look at you two! Oh, you look absolutely beautiful! Both of you! I love what they did to your hair! Vic, don’t they look gorgeous?"

My dad put down his soda and stood to look at me. "Wow, Chef... I thought I was getting used to the new you, but this is a whole new level of... well... you, I guess. Holy smokes. You look... well... beautiful."

"Thanks, dad," I smiled, "but guess what! I got a job! Right here in town! At The Wireworks!"

That actually made dad pause. "You’re going to be cooking at The Wireworks!?" he asked shocked.

"Well, no... not cooking... not yet..." I said, a little deflated, but still excited. "We’re starting as greeters. You know... when customers come in, we’ll meet them and figure out where they’ll sit, etc. That kind of thing, but the lady the hired us told me that if I’m really interested in the restaurant business, she’d make sure that I learn how they run that place and, maybe if I’m lucky, I can get to at least learn from their chef – maybe even work with him, after I get some kitchen experience."

My father blinked as he processed everything I’d just spewed out at a thousand miles an hour.

"Wow!" he finally said through laughter. "That’s great, Chef! I’m very happy for you. Do you know what your schedule is going to look like?"

"Wait, wait, wait," Mrs Kerr said, waving her hands. "I distinctly heard Brook saying ‘we’ a few times. Who, exactly, is this ‘we’ that he spoke of?"

"Us!" Brooke said, with as much excitement as I felt. "I ended up getting a job there, too!"

"That’s fantastic, honey!" Mrs Kerr said, hugging Brook. "Vic, do you know what this means?"

Dad smiled and looked from Mrs Kerr to Brooke to me, then asked, "What?"

"Discounted take out from The Wireworks, of course! We’ll be eating high off the hog because of these two."

"I had not thought of that," dad laughed. "I’ll have to watch my waistline." He slapped his pretty firm gut.

"Well, we don’t know if we get any kind of a discount, yet," Brooke explained, "but if we do, we’ll let you know."

"Oh, who cares." My dad waved his hand. "I’m just really happy for you, Chef. I hope this turns into something big for you down the road. It’s a good start, anyway, and I’m very proud of you for going out and getting yourself a job."

Geez, talk about a surprise! My dad had never given me a compliment like that before. "Gee, dad... thanks."

"Say," suddenly, my father seemed more animated, "why don’t we head over to our place? I have a surprise for you and I can’t wait for you to see it."

"A surprise for me?" I asked, curious, but a bit suspicious as well.

"What kind of a surprise?" Brooke asked, sounding much more cautious and still not pulling any punches when it came to my dad.

"Oh, I think it’s the kind of surprise you might appreciate, too." My dad gave Brooke a sly smile. "You can come and see it, too, if you want."

Brooke looked at her mother who smiled a smile that said she knew what was waiting for us next door, but she didn’t offer any hints.

"Come on," my dad said. "I can’t wait to show you what I got you."

So, we all headed over to our house with dad leading the way. He opened the kitchen door and we all went in. We stood there for a few moments, looking around, but there was nothing new to be seen anywhere.

I figured he must have been teasing and I went to the refrigerator and opened it.

"What are you doing?" Dad asked.

I pulled my head back out and looked at him. "I’m looking for your surprise. I figured you got some nice big steaks or something for supper."

He laughed at that. "Nope. Go look in your room."

I headed down the hall to my room with Brooke right beside me. We entered together, but she gasped when she saw it before I did.

"Oh, wow! It’s beautiful!" she gushed and I turned to see what she was looking at – and it was beautiful.

It was an Art Deco style, woman’s vanity with a big round mirror on it. It had two sections on each side that almost looked like two matching nightstands, each with two draws and with rounded corners that smoothly transitioned from the sides to the tops. Between those two section, there was a kind of desktop area with a long, shallow draw beneath it. It was all covered in beautiful, reddish, maple veneer and each draw had a long, brass handle on it, with two on the drawer in the center, and each draw pull had a great deal of Art Deco detail in it. The big, round mirror was mounted over the center section of the vanity and was wide enough to reach almost from one end of the piece to the other. It also had a matching piano-stool-style seat that slid under the desk top inbetween the two nightstand-like sides.

It was in absolutely pristine condition, too! It looked like it had just been manufactured and delivered to our house, even though it could not have been made any later than the start of World War II.

"Dad..." I said, kind of in shock, "... I don’t know what to say... It’s beautiful. Thank you."

He was beaming with contentment. "I’m glad you like it, Chef. I saw it on an online yard sale site and it seemed perfect for you. I’m not going to pretend that I understand why you feel the need to look like you do, but I want you to have someplace to... you know... keep all your stuff, and get ready. You know what I mean."

"What he means," Mrs Kerr explained, "is that he is discovering that having a teenaged daughter is very different than having a teenaged son, and that he wants you to get all of your makeup, hair products, hairdryers, curling irons, etc, out of his bathroom so he can have his sink back."

Dad looked at Mrs Kerr and laughed. "Well... yeah... there’s some of that, too, but... I guess I’m just trying to show my support. I hope it makes you happy."

Dad and I had never been overly touchy-freely, but he had hugged me more lately than ever before, so I let my defenses down and gave my dad a slightly awkward, but very grateful hug. "Thank you, dad. It makes me very happy."

He kissed the crown of my head. "I’m glad, honey."

That was new, too. ‘Honey.’

"Come on," Brooke finally said, bouncing and clapping her hands. "Let’s get your stuff and get everything set up."

About twenty minutes later, my new vanity was set up. Mrs Kerr had gone back to her house and brought me a couple of very pretty, porcelain trays that she said would be good for me to keep anything with fluid in on, and she’d also brought me a lacy placemat kind of thing to put on the middle section of my vanity to protect the beautiful veneer.

"Oh, I’m so jealous!" Brooke said when she looked at the completely set up vanity.

"It is pretty, isn’t it?" I asked, with a wide smile.

"It really is," she said, putting her arm around me. "Now that you have this great work area, I’m going to give you some very intensive makeup lessons. When you leave the house everyday, you had better look your best!"

I ran my hands over my new, very female-centric piece of furniture and said, "I will!" I let out a big, happy sigh. "I like this so much. I can’t believe my dad bought this for me."

"I know." She shook her head. "I admit, he surprised me."

"You think he’s really changed?" I asked.

"I think he’s trying," she shrugged, "and that’s more than I expected."

For the next few days, in the mornings, while dad was at work, I sat at my new vanity and struggled to do my makeup and hair as well as Brooke did it. When she’d come over later in the morning, Brooke would critique my work and teach me to be better. Within a few days, though, she was telling me that I looked really good.

Mrs Kerr took us shopping for our new clothes for work. Our employee guidelines stated that we needed to wear either black skirts with white tops or black dresses that were not too revealing. The dresses could have a pattern or print on them, but must be businesslike. Brooke, of course went crazy at a high-end place. I did buy one skirt and blouse there, although both were on sale, but I convinced them to stop at some second hand places as well and I got everything I needed at those. A couple more skirts and tops, but a bunch of black dresses that all seemed pretty and comfortable. Mrs Kerr also insisted that we each get a pair of nice, ‘sensible’ pumps to wear, which turned out to be a very good idea, since we ended up standing for the entirety of our shifts.

On Tuesday, we returned to The Wireworks for our first day of training. Brooke was excited, while I was kind of apprehensive. I guess that was just my nature.

Amanda showed us the ropes, though. How to clock-in, where to lockup our pocketbooks, and how to do our job. We greeted people at the front door and then used a small whiteboard with a diagram of the restaurant to figure out where to seat them, then we guided them to their seats. We had to make sure that the customers were all well spread out and the all of the waitstaff were getting a steady flow of customers. It wasn’t all that hard, but it did require a lot of attention. We both seemed to catch on fairly quickly and the waitresses were all really helpful.

Some customers just wanted to sit at the bar, which was easy enough. This one guy, who was in his mid to late thirties arrived at about six that first night and seemed to know everyone. Amanda introduced him to us as Mr Davies.

"Mr Davies joins us nearly every night," Amanda said.

"That’s right," the man laughed. "I can’t get enough of this place." Then he leaned over to whisper to us, "The truth is, I can’t cook and I live just down the street, so this is very convenient." Then he looked at me and said, "You look very familiar. Do I know you?"

"I don’t think so," I answered in all honesty.

"Hmm," he said, looking at me more closely. "I guess you remind me of someone. I’ll think of it." Then he went into the bar where everyone seemed to know him and he ordered a beer and sausage with mashed potatoes for his supper.

At the end of that first night, Amanda told us that she was very happy with how we had done and that we made a good team. We had to come back the next night and do it all again, but without as much of Amanda’s supervision.

It went really well that night, too – and every night after that, as well. I also met Amanda’s father and talked to him a little about cooking, but he wasn’t real open to someone as young as me working in his kitchen. That was fine, though. I was learning a lot working in the dining room.

Every night that I worked, Mr Davies came in and every time that he saw Brooke and me, he’d greet us the same way. "Well, look at this! Two brooks that merged in a restaurant," and then he’d laugh at his own fairly lame, but harmless joke. Then he’d tell me how much I reminded him of someone. "I just can’t put my finger on it," he’d laugh. "I’ll figure it out one day, though."

That first weekend was a lot of work. It got really busy and people were more impatient than during the week, but I followed Brooke’s lead and we were able to charm the customers a bit and calm them down and, surprisingly, everything went pretty well!

Which brought me to the next week and the start of my senior year. Now, earlier in the summer I’d been afraid to tell my dad about my new self and, as you know, I had good reason for that, but I was kind of petrified about the first day of school.

On Monday, Melissa and Elena started school at the local high school, not the Tech High School where Brooke and I were going. Since Mel and El were freshmen, they started a day earlier than everyone else in order to get the feel of the school without all of the upperclassmen around. Brooke was driving them, so I went with them too.

"Are you excited?" I asked Elena as we waited by the Jeep for her sisters.

She shrugged. "I guess." She looked back at the house, then, in a quieter voice, she said, "I’m a little scared that they may not be real accepting of people like me."

I snorted out a little laugh at that. "I’m sorry," I said. "I don’t mean to laugh, but I know exactly what you mean. I’m petrified of what’s going to happen tomorrow when I go back to school."

Elena nodded and smiled. "I guess we’ll just have to be strong, huh?"

"I guess," I agreed.

She hugged me. "You send positive thoughts my way today and I’ll do the same for you tomorrow, ok?"

"Ok."

"Alright, let’s get these two to school!" Brooke called as she came out of the house. "Mel has tried on thirty eight different outfits this morning and I had to drag her out the door."

"And I HATE this one!" Melissa pouted, looking very pretty in a flowered top with a loose fitting pair of pale lavender shorts.

"I think you look great," I assured her.

"Yeah?" She said as she approached the car. "You don’t think I should wear something more dressy for the first day?"

"I have a tiara in my backpack if you want to borrow it," Elena teased.

Melissa stuck her tongue out at her younger sister. "Not everyone wants to look like an unmade bed."

"Knock it off," Brooke warned. "El looks great. Just get in the car and let’s get going. You’re going to be late if we don’t leave NOW!"

About ten minutes later, we were dropping off the girls at the high school. I gave each of them a hug and a kiss and wished them luck. We stood by the Jeep and watched them as they went into the building. Then Brooke took us to a local coffee shop for a nice breakfast to celebrate our last day of freedom before school started the next day.

After we’d ordered, Brooke looked across the table at me as she stirred the cream into her coffee. "So... nervous about tomorrow?"

"Petrified."

"Don’t be." She smiled. "I’ll be there with you. I think you’ll find more people like Mrs Simpson than Mr Kemp. I bet things will go smoothly."

I shook my head as I played with the tea bags in my cup. "I think you are over estimating the open mindedness of the student body of our school."

She sipped her coffee and smiled. "I think you are going to be pleasantly surprised."

"We shall see."

"Well, look at this," a familiar voice sounded near us, "two brooks merged in another restaurant." It was Mr Davies and a very pretty, blonde woman, both very well dressed in expensive business attire. "So you two don’t just hang out at work?"

"No, we hang out pretty much all the time." Brooke smiled. "Hi, Mr Davies."

"Hi, ladies," he smiled. "Oh, this is my partner... my business partner, that is... Jessica Caulfield. Jess, these are The Brookes. They work at The Wireworks."

"Oh, Lord, The Wireworks," the woman laughed. "I always tell John that he should stop paying the mortgage on his condo and just live at The Wireworks."

We both smiled at that.

"Umm... ladies, look, I hate to be a jerk, but Jess and I are in a bit of a rush and it’s kind of crowded. Would you mind if we join you in your booth?"

"No, not at all," Brooke said, but to tell you the truth, I was caught off guard a bit. I wasn’t great at small talk with strangers.

I think Brooke was going to join me on my side of the booth, but without hesitation, Mr Davies sat beside me and Ms Caulfield sat beside Brooke.

"So," Mr Davies smiled and made eye contact with each of us, "what brings you two girls out so early?"

"We just dropped my sisters off for their first day of high school," Brooke explained. "We figured we’d get some breakfast to celebrate our last day of summer before we start our senior year tomorrow."

"Oh, wow, seniors," Ms Caulfield smiled. We went on to talk about where we went to school and what we we were studying, etc, then Ms Caulfield asked if our families were from the area.

"My mom’s family is from this town," Brooke smiled. "That’s why we moved back here this summer. Right next door to Brook."

"Oh? And what’s your mom’s maiden name?"

"Lachlan," Brooke said.

"Oh, the Lachlans over on Oak Street?"

"Yes, that’s my grandparents." Brooke smiled. "Do you know them?"

"I do." Ms Caulfield nodded and smiled. "They do their retirement investing with us. John, you know the Lachlan."

"Sure. Very nice people." Mr Davies nodded and smiled as he ate his omelette.

Then Ms Caulfield looked at me. "How about you, Brook? Is your family from around here?"

I nodded. "Yes. My dad grew up here. Went to high school in town."

"What’s your last name?"

"Chapin," I said.

That seemed to make Ms Caulfield’s eyes open wider. "Is your dad Victor Chapin?"

I nodded. "Yes."

"Oh, my God. I went to school with your dad. How is he?"

"He’s fine," I said with a smile. "He works at the lumber yard by the river."

She looked more closely at me. "You look a little like him, actually."

"Wait!" Mr Davies interrupted. "Who does she look like?"

"Her father. Victor Chapin."

He thought for a moment. "Nope. I don’t know him, but I definitely think she looks like someone I know."

"Well, she looks much more like her mother." She looked back at me. "Your mom is Beverly Ahern, right?"

I must have looked confused, because I certainly was.

"Oh, my God, that’s who she looks like! Of course!" He slapped the table. "Bev!"

"Wait, wait, wait," I said. "My mom wasn’t named Beverly." I only knew a little about my mother, the topic of my mother was strictly off limits at my house, but I did know her name was Karen.

"No, of course not," Ms Caulfield said with a shake of her head. "Beverly changed her name after she flaked out and left your dad. Back in high school her name was Karen."

I looked at Brooke in shock. These people knew my mother? I thought she’d left the area years ago.

I couldn’t even form words, so Brooke asked the question that she knew I wanted to ask. "So... you know Brook’s mom?"

Ms Caulfield laughed. "Know her? Honey, I’ve known her my whole life. That woman is insane – not always in a bad way, mind you, but definitely insane."

"And she lives around here?" Brooke asked.

Ms Caulfield shrugged. "Oh, who knows. Sometimes she does. Usually she lives down south, but she still has a place over by Fulton Park, but..." she looked at me and smiled. "... well... you know how your mom is."

"Actually," I said, "I haven’t the slightest idea how my mom is."

"Oh," Ms Caulfield said, then looked around, a bit sheepishly. "Well... in that case... I suppose I’ve said too much. I’m sorry."

"That’s ok," I assured her. "It’s certainly not your fault. Actually, I’m kind of glad to know that she’s alive and doing ok."

Ms Caulfield looked at me. At first I saw some pity in her, but that changed to a smile. "Actually... that’s very sweet of you, dear. Very sweet."

I didn’t think it was sweet, though. I just thought it was normal.

When we finished our breakfast, Mr Davies insisted on paying for everything. "Consider it reimbursement for us inconveniencing you," he said, with a wink. I wasn’t real comfortable with the idea, but I just followed Brooke’s lead and let him pay.

When we left the restaurant, Brooke asked if I had been upset by the conversation about my mother.

"Not really," I said. "I mean, I was kind of surprised, but I suppose that it’s bound to happen from time to time. It probably just never happened before because I never went out before. Next time, I won’t be as surprised."

I don’t know if it was because of Melissa’s anxiety that morning, or what, but suddenly I was gripped with a great deal of concern about what I was going to wear to school for the first day. After breakfast, we went back to our house and I pulled pretty much everything I owned out of my closet and I tried it on for Brooke, asking for her opinion on everything. Eventually we settled on a pretty, flowered sun dress that I had bought a few weeks earlier. So I took it out of the closet and ironed it so that it looked crisp and fresh for the next day.

"You don’t have to do this, you know," dad said to me at dinner, sensing my fears about the next day. "You can just put your hair into a pony tail and wear a tee shirt and jeans, if you want."

I chuckled. "Yeah, well, I threw away all of my boy jeans and even if I hadn’t, with my hair cut and conditioned like it is, my eyebrows trimmed, my ears pierced, my lips plumped and my skin smoothed from my lotions, I’d just look like a girl in jeans and a tee shirt."

Dad raised his eyebrows. "I guess you have a point."

I hesitated for a moment before I said, "Umm... dad... I met someone who said she knew you, today."

He looked at me and looked a little surprised. "Oh, yeah? Who was that?"

"Her name is Jessica Caulfield."

He thought for a second and then her identity seemed to dawn on him. "Oh... Jess Caulfield. Ok, I remember her. We went to high school together. She was a friend of your mother’s, actually."

"Yeah, she mentioned that," I nodded.

He was quiet for a few moments, then asked, "Did she say anything else?"

"She said that my mother still lives around here sometimes, but she spends most of her time in the south."

Dad nodded.

"She also said that my mother was insane."

Dad guffawed at that. "Well, that’s an understatement." Then he looked at me and shook his head. "I’m sorry, Chef. I shouldn’t say things like that about your mother. What I mean is... look... we may not have had a perfect life and I’m not exactly Brad Pitt and I’m certainly never going to be rich, but... what kind of a person would leave a kid as great as you? I mean... she must be insane, right?"

I smiled at that, but I could tell that dad was uncomfortable with the topic.

"Look, Chef," he said, "I knew your mother was around. I’ve even seen her a few times. I’ve never told you about it, though, because... well... because she never showed any interest getting involved with your life and... I guess I just figured it was best not to bring her up if there was no chance of reuniting with her."

I nodded, but didn’t say anything.

"Was I wrong?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No. And don’t worry. I’m not going looking for her or anything. Like you said, she left me, so..."

When I left it hanging, dad nodded. Then he came over to me and gave me a hug. "You’ve got me, Chef. For what it’s worth, I’m not going anywhere."

"I know, dad. Thanks."

I didn’t sleep much that night and I got more nervous as the morning approached. I was up at four thirty and I took a good, hot shower. I washed and conditioned my hair and made sure I shaved my legs, pits and face nice and close before I retreated to my vanity and went to work on my hair and makeup.

By the time dad emerged from the shower, I not only had his western omelette, tomato juice and rye toast on the kitchen island waiting for him, but my makeup was done, my hair was wavy and I was wearing the very pretty flowered sundress I’d ironed the previous day, nice, dangling, garnet earrings, a matching garnet necklace and comfortable, one inch, strappy-heeled sandals.

"Well," he smiled and chuckled a bit, "this is certainly a different first day of school than ever before."

I sighed. "I know."

"Are you sure you’re up to it?"

"I guess. I mean, I have Brooke with me, so it should go ok."

"How many classes do you have with her?"

"Only two. English, first period and Civics, last period. We both have third lunch, too."

He nodded. "And the rest of the day?"

I shrugged. "I’m on my own, but... up until now... everyone has pretty much ignored me, so..."

"You think they’re going to ignore you now?"

I shrugged again. "Probably."

He cut up his omelette and thought for a minute. "If anyone gives you a hard time, go see Mrs Simpson, and if you need me... just keep your phone with you. I’ll come to the school as quickly as I can. Ok?"

I nodded. "Ok, but I think I’ll be ok. Besides, you’ve already missed a lot of work. I won’t call you unless it’s absolutely necessary."

He finished his breakfast and stood up, wiping his mouth on a paper napkin. He normally would just turn and say goodbye as he left, but he stopped and looked at me for a long time. Finally, he shook his head and took a deep breath before he spoke.

"Look, Brook... a lot has changed this summer, and... well... I never thought I’d be sending a daughter off to school..."

"Dad, I’m still your son, I’m just..."

"Say whatever you want, Brook, but... I don’t really see you as a son right now. I used to send you out that door and I figured that you’d figure out how to take care of yourself, but now... I have to admit... I’m pretty worried about you."

"I’ll be ok, dad. I promise."

"Honey, it’s not just that you’re facing all those kids looking so differently. It’s that... It’s that you’re a girl now, well, at least you’re a girl in the eyes of the rest of the world, Brook, and I know how I viewed girls when I was in school and, to be honest, it kind of scares me to have boys looking at you that way."

I let out a little laugh at that. "I’m not interested in guys, dad, and once they find out who and what I am, I don’t think they’re going to be interested in me, either."

He shook his head. "Just promise me you’ll be extra careful at all times, ok?"

"Ok," I said and I smiled at his newly found parental concern.

"Ok." Then he looked very awkward. "Come on. Give me a hug."

I was shocked. "Really?"

"Yeah. Really. I want my daughter to give me a hug."

"Dad... I’m still your..."

"Shut up and give me a hug."

I couldn’t help but smile as I sidled up to him and accepted a warm hug.

"Honest to God," he said, "I swear you feel even smaller than you did before." Then he let me go, gave me a kiss on the cheek, grabbed his lunch and left for work.

"You look really cute," Brooke told me as we headed to school.

"Thanks." I smiled, a little embarrassed. "You look gorgeous," I told her, and she did. She was wearing a really beautiful white blouse that was kind of long, with a had a translucent bell sleeves. Below that, she wore a loose, pale blue skirt that came to just above her knees and really sexy, narrow heels. Of course her hair and makeup were both perfect.

She was, as as she always was, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.

We pulled into the parking lot and I took a deep breath before getting out of the Jeep.

"You ready?" Brooke asked, as she opened my door for me.

"I guess so." I smiled and climbed down.

"That’s my boy," she said as she straightened my dress and kissed me. "Come on, now. Tits up. Let’s go."

"If only I had tits," I said, walking beside my girlfriend.

"You can get them if you want them," she said, suddenly serious.

I blinked at her. "What are you talking about? I can’t just grow breasts."

"Of course you can," she giggled. "Or you can have them implanted, there’s a lot of ways you can get breasts... if you want them."

I stopped walking and looked at her. "Huh... are you serious. I could do that?"

She shrugged. "Sure. There’s all kinds of options. Is it something you’re interested in?"

I thought for a moment. "Maybe. I’m going to think about it."

We walked up the stairs and into the school, past some people I’d known for years. I could feel them looking at me, but I could also tell that they were looking at me differently than they had before. I don’t think they recognized me, but I think they were trying to figure out who I was.

This was it. I was like a lamb about to be discovered wandering through a huge pack of wolves. God, I suddenly felt so scared.
 
 
To Be Continued...

A Boy Called Brook: Autumn 2 by Clara Copyright© 2022, 2024 Clara Schumann   Back to school with mixed acceptance. Dad runs into some problems and Brook and Brooke nudge their relationship forward.

I guided us to our first period English class in the Academic Wing of the Tech High School - the rest of the building was dedicated to the various trades. When we got there, Mr Casey, our homeroom/period one teacher was standing by the door and he stopped us and asked our names before referring to his paperwork.

"Alright... Chapin, take that locker. The combination is on the masking tape. Pull that off and write down the combination before you throw away the tape. When you forget it, and you probably will forget it, everyone does, I have it in my files. Kerr, take the locker to the right of Chapin. Same thing goes for the combination. Questions? No? Good. Next?"

"He's pleasant," Brooke whispered as we crossed the hall to the lockers.

I shrugged. "Actually, he's ok. I think he just comes on kind of strong at first to look like a hard ass, but you'll like him."

"Chapin!" I heard from behind me. I turned and Mr Casey motioned for me to follow him down the corridor a bit. Once we were separated from the rest of the kids, he spoke quietly. "I'm sorry if I come across as dense, Brook, but I just realized who you are. You... umm... you want to fill me in on what's going on with you?"

I shrugged a little. "Nothing's going on, Mr Casey."

He cleared his throat. "Ok, look, I apologize if that seemed aggressive. Forgive me, I'm a sixty two year old man and these things are new to me. What I mean is... and I'm not trying to pry, I'm trying to be helpful... is this how you're going to be coming to school from now on? Dressed as a female, I mean."

"Yes, sir," I answered, looking around. "Actually, I came in and talked to the principal and the head guidance councilor a few days ago and I kind of hoped that they'd have let you all know about it ahead of time."

He scoffed at that. "Well, of course they didn't, but that's to be expected. Why would we expect anyone getting paid six figures to actually do their job well. Never mind that... Ok, Chapin, this is fine, but it's going to be challenging for a lot of people. You know that, right?"

I shrugged, noncommittally.

"Don't give me that, Chapin. You're not stupid. You know that no one has ever gone broke underestimating the intellect of the American public, and that goes triple for the American teenager in the American public school system, so don't be coy. You're going to be facing a whole lot of stupid and you know it, so when that happens, what are you going to do?"

"Stand my ground, I guess."

"Good," Mr Casey nodded and leaned closer, "and when that doesn't work, you hustle your ass right up here to my classroom and you let me handle the jackasses for you. You understand me?"

I don't know if I was smiling at his silly, stern expression or at my relief at his overly protective words, but I smiled, nonetheless.

"Wipe that smile off your face and tell me you understand," he demanded.

"Yes sir, Mr Casey. I understand."

"Alright, then," he nodded and returned his attention to his paperwork. "Then get your butt into my class and take a text book off the pile. Open it to the page on the board and get ready to start your senior year."

"Yes sir." I started back towards the classroom, but stopped and turned. "Thank you, Ms Casey."

He didn't look up. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Chapin."

Homeroom/period one ran long so that first day things could get done, but it went ok. There were a few people in the class giving me the sideeye, but all in all no problems. We were passing through the hallways to period two when a girl tapped me on the shoulder.

"Excuse me," she said.

I turned and recognized her. Her name was Alex Winter. I'd gone to school with her since second grade, but I don't think I'd spoken to her once in all of that time. "Hi," I said, confused that she was speaking to me now.

"So... you're Brook, right?"

"Yeah," I said, hoping to just continue on my way.

"So... what's this all about?"

"It's just me being me, Alex."

I turned and started to head to my period two class, but she moved in front of me. "So do you still have your cock, or what?"

I have to admit, I was surprised that the first person to attack me was Alex. Like I said, I'd known her a long time, but my existence had never seemed to register on her radar before. I'm surprised it suddenly did then.

"Alex, I have to get to class," I said, as I maneuvered to get past, but she stopped me.

"I'm guessing you don't," she said standing way too close to me. "I'm guessing that you had it cut off and thrown in the trash somewhere, didn't you? I mean... why would a guy... any guy... who has a cock want to be this big a pussy?"

I wanted to slap the superior smile she was wearing right off of her face, but I just said. "Get out of my way, Alex, or I'll have to report you to a teacher."

She nodded. "See. You ARE a pussy."

"And you ARE an asshole," I said, but immediately regretted sinking to her level.

"We're not going to get suspended on the first day of school, are we ladies?" a teacher I'd seen at school before, but didn't know, said as she came up beside us. She folded her arms and looked at both of us.

"I'm just trying to get to class," I said.

The teacher nodded and looked at Alex. "Then let her pass, Alex," she said. "Unless there's a reason I need to have you both of you accompany me to the main office."

Alex rolled her eyes and shook her head. "I'll let the little freak pass, but I'm going to have my parents call the school to complain about me having to share the hallways with a fucked up little pervert like him."

"And we have a winner!" The teacher clapped her hands. "Congratulations, Ms Winter!" she said to Alex. "You are going to be the first person to be suspended this year. Come on with me and we'll do the paperwork to make it all official. I'm sure your parents will be proud."

Alex looked at me and gave me an evil smile. "I hope you don't think this is over, queer-bait. I'll be back in a couple of days."

"NOW, Alex," the teacher said, with no patience in her voice. As soon as Alex stepped towards the direction of the office, the teacher looked at me and asked, "What's your name?"

"Brook Chapin."

"Where are you headed?"

"L-227," I said.

"Well..." she waited, but didn't say anything, so I just waited until she continued, "... get a move on. I'll have the office call for you if they need you."

I looked past the teacher and saw Alex talking to a guy I knew named Cody, who was a big deal in the Automotive Academy. I knew he had a big, fast car, he played a lot of sports and he was really loud in the cafeteria, too. He was a buddy of Jack Gallagher, Alex's boyfriend, too, but that's about all I knew about him. As Alex talked to him, she pointed at me and Cody looked my way and nodded to Alex. Rather than waiting around to see what they were discussing, I just looked at the teacher and said, "Yes, ma'am," and headed to my next class.

For the most part, I went unnoticed in my next class. The teacher looked at my name on his list, then looked at me, checked his list again, then shook his head in apparent disgust, but that was about it. I could live with that.

Periods three and four were in the kitchen. The Culinary Academy worked in alternating weeks. On the first week we had double periods in which we would learn about recipes, techniques and the history of food and food traditions. On the second week, we'd work in the kitchen preparing actual food for pretty much the entire day. And since I was a senior, that meant that I'd be working on the team that prepared food for the restaurant that we ran at the school. So, I knew it was going to be an exciting year.

We had several Culinary Arts teachers, but Mrs Simpson ran the program and she was running my class that first day. She welcomed us all back and talked about the program, reminding us that we used a lot of dangerous and unforgiving tools and appliances. "You screw around in my kitchen," she said firmly, "and you'll find yourself thrown out of this program so quickly your head will spin."

We all nodded, knowing she meant what she said.

"Now," she said, changing her tone, "something exciting to discuss. Someone tell me what the word 'sous' means in French."

A lot of people put up their hands and she called on a girl a few seats to my left.

"It means 'under,' Mrs Simpson."

Mrs Simpson nodded. "That's right. So, a 'sous-chef,' is an 'underchef,' or a person who is second in command in the kitchen. Now, as high achieving seniors, you will all be working in the restaurant kitchen this year. Make no mistake, ladies and gentlemen, the restaurant kitchen is MY KITCHEN and nobody else's. BUT... I need some help running MY kitchen, so I will need two sous-chefs to oversee their classmates. Who will they be? Well, that's up to you. Cooking is a competitive field, boys and girls, and becoming one of my sous-chefs is a competitive process."

We all looked around at each other and wondered who would end up barking orders at the rest of us.

"First," Mrs Simpson continued, "you must register to be in competition for the sous-chef positions. You can do that in our online classroom. I do not care how gifted a cook you are, if you do not put yourself in competition for one of these positions, I will not consider you for one. I will not just pluck you out of obscurity and make you one of my number-twos. If you want the job, you have to go for it."

I saw several people already opening their school-supplied computers to sign-on and throw their names into the hat.

"Second, if you are in competition, you will have to pass some cooking challenges - I'm sure that past seniors have told you a few stories about these challenges."

We all chucked at that. Her cooking challenges were legendarily difficult.

"And finally, if you pass the first challenge, you will be put into a Kobayashi Maru situation. Does anyone understand that reference?"

I had no idea what she meant, but a classmate raised his hand and answered. "It's a Star Trek reference, Mrs Simpson. At Star Fleet Academy, there was a no-win computer simulation that Captain Kirk had to go through as part of his officer training and rather than let the computer win, Kirk cheated and hacked the computer so he could win in the no-win situation."

'Exactly," Mrs Simpson said. "So, each sous-chef candidate will face a, maybe not un-winnable, but very difficult situation, and he or she will have to figure out what to do to resolve that situation in a timely and professional manner. Is that clear?"

We all nodded.

"Alright, then," Mrs Simpson nodded, "there's a few minutes before the bell rings. You know where your storage cubbies are... go ahead and make sure you remember your combinations and you can leave anything you brought with you today in those."

The class stood and headed to our changing area. I was one of the last to get near Mrs Simpson's desk. Without looking up, she said, "Brook? How has your day gone so far?"

I stopped and shrugged. "Ok, for the most part, I guess. I had one runin with a girl. She got suspended for swearing at me and threatening me in front of a teacher."

Mrs Simpson nodded and raised her eyebrows. "So, the system has worked, so far."

"I guess," I chuckled and started to walk away.

"I noticed that you didn't immediately sign up for the sous-chef competition," she said, looking at our class' online classroom through her half-oval, reading glasses that sat low on her nose.

I shook my head.

"Why?"

I heaved a big sigh. "I don't know. I guess... with everything going on... I just wanted to keep a low profile for a while."

Mrs Simpson let out a derisive laugh. "The boy who was so quiet that I didn't even know he was a boy for three years shows up for his senior year looking like he is planning on being prom Queen and he says he wants to keep a low profile. Not likely, my friend."

I didn't know what to say, so I just stood there. Mrs Simpson looked at me over her half-glasses and said, "Brook, you and Henry Diaz are the best cooks in the class, and Henry is really locked into the recipes and taste-pallet that his family use at their restaurant. You are creative and subtle. You have a real flare for cooking. You could be and excellent chef someday, but you have always just hidden in the shadows. I was hoping that this new look might signal a change in your personality. Maybe make you a little more outgoing. You're a smart, talented, beautiful young person, Brook, but you need to step up and take charge of what you're going to become. I've heard great reports from Amanda at The Wireworks, but that's dinning room work. If you ever want to run your own kitchen..."

She turned her laptop towards me and waited.

"Well?" she asked. "I'm not going to let you off easy, Brook, but I'm not typing your name in for you either. You have to do that yourself."

I thought about it for a moment. God, did she really think that I cooked as well as Henry Diaz? I thought he was some kind of prodigy. He never made mistakes and seemed to know every technique before it was even taught to us. He had been taught how to cook the way the rest of us were taught to walk and talk - AND Henry spoke English, Spanish and Portuguese fluently! I guess that's how he cooked, too: Fluently.

"Brook?" She waited. "The bell's about to ring."

Oh, what the hell? I stepped forward and typed my name into her computer just as the bell rang.

Mrs Simpson gave me a self-satisfied smile. "Good," she said. "That was the easy part. The hard part is coming, but I wouldn't have encouraged you to sign up if I didn't think you could do it."

I nodded. "Ok. Thank you, Mrs Simpson."

"But Brook," she said as I started to leave, "that's all the help I plan to give you. From here on out, you're on your own."

"Yes, ma'am."

I was smiling as I got into the hallway and headed for the cafeteria.

"Hey," someone said as they hurried up from behind me to catch up.

I turned and saw Henry Diaz jogging up to walk beside me. "Hi?" I said, a little unsure as to why he'd want to talk to me, especially after what I'd experienced with Alex Winter, earlier.

He smiled and nodded. "Ummm... I know this is going to sound weird, but up until today, I kind of thought that you were a guy. I mean... didn't we have PE together for a semester in freshman year?"

I nodded. "I am a guy."

"No shit?" he said, then he laughed at himself. "Oops. Sorry. No kidding? Then why do you look like you do? Is it a bet or a dare or something?"

"No," I shook my head, "I just choose to look like this from now on. Does it bother you?"

He stuck out his bottom lip and thought for a moment. "No. I don't think it has any impact on me at all, actually. I probably had no right to ask. I was just curious and, well... you always seemed so... shy, I guess, and today you look like you kind of... blossomed." He laughed at his own uncomfortable wording.

I was going to thank him, but a boy, who I barely noticed, passing in the opposite direction glanced at me and said, in a flat, angry voice, "Faggot."

Before I even had a moment to let that roll off my back, Henry had reached around and grabbed the guy by the back of his shirt and slammed him, face first, into bank of lockers.

Now, Henry is probably five foot ten or so and very fit. The kid he had grabbed was well over six feet tall and looked pretty ripped. I guessed he was on the football team. With his face pressed against the lockers, I couldn't see who he was.

"What did you say, Gallagher?" Henry asked in a fairly playful, yet intimidating manner.

Oh, great. It was Jack Gallagher. Alex Winter's boyfriend.

"I wasn't talking to you, Diaz," the kid said, his mouth a bit distorted by the pressure of his face being pressed into the locker. "But maybe I should have been if you're hanging out with that... that thing."

Henry let the pressure off the boy for a moment, then slammed him up against the locker again. "I didn't hear the words 'I'm sorry' coming out of your mouth the way I should have, Gallagher. Do you want to try again?"

"Fu.." the boy started to say, but Henry pulled him away from the locker and slammed him against them again.

"Want to try again?"

By now, a crowd was gathering around us. A couple of girls I didn't know pulled me back into the crowd to keep me from being hurt, I guess.

"Alright, alright, what the hell is going on here?" Mr Kemp, the principal, shouted as he pushed through the crowd to get to the center where Henry and had the boy. "Diaz? What's going on here?"

Henry released the boy. "Nothing, Mr Kemp. It's just that Mr Gallagher, here, was pretty rude to one of my classmates and since he used a word that is not only insulting, but, I believe, against the rules laid out in the school's student handbook, I felt obligated to correct him."

"Is that what happened, Gallagher?" Mr Kemp asked.

"No," the boy said, straightening his clothes and hair. "Diaz was walking with that fag got over there," he pointed towards me, "and got pissed off when I called the faggot a faggot. End of story. I never touched anyone."

Mr Kemp looked at Henry and pointed at him, "You," then he pointed at me, "and you stay put. The rest of you get to class. NOW!"

When the crowd had dispersed, he looked at Henry and said, "Mr Diaz, just because you have the highest GPA in your class and will most likely be Valedictorian, that doesn't give you the right to think that you are in any way shape or form in charge of anything at this school. If you have a problem, you talk to me. You do not touch another student."

I could see that Henry had a comeback for that, but Mr Kemp turned to me. "And as for you, your presence here today, dressed the way you are, has already resulted in the suspension of one student who had no disciplinary issues whatsoever until today. If this continues, then you may find yourself back in the local high school before the week's end." He shook his head and looked around. "I will not allow you to upset this entire building just so you can play dress-up."

He started to storm off, but Henry stopped him with, "I didn't think you were that big a coward, Mr Kemp. You disappointed me."

The older man stopped and spun around on his heel. "I beg your pardon? And before you speak again, Diaz, I want you to understand that you are DANGEROUSLY close to being insubordinate, which, as I am sure you are aware since you seem to know the student handbook so well, is a reason for me to have you removed and sent back to your town school."

"I am not being insubordinate, sir. In fact, I am being so respectful of you as to let you know that you made a big mistake here and that you took the coward's way out of that situation."

Mr Kemp took two steps towards Henry and put his hands in his pockets. "Oh? Enlighten me, Diaz. How would a less cowardly man have handled that situation?"

"By punishing the guilty party," Henry shrugged with all the confidence in the world, "instead of threatening the victim," he indicated me, "and her defender," he indicated himself. "A braver man would have realized that Jack Gallagher is not just the best athlete in the school, but he's also a bully and a jackass who needs to be taken down a peg or two before he hurts someone. A braver man would have used this opportunity to have made it clear to Gallagher that HE didn't run the school, because he and his football buddies think they do. Instead, you attacked us. With all due respect, sir... that's all that I'm saying."

I could see that Mr Kemp wanted to explode, but I think he knew that, if he went after Henry, he'd have big fight on his hands and that his opponent, Henry, was a lot smarter than he was. Instead, he grunted and shook his head. "Get to class," he snapped. "Both of you."

Henry turned and headed down the hall, putting his hand on my back as we walked.

"Are you ok?" he asked.

"Me?" I laughed. "I'm fine. How about you?"

He laughed. "My adrenaline is pretty high, but I'm good. Jack Gallagher's a lunkhead and a bully, but he can play sports and his father is as big a bully as his son, so Kemp kowtows to them. He'll never go after him, but at least now he knows that I see him for what he really is."

We were almost to the cafeteria when Brooke burst out the door and came to a skidding stop when she saw me. "Brook!? Are you ok? I just heard them talking about a someone getting picked on by a..." Suddenly, she seemed to notice Henry for the first time and she stopped to look at him.

"I'm fine," I said. "Brooke, this is Henry, my... knight in shining armor, I guess. He saved me from the bully and from the principal. Henry, this is Brooke. My girlfriend."

"No kidding," Henry smiled, shaking Brooke's hand. "Who'd have believed that?"

"What!?" Brooke asked, suddenly defensive, "that Brook was straight just because he dresses the way he does, or that I could fall for a boy like him?"

Henry laughed. "No. Who'd have believed that you two could fall for each other and have the same name? I mean Brooke isn't that common, is it? What are the chances?"

Just then, another girl came out of the cafeteria. "Henry!" she said. "Were you really in a fight?"

Henry laughed. "No. Not really. Lina, these are my friends Brook and Brooke. Ladies, this is my girlfriend, Lina. Oops... I'm sorry. Was 'ladies' the wrong thing to say?"

"It's fine," I smiled.

"Come on," Brooke said, seeing Mr Kemp turning the corner into the hallway behind us, "let's go in and have our lunch before it gets too late to eat."

It turned out that Brooke had made a few friends in her Beauty Academy. She had left her stuff at a table with two other girls, both of whom I recognized, but neither seemed to know me - even after Brooke explained who I was, they didn't seem to have any recollection of ever knowing anyone named Brook Chapin at the school.

Lina and Henry joined us at our table and I found myself in the midst of the largest lunch table crowd I'd ever encountered.

Olive, one of the girls who had made friends with Brooke, asked me a lot of questions about my hair, most of which I was able to answer, but several times I had to defer to Brooke for answers to technical question about my hair color and highlighting.

I saw Henry and Lina in deep conversation about something that resulted in Lina turning to stare at me, before she finally said, "Wait, wait, wait... you're a boy?"

I looked around the table and noticed that no one else seemed surprised by this revelation. So, I nodded.

"Wow," she said, quietly. "I'm sorry, that was probably pretty rude, wasn't it? I guess I just didn't expect it. I mean... come on... look at you. You're a lot cuter than I am."

That wasn't true. Lina was very cute, but she was a bit of an unmade bed - certainly not as bad as I had been the previous year, but she wasn't exactly dressed up for the first day of school.

"What trade are you taking?" Marci, the other girl with Brooke, asked Lina.

'Furniture design and repair," Lina said, which prompted all of the 'beautician girls,' including Brooke, to let out a knowing, and somewhat sympathetic, 'oh,' which did strike me as a bit rude, to tell you the truth.

Lina seemed to sense the slight, too. "Yeah... we get pretty messy, so... you know... no sense in getting dressed up." Then she looked at me. "Actually, most of the GIRLS in Culinary aren't dressed as well as YOU are. You must have made quite a splash."

I shrugged. "Not really."

Henry laughed. "Not really? Kemp said that someone had already been suspended because of you before what I saw."

"What?" Brooke was alarmed.

I shook my head. "No big deal. I'll tell you about it later." Then, in order to change the topic, I asked Henry if he was trying to get one of the sous-chef positions.

"Yeah, of course," he nodded. "Aren't you?"

I nodded. "I am now. I wasn't going to, but Mrs Simpson convinced me to try."

"You should," Henry said, finishing his sandwich. "You're probably the best cook in the class. That porchetta you made for your final project last year was unreal! I've never had anything that good."

"'Porchetta?" Brooke asked. "What's that?"

"It's roast pork," I explained, blushing a bit at the compliment. "It's what I made for dinner a couple of Sundays ago."

Her eyes brightened. "Oh, yeah. That's was good."

"Good?" Henry laughed. "I think you might be spoiled by his cooking. That's some amazing stuff."

"Yeah, well, your paella was pretty amazing, too," I said, sincerely.

He laughed. "Do you have any idea how often I have made that at my parents' restaurant? Like... three times a week since I was eight or nine years old. But I am glad you liked it. People who aren't used to real Spanish paella are always impressed by it, though. You know, my grandparents are from the Valencia area in Spain and they can't believe that people like it so much. They say that when they were growing up, they had it like two or three times a year and didn't love it, but nonSpaniards can't seem to get enough."

I laughed. "Well, I liked it."

A few moments later, the bell sounded and we had to move on to our next classes. Brooke walked with me, concerned that I might run into another problem, but other than a few mumbled insults from passing jerks, nothing happened.

And that's how the rest of the day went, too. No one got aggressive, but there were a few mumbled remarks.

"So, how'd it go?" Dad asked when I got home.

"Fine, actually," I responded, as I sautéed some onions and pancetta in preparation for a bolognese.

"No problems at all?" he persisted.

"Nothing to worry about," I assured him

And so, my first week of senior year went along with a few tough interactions, but, for the most part, nothing too bad.

I passed the cooking challenges for the sous-chef position without a problem. Mostly it was based on dealing with reducing the size of recipes, or finding substitute ingredients when you ran out of something. It was challenging, for sure, but nothing ridiculous. A lot of my classmates didn't pass it, though. At the end of the week, it was only Henry, two other kids and me left in the running.

The weekend at The Wireworks went well, too. Since I was back at school, I started talking to Amanda's father a little more and asking him a lot of questions about how he cooked and how he ran his kitchen. He seemed to be warming up to me a bit and he shared a lot of stories, and even a few knife techniques, with me when he wasn't too busy. I think he found me 'cute' in a way - not in a little girl kind of way, but in a 'isn't it cute that he's so interested in cooking' kind of way.

I got to know a few new people at school, too. Some people in my culinary class were suddenly friendly to me. All of them said that I seemed to have come out of my shell quite a bit, so it seemed like it was easier for them to talk to me than it had been in previous years.

Everyday, I was excited to get dressed, do my hair and makeup and go to school. I loved looking nice and getting compliments. Of course Alex Winter did have her own social circle who seemed to hate me just for being me. I still heard ‘fag,’ and ‘pussy,’ and a few other things in the hallway with regularity, but all in all, I got more support than ridicule. Mr Casey, my homeroom teacher, was like a dotting grandfather or something, always checking in to be sure that I was ok. He was being very sweet and I appreciated it.

In the middle of the day, I’d shed my pretty clothes and don my kitchen scrubs and Crocs to work in the kitchen. I’d tuck my hair up into a hair net, do my kitchen time, then get all pretty again and go meet Brooke and our new friends for lunch.

So, in the middle of week four, we had to do Mrs Simpson’s Kobayashi Maru situation. Each potential sous-chef had to go into the kitchen and face a similar scenario. The thing was, though, we were still doing all the work for our in-school restaurant at the same time and nothing could interrupt that. While the scenarios played out, the other potential sous-chefs had to wait outside of the kitchen so we didn’t know what the glitch was going to be. We drew lots to see what order we’d take go into the kitchen and I ended up being last. For the last ten minutes or so, I was sitting in the outer classroom all by myself until, finally, Mrs Simpson came in and said, "You’re up."

I went into the kitchen and took my place near Mrs Simpson.

"Make sure we have plenty of dinner rolls ready to go," she said calmly. "We have a big crowd."

"Yes, Chef," I responded and I walked to my classmate in charge of that part of the service.

"Hey, Molly," I said, "we have a big crowd. Make sure we have plenty of rolls ready to go, alright?"

"Yes, Chef," she said. Then she looked at me and took a deep breath. "Good luck."

I assumed from that that whatever the glitch was going to be, it was going to be a doozy.

I returned to my post and I checked the final plating of a series of meals and checked the order sheets. "Where’s the lamb?" I called down the line. "We have two orders being held up waiting on lamb."

"Coming now, Chef!" someone called back and came hustling with two plates of the lamb.

I checked them and turned to the computer to enter that the meals were ready for pickup.

"I need four soups, here!" I called down the line. "What’s the hold up?"

"Sorry, Chef," a classmate said, hardly looking up. "I had to get more out of the cooler. Someone went home sick."

Ah! That must be the glitch, I thought. I was about to ask who had to leave and reassign someone to that person’s job, when all of a sudden, to my right and behind me, a huge fireball burst out of the gas grill. Kids screamed and backed away. Some ran for the door, but I ran over and pushed the red ‘In Case of Fire’ button to douse the fire with the chemical foam in the overhead nozzles.

The room got very quiet for a moment and I looked around. "Is everyone alright?" I asked.

Everyone nodded and seemed fine, so I just continued. "Ok, these steaks are trashed and we can’t use this grill until the fire department comes, so Kristensen and Mosley, grab some new steaks and get them started on the range in the prep room. Whoever is on cleanup, mop this area up so no one slips. Fredericks, can you go get one of the people who already did the sous-chef test and ask one of them to come in and help with soup and salad prep, since we’re down a person and need some help? Ok, we’ve still got customers, guys, so let’s get back to work."

"Yes, Chef," my classmates replied as they made their way back to their stations.

I looked at Mrs Simpson and shook my head. "Geez, that was pretty scary. Did you send a fireball into everybody’s scenario?"

She stared at me for a moment, then shook her head. "As a matter of fact, no. Do you know what caused that?"

I shook my head.

"Well, I do. Just before the flames Mosley spilled a bowl of wine sauce into the burners and then tried to put it out with a towel. If you hadn’t hit that button as quickly as you did, he could have been very badly burned. You saved that boy from being hurt, Brook."

I looked at the range and nodded. "So... you did that for each of the sous-chef candidates?"

Mrs Simpson laughed. "Brook, the complication was going to be someone leaving unexpectedly, which you dealt with – perhaps not as I would have, but you dealt with it – and an unhappy customer complaint, which I think I can cancel at this point."

"Wait..." it took a minute for everything to dawn on me. "So... that was a real fire?"

Just then, a fireman came in the back of the kitchen looking around.

"It certainly was," Mrs Simpson said, as she guided me towards the fireman.

"Hi," the man said. "We got an alarm that a fire extinguisher was deployed, but didn’t get a fire alarm. Is everything ok?"

"It is, but only because of the quick thinking of my new sous-chef, here. We could have had a big problem if Brook hadn’t been thinking quick and hit that button. We’ll clean the appliance and get it ready and have you come inspect it later today so we can use it again tomorrow, if that’s ok."

The fireman walked over and looked at the range, made sure the gas was shut off and said, "Ok. Give us a call and I’ll come take a look." Then he looked at me and winked. "Nice work."

When he’d left, I asked, "Did you just say I was your new sous-chef?"

Mrs Simpson chuckled. "Yes, Brook. Come with me."

She led me into the dressing room where Henry and one of the other possible sous-chefs were waiting and asked them to join us. Then she came back into the kitchen and called for everyone’s attention.

"I just want to thank everyone who participated in the sous-chef unit. I am very happy to announce that our new sous-chefs for this year are Henry Diaz and Brook Chapin. I know that you will all work with them as if you were working with me. Thank you, everyone. Now, let’s have a round of applause for Henry and Brook and back to work. We have a lot of hungry people to feed."

Henry shook my hand and we accepted everyone’s brief applause and we all got back to work.

"That’s amazing," Brooke said on the way home, when I told her my news. "Look how far you’ve come in the last few weeks. A job in the best restaurant in the area and now you’re a sous-chef at the school restaurant, too. Congratulations, babe!" She was genuinely excited for me.

"That is really awesome, Brook," Elena said from the backseat, and Melissa agreed. We’d picked them up at their school to take them for ice cream because Melissa had gotten a role in the school’s fall play and Brooke had promised an ice cream as a celebration.

We pulled up to their favorite place, a couple of towns away, Brooke and Mel went to get the treats while El and I went to find a table.

"Hey," she said, with a big smile, when she knew we were alone, "guess what I’m doing Friday night?"

I smiled back. "Do you have a date?"

She giggled like I’d never seen her giggle before. "I do and guess what – she’s a lesbian, too!"

I laughed. "Well, I should hope so. How did you find each other."

Elena looked around. "We’re lab partners in Science and she’s really friendly and always kind of... flirty, I guess. She was always complimenting my clothes and stuff, and then, kind of out of the blue, she told me I was cute and asked me if I dated guys. I said ‘no,’ but I’d be interested in dating the right girl... then she asked if she looked like the right girl and... we’re going out Friday."

I thought it was a really sweet story and I’m sure I was smiling pretty broadly. "Aww, that’s nice, El."

"Yeah, but don’t tell anyone it’s a date, ok? As far as anyone is concerned, I’m just going to a movie with a friend."

"Ok," I smiled, "but you do realize that your sister is dating a gender fluid guy who looks more like her sister than her boyfriend, right? Your family is pretty open minded."

"I know," she nodded, "but you’re still a guy and... Brooke is Brooke. She can do no wrong. I’ll tell them when I’m ready. Here they come, though. Please, don’t say anything."

"Of course not," I assured her and then I looked up and smiled at Brooke and Melissa.

"Alight," Brooke said, handing Elena a cone, "a chocolate chip cookie dough for you," then she held out one to me, "and a vanilla for you." She shook her head. "You know, considering how much you made fun of me for getting a hamburger at fancy restaurant, this place has like a hundred flavors and you got plain vanilla."

"Vanilla isn’t ‘plain,’" I said. "Vanilla is ‘pure.’ I love the subtle taste of vanilla and the better the ice cream, the more flavorful the vanilla." I tasted my children’s-sized cone. "Mmm. This is pretty good. The vanilla is really nice and rich. It would be a shame to ruin that with other, less interesting flavors."

Brooke just shook her head and her sisters giggled.

"Anyway," Brooke said, "congratulations, Melissa. I am sure you are going to be a great Mrs White in your school’s production of ‘Clue.’"

"Hear, hear!" I said holding up my cone like a wine glass. We all tapped our cones together and then enjoyed them together.

As we headed home, Brooke asked if I’d told my dad about my good news.

"I did," I said. "I sent him a text and he sent back a text that said ‘congrats’ during his break."

"That’s great," Brooke smiled and squeezed my hand. "I bet he’ll be happy for you."

We turned onto our street. "I hope so. I know we’ve been through a lot, but we’ve been getting along really well lately, and I want him to be proud of me and what I’m doing at..." that’s when I saw the police car in front of my house. "... shit. What’s going on?"

"Oh, no,"Elena muttered from behind me.

"Maybe we should stop at our house," Melissa said, and it was clear that she was afraid of getting involved in a police issue.

"Like hell," Brooke said, plowing forward and pulling up in front of our house.

Before we were even out of the Jeep, though, Mrs Kerr was hurrying out to us with her arms spread wide to stop us from charging into the house. "Alright, now, everyone stay calm," she said. "Everything is going to be alright."

I was the first out of the Jeep. "What’s going on!?" I couldn’t possibly sound as worried as I felt.

Mrs Kerr hugged me and said, "It’s ok, honey. Your dad... well... he had a run in with someone at work. That’s all."

"That’s all?" I didn’t believe her. "Then... why is he home so early and why are the police here?"

She heaved a big sigh. "Ok, now, just promise me you’ll stay calm before I tell you what happened."

I pulled back from her a bit. "Ok. I’m calm."

She nodded and gathered her words before speaking. "Ok..." She thought a bit more. "... well, apparently... your dad was bragging to everyone about how proud he was of you and how you had won this new position at school..."

"Dad was bragging about... me?" I asked, shocked.

Mrs Kerr nodded. "Of course he was, honey." She smiled and rubbed my arm. "Anyway, he was at the counter inside the lumber yard’s store telling all the women in there about you and there was this man there. His name was Winter..."

"Alex!" I muttered, immediately feeling like something very bad had happened.

"... and I guess that his daughter goes to school with you and you two had had some kind of altercation on the first day of school..."

"Oh, no," I said out loud. "What happened?"

She sighed, again. "Well... from what I understand... this Mr Winter said something that was pretty unpleasant and when your dad told him to shut up... well, things got physical."

"Oh, my God!" I tried to push pass, but Mrs Kerr hugged me, again.

"No, no, honey. Wait until he’s done with the police."

My heart sank. "They’re not going to arrest him, are they?"

She continued to hug me. "I don’t think so. Everyone at the lumberyard said that the other guy said some pretty hateful things and that he threw the first punch, and your dad was protecting himself – and you. The thing is though, Brook..." she looked at me with a lot of sympathy. "Your dad lost his job over this, so... he’s going to be going through a lot for a while."

"What?" I couldn’t believe what she’d said. My dad had worked there since before he and my mother had started dating. The owner and his family were all friends of his. How could they fire him? "But... if everyone says it wasn’t his fault...?"

"I know," she said, rubbing my back, "but their insurance company insists and besides... It doesn’t look good for a retail company to have their customers beaten up by an employee." She gave me a really tight hug. "Don’t worry, though. Things will work out."

Yeah, I was sure that thing would work out just fine. After we lost our house and we were living under a tarp in the woods, things would work out just great!

"God," I said, beginning to shake a bit, "even when I do something good, I mess everything up."

She pushed me back to arms length and looked me in the eyes. "Now, you listen to me. This is not your fault. This was that other guy’s fault. He was being an aggressive jackass and that’s the end of it."

"Except, if I’d just been a normal person, and not who I am, then none of this would have happened."

At that moment, two policemen walked out of my house and one of them motioned to Mrs Kerr to come talk to him.

"Wait here," she told me, firmly. Then she walked over to the policemen and spoke to them quietly, her head nodding from time to time.

When their conversation ended, the policemen walked towards their car and Mrs Kerr walked back to me. "Well," she said, forcing a smile, "everything is ok. They just wanted to talk to your dad. You can go in now, but... remember... your dad is pretty upset." She looked at her daughters and said, "Maybe we should give them a few minutes to themselves, ok?"

Elena and Melissa nodded, but Brooke asked, "He’s not going to get violent with Brook, is he?"

Mrs Kerr shook her head. "No, of course not. He’s much more concerned about disappointing Brook than anything else, right now. He’ll be fine."

Brooke nodded and rubbed my arm. "I’ll be just outside if you need me."

I nodded, then kissed her soft cheek. "Ok. Thanks."

I walked over to the house and up onto the back porch, then opened my back door, feeling like something terrible had happened inside. I wasn’t concerned that my dad would hurt me, but I was concerned about what awaited me inside.

I found dad in the living room. He was sitting in a recliner, but his feet were on the floor, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. When he heard me, he sat up quickly and turned towards me, smiling, but I could see that his eyes were red rimmed and watery.

"Hey! There’s the town’s newest sous-chef!" He forced a smile and reached out a hand to take one of mine. "Congratulations, Chef. I couldn’t be prouder of you."

I pressed my lips into a tight smile. "Thanks, dad. I’m... so sorry."

He gave a dismissive laugh. "Oh... yeah... I messed things up pretty badly, today, I guess." Another laugh, but this one more nervous sounding, came from his throat.

"Dad... this is all my fau..." I never finished my sentence, because he stood up quicker than I’d ever seen him do before, and wrapped me into a tight hug.

"No, Brook, no. This wasn’t your fault. I mean... Damnit, it wasn’t even mine. Hell, I’ve known Jake Winter my whole life. He was a senior when I was a freshman and he was jerk then. When he started in on me I just turned to walk away, but he grabbed me and pushed me up against the counter and started saying... well... he said a lot of pretty nasty things about both of us, Chef. I just pushed him back to get past him and he grabbed a hammer off of the counter and came at me. I only threw one punch and that was just to stop him. Turned out, it laid him out flat and, from what the cops told me, probably broke his jaw. It’s funny how quickly you get fired when you knockout your company’s customers."

I wrapped my arms around him and couldn’t help but sob – not for me, but because I could feel how sad he was. "Dad, I’m so sorry. What are we going to do?"

He held me tighter. "Well, YOU are going to continue to do what you’re doing. Keep achieving and keep being you, no matter what the assholes say or do. As for me..." he sighed, "... I’ll find something. Probably not at a lumberyard, since I’m sure that news of what happened today has already gotten around, but... somewhere."

We hugged for a few more, long moments, until we heard the back door open and Mrs Kerr speak. "Ummm... Vic? I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone here to speak to you."

Dad released me and I looked to the back door where I saw Uncle Mark entering behind Mrs Kerr.

"When the police showed up," Mrs Kerr explained, looking from dad to her brother-in-law, "I called Mark to ask him what we should do. He wasn’t in his office, so I left a message."

Uncle Mark stepped forward and extended his hand to dad. "I was driving back from a meeting when my assistant called and told me that Sue was upset and that the police were here, so I just came this way. I’m sorry I missed the police." Then he gave my cheek a kiss and asked if I was ok. I nodded.

"They were just filling in the blanks on their report," my dad said. "Thanks for coming." He looked around at our modest home and I could feel that my dad was embarrassed for Uncle Mark to be seeing it. "Ummm... hey, can I get you a beer, or some iced tea or something? Maybe we could sit on the porch."

Uncle Mark looked surprised. "You still have beer in the house?"

Dad laughed. "Actually... no. I guess I just said that out of habit. We do have iced tea, though. Maybe some Diet Coke or some ginger ale. Can I get you anything?"

"Ginger ale sounds great," Uncle Mark nodded. "Let’s have a chat."

I volunteered to get the drinks while dad escorted everyone outside. I grabbed a sleeve of red-cups, threw some ice into an ice bucket, then put that as well as a bottle of ginger ale and pitcher of iced tea from the fridge onto a tray and headed for the door. Brooke was on her way in to help me as I reached the exit, and she held the door for me and we went out back to join the adults. Elena and Melissa had already gone home at Mrs Kerr’s instruction.

"...well, since it was this Winter guy’s fault," Uncle Mark was saying, "we could go after the owners of the lumberyard for wrongful termination of your employment. Maybe get your job back, or at least get a settlement of some kind."

Dad shook his head. "No. They’ve been very good to me for twenty years. They had no choice. I can’t go after them."

I began pouring and serving.

"Then we can go after Winter. You said that all of the witnesses will back you up and say he was the aggressor."

Dad shook his head, again. "Jake Winter has never had two pennies to rub together. He’s a bigger drunk than I ever was and he’s bounced from one crappy apartment to another his whole life. It’d be pointless to try to get any money out of him."

Uncle Mark shook his head and sipped his ginger ale. "I gotta tell ya, Vic, it won’t be easy for you to find a job in your field after an incident like this."

"I am aware," dad said, glancing towards me. "I have to find something, though. I can pay this month’s mortgage, but that’s about it. So, tomorrow morning, I’m going everywhere. I don’t care if I end up at McDonalds or Walmart, I need a job."

Uncle Mark nodded and sipped and thought for a few minutes. "You haven’t had a drink since your hearing, right, Vic?"

"Not a drop," dad said, honestly. "To tell you the truth, I’m really glad that I’ve been dry for a while, because when I left the yard today, my first impulse was to drive straight to the Legion Hall to get blitzed, but instead... I came home and thought things through. It’s harder than drinking, but I feel better about myself."

Mrs Kerr put her hand on dad’s arm in support and Uncle Mark nodded. He thought and sipped a few minutes longer, then said, "Tell me, Vic... would you be willing to work as a runner for me?"

Dad seemed surprised. "I guess... but... What does a runner do?"

Uncle Mark sipped a bit more, then spoke. "Vic, a lot of legal papers can’t be faxed of emailed. They need original signatures and they need to be private, so they need to be transported by a human – a runner. Typically, a runner is either a retiree or a person training to be a paralegal. It’s not a job that’ll make you rich, but it’s a job. If you want it, I’ll call my assistant and have her walk you through the paperwork over the phone and you can start tomorrow. What do you say? Want to give it a try?"

Dad looked around at all of us. "Look, Mark, I need the job, but I don’t want you to give it to me as an act of charity. I mean, I’ve never done any work like this before..."

Uncle Mark interrupted. "Vic - it’s taking things from point A to point B occasionally point C as well. I’m not suggesting that this is a career move, but if you want it, the job is yours for as long as you need it – as long as you’re sober and reliable, that is."

Dad looked at Mrs Kerr for advice and she nodded. Then he looked at me. "What do you think, Chef? I’d be in the city all day, forty five minutes away. I probably won’t be home till later."

I shrugged. "Dad, if you want the job, take it. I’m nineteen. I can take care of myself. Besides, the Kerr’s are right next door if I need anything."

Dad nodded and thought for a moment. "Well, ok, Mr Kerr, I guess I will take you up on that offer. I mean, it sure sounds better than facing the winter with no job and only a little oil in the tank."

Uncle Mark stood. "Ok, Vic. Let’s go inside and I’ll call my office manager. She’ll set up everything you need."

So, in the house they went, away from prying ears, I guess.

Mrs Kerr looked at me and I think we both looked a bit relieved. "So, Brook... tell me about this new appointment that you’ve earned."

I told her all about how I’d been named one of the sous-chefs and how excited I was about it. Then we talked a bit about school in general and the little bit of bullying I’d received, but I pointed out that I’d received a lot more support than bullying, and that was a good thing. Then we talked about Brooke’s classes and her new friends, until, after nearly an hour, dad and Uncle Mark came back outside and dad was smiling quite a bit.

"I need to get a move on," Uncle Mark said, kissing Mrs Kerr, then Brooke and then me on the cheek. Then he shook dad’s hand. "Welcome aboard, Vic. I’ll see you in the morning." Then, he flashed his handsome smile and left.

"Everything all set?" Mrs Kerr asked, a big smile on her face.

"Everything’s great," dad said, then he looked at me. "Looks like I’ll be seeing you off in the morning, now, Chef. I’m not going in till eight and I’ll be heading home at four thirty."

"Wow," I chuckled, relieved that dad was happy. "That sounds great, dad."

"And..." Mrs Kerr spoke a little more confidentially, "... they’re taking care of you? Financially, I mean. They’re paying you enough to make it worth your while?"

"Yeah," dad said, with raised eyebrows, as he took a sip of a bottle of root beer. "The way things are working out, they’re paying me pretty much what I was making at the lumber yard, but they’re paying for a bigger part of our health insurance plan, so I will probably end up with a little more in my pocket than I had before." He was about to take another sip, but he stopped. "Oh... AND, if I want to go back to school and get an associates degree, or for training to be a paralegal, something like that, they’ll even pay for that. It seems like a really good job."

"That’s great, Vic," Mrs Kerr smiled and seemed very happy.

"Congratulations, Mr Chapin," Brooke said.

"Yeah, dad," I said, patting his arm, "I’m glad things are working out."

"Me, too, honey," dad said, touching my hand. "I didn’t think things would work out this way, I’ll tell you that."

I smiled, but frankly, I didn’t either. Once again, it had been Uncle Mark to the rescue. Thank goodness.

"I think we’d better go do a little shopping," Mrs Kerr said with a smile. "You can’t be representing Mark’s law firm in jeans and a tee shirt." Then she looked at Brooke. "Can you go get some pizza or something for your sisters?"

Before Brooke could answer, I jumped in. "No pizza. I’ll make them a good meal."

And that’s how we spent the evening. I cooked and served a nice, simple chicken breast dinner to the girls while dad and Mrs Kerr went shopping and had dinner out someplace.

So, the next morning was a bit different for us. I jumped out of bed at five, my usual time, and started getting ready. Then I went out to the kitchen and realized that dad wasn’t even up, yet. So, I made a fruit smoothie for myself and sat at the counter to enjoy it.

This was new. A relaxed morning. I opened my phone and started looking at some gaming sites, but soon found that I was perusing magazine sponsored sites aimed at girls my age. Tips on makeup, hair and skin care, fashion tips, dating tips... all subjects that would have held no interest for me at the end of the last school year, now held my rapt attention.

The dating tips were very interesting, because the articles all seemed to be focused not only on boyfriends, but on girlfriends. Lesbianism was just an everyday thing in these articles. Men’s magazines kept any conversations about gay culture far away from their pages.

Anyway, for obvious reasons, the comments about lesbian love seemed to resonate the most to me, so I kind of went down a rabbit hole of introductory articles about lesbian dating and love making. I know this will probably sound weird to you, but I’d never really thought about myself as a lesbian before – just a straight boy with a female personality. These articles, though, opened my eyes. I really was a very feminine lesbian who just happened to have a penis. Sure, Brooke was dating a boy in a dress and she took care of his needs with hand jobs and the occasional blowjob, but I needed to start thinking more about fulfilling her needs. Till that point, I’d caressed and nibbled her breasts a little, but these articles laid out a whole new world of safe ways I could reciprocate Brooke’s care for my needs.

I was fascinated. So fascinated and so enthralled in my reading that I didn’t even hear dad approaching until he was in the kitchen with me, wearing a clean pair of dress pants, a handsome, well fitted button down shirt with a tasteful, narrow stripe in it and subdued, dark blue tie hung loosely and untied around his neck.

Not only was he well dressed, he was well shaved and his short hair had been brushed – I didn’t even know he owned a hair brush.

"Holy smokes," I said, looking up at him, "you look great!"

"Yeah?" he asked, uncertainly. "It feels odd, to tell you the truth. I feel like I’m going to a funeral or something."

I chuckled at that. "Well, I think you look very handsome."

He smiled. "Ok. I’ll accept that. Hey – do you know how to tie a nice knot in a neck tie? I only know the knot I learned as a kid and it looks really sloppy with this tie."

"I don’t," I smiled, "but unlike you, I know that YouTube has a tutorial for everything." I searched my phone for a moment, then pushed ‘play’ on a YouTube video that showed me how to tie a ‘double Windsor’ knot that looked nice. I watched it again, while dad drank a cup of orange juice, then I proceeded to tie my dad’s tie.

It was an oddly intimate moment for dad and me. I could smell his shaving cream and toothpaste and he even commented on how my shampoo smelled like vanilla.

"That’s not my shampoo," I smiled as I worked on his tie. "That’s hair perfume."

"Hair perfume?" he asked, a little confused. "Is that different than regular perfume."

"Of course," I tsked at him. "I wear lavender perfume on my body and vanilla in my hair. They compliment each other."

That made him smile and shake his head a bit. "You know, Brook," he said – using my name more commonly now when he was talking to his ‘daughter’ instead of his son, "I guess I always knew you were... different from the other boys your age. I guess I should have been more aware that... well... that you weren’t really a boy, I guess."

"Hey," I said, smoothing out his now nicely tied tie, "I’m still a boy where it counts and I always will be." I inspected my work. "There." I stood on top toe and kissed his cheek. "Now you look even more handsome. Like a move star of something."

He laughed at that. "Maybe a movie extra."

I smiled at him. He looked as different from who he was a few months ago as I did – Heck, for him it was just a few hours ago. I couldn’t help but be proud of him.

"Sit down, dad," I said gently. "I’ll make you an omelette for breakfast. We have plenty of time."

"Thanks, honey," he smiled. "Oh – just ham and cheese this morning, though. I don’t want my breath to smell of peppers and onions on my first day."

Wow. I’d never seen my dad like this. So nervous and excited. And happy.

I served him an omelette with a little fruit and toast on the side, as well as a mug of coffee and a small glass of tomato juice just as Brooke walked in the backdoor.

"Morning, baby," she smiled at me and kissed my cheek before noticing my dad. "Oh, hi, Mr Chapin. Hey, looking pretty spiffy this morning."

He smiled and nodded a ‘thank you’ to Brooke. Despite everything good that had happened since dad had beaten me up, there was still some space and coolness between him and Brooke. Maybe there always would be.

We should get going, babe," Brooke said to me. "I have a meeting with the homecoming committee before homeroom, remember?"

"Yep," I said, grabbing my purse and my backpack that carried my books and school computer.

I stopped and kissed dad, again. "Good luck on your first day, dad."

"Thanks, sweetheart," he smiled. Then he shocked me when he stopped me by speaking again. "Brook... you look... beautiful... I just wanted you to know that."

I looked down at the pink and white dress I was wearing and then back at my dad. "Thanks dad. I got this at Savers. You know? That second hand place?"

He shook his head. "No, not the dress. The dress is very pretty, but... I mean you. YOU look beautiful. I just... I just wanted you to know that."

I walked back to where he was seated and hugged him around the neck. "Thanks, dad. That means a lot to me," I said as I continued to hug him.

"And your hair smells great," he laughed as I let him go and stood straight again.

I laughed at that, too and headed for the door.

"I can get you some hair perfume of your own, if you’d like some," Brooke teased as I headed for the door. "Any scent you’d like. Apple, lemon, strawberry, sandalwood, rose, lilac, violets... anything."

"I’m good," dad laughed as I dragged Brooke out the door. She still didn’t like him very much, but at least they’d had two polite interactions that morning. I was writing that up as a win.

School seemed to go great for the next few weeks. I loved being a souschef and kind of running the kitchen with Henry. We made a great team, too. I knew what I wanted and how to explain that to my classmates. So did Henry, but Henry was also a tall, imposing guy and having him as my partner made things a lot easier in the kitchen.

As things worked out, dad was getting home not long after I did everyday, which was great. His new job was less exhausting than the physical demands of the lumberyard, so he had more energy in the evenings. He and Mrs Kerr took to taking walks after supper and even going out more frequently, which suited Brooke and me just fine.

One night, we found that we were alone – actually alone – for several hours. Mrs Kerr and dad had gone to see a movie, Melissa had a rehearsal at school until nine and Elena was at her girlfriend’s house until we picked her up on the way to get Mel. So three solid ours of Brooke and Brook time, and after reading all of those articles, I knew how I wanted to spend it.

It had gotten a little cooler by this point and I had bought myself this dark blue, flowered peasant dress that I loved and I knew Brooke loved too. It was very loose fitting, had a modest ‘V’ neck and sleeves that blossomed into big puffs at the elastic cuffs. The hem of the skirt was kind of short, ending just past the place where my fingertips touched my thighs, but I liked that it showed a lot of leg and I knew that Brooke liked that, too, It was a really cute dress and I knew I looked cute in it.

So, I wore that to school that day and I knew that it got Brooke a little hot and bothered to see me in it. That was, after all, kind of my point in wearing it.

I kept talking about how much homework I had to get done that evening, so Brooke thought that we’d be buried in books the whole time we were alone together. So, we dropped off Elena on the way home and then went to Brooke’s big, empty house to do our homework.

Brook was wearing these tight, tight jeans that hugged every amazing curve of her gorgeous body and a tight fitting, black top, with an unbuttoned flannel, lumberjack shirt hanging loose on top of that. Even dressed casually – even somewhat masculinely – Brooke still exuded the sexiest female vibe imaginable.

Anyway, we got to their place and she turned on the TV, put her backpack on the coffee table and asked what I’d like to snack on.

"You," I said, with a smile. I knew it sounded silly, but I’d read so much about pleasing my lesbian lover and how two women made love to each other that I didn’t care. I knew I looked sexy and I knew what I wanted.

"I beg your pardon?" She laughed at me. But when she turned and looked at me, she knew that I was serious.

I knelt in front of her and reached up to start undoing the buttons that held her button-fly jeans closed. I kissed the buttons as I worked them through the buttonholes and looked up past her beautiful bust to make eye contact with Brooke.

She petted my soft, sweet smelling hair. "Baby... are you sure you’re ready for this?"

I nodded and continued to kiss and unbutton her jeans.

Finally unbuttoned, I pulled her jeans down, revealing pretty, silk and lace panties. They could not have been prettier, and the fact that I was wearing a nearly identical pair made them even more beautiful to me. I lowered the jeans to her ankles and carefully pulled them, one leg at a time, past the cowgirl boots she was wearing. The boots were brown with pink roses on them and a chunky two inch heal that made Brooke’s legs and bottom look amazing. I didn’t want her to take them off.

Next, I kissed the beautiful lace panel on the front of my love’s panties and I felt her shiver. The more I kissed, the more she shivered and gasped. For the very first time in our relationship, I felt like I was controlling the tempo of an intimate moment.

"Remember how you once told me that all girls should put their boyfriends into pretty dresses?" I asked between kisses on her panties.

"I do," she smiled down at me, towering over me.

"Do you think that they’d like to have their boyfriends kneeling before them like this?"

"I don’t know," she gasped as my kisses went lower. "Some girls are funny about things like this."

"How about you?" I asked, as my tongue creeped under the soft elastic of a leg hole and came closer to her womanhood. "Do you want your boyfriend to give you a blowjob for a change?"

"Yes, baby," she said, caressing my hair, "but only if you’re ready to do it, my pretty little thing. Only if you’re ready."

I reached up and gently lowered her panties, revealing a nicely trimmed pubic area. It was feminine and sculpted and smelled just a little musky from her excitement, but it was a wonderful musky smell because it was Brooke.

I moved gently, at first. More kisses and just a few little licks near her womanhood. Then I got more courageous and when my tongue first brushed across the little nub at the top of her opening, she gasped in a way that let me know that this was a first for her as well.

When, after a good long while, I was brave enough to have my tongue explore her opening, I felt Brooke tighten up and her legs spread slightly wider to allow me more access.

"Oh... oh, baby," she panted. "Oh, baby, be a good girl and keep doing that. Oh!!!"

She grabbed my head and rocked hard against it as she orgasmed. Now, I’m sure that this was not her first orgasm, I knew Brooke far too well to think that she wasn’t taking care of her own needs, but I think this was the first time anyone else had ever brought her this far and I could tell she liked it a lot.

We went on like this for another ten or fifteen minutes until Brooke couldn’t take any more. Finally, she pushed my head away and stepped back.

"Oh, my God, baby, I need to stop," she gasped as she pulled her panties back up. "Where did you learn to do all that? I mean... should I be worried?" She laughed a bit at that last part.

"Not unless you’re jealous of the links in the ‘How To Keep Your Partner Happy’ articles in those online girls’ magazines you’ve got me hooked on," I giggled, rising from my knees with a hand from Brooke.

She put her arms around me and hugged me. She kissed my hair and then laid her cheek on my head. "God, I guess I never read those links. I think I may have missed out on some things."

Her hands wandered down to my bottom where she fondled my cheeks a bit, feeling the soft cotton of my loose dress against the silky smoothness of my silk and lace panties beneath. "Oh, I lucked out when we moved in next door to you, my beautiful love," she whispered, hugged harder and swayed me while I nestled into her softness and inhaled her and tasted her and loved her.

I felt her start to drop to her knees, but I stopped her. "No. I don’t want you on your knees," I said, with a passionate kiss to her lips.

She smiled down at me and led me to the couch where she gently laid me down and her hand went under the hem of my dress and began exploring the front of my panties, which, since I was tucked, was just as flat and smooth as the front of her panties had been. She caressed that area as she kissed my neck and nibbled my ears.

"You’re the best girlfriend in the world," she whispered to me.

"I’m trying to be," I smiled as I squirmed beneath her.

She gently folded the front of my dress up and began kissing the lace on my panties in imitation of how I’d kissed hers a few minutes earlier.

"Such a sweet," kiss, "sweet," kiss, "sweet," kiss, "little thing you can be. So pretty," kiss, "and you smell so nice, too."

Then she looked at me with mischievous eyes. "I’ll be right back," she announced and ran away.

"Where are you going?" I called after her, but she didn’t respond. She just ran up the stairs and moments later ran back down.

"Stand up for a second," she instructed me, so I did. She put a pillow in the middle of the couch, then had me lay back down, but this time on my stomach. I did so, but with caution.

"Why?" I asked, as I took my position.

"Just trust me," she said, with that same grin.

When I settled down, my bottom was raised a bit by the pillow and I felt Brooke raise the back of my dress and fold it neatly above my lower back. Then she ran her hands over my silk covered butt cheeks.

"You know, for a boy, you really do have a nice bottom," she said. Then she bent low and gave me some nibbles through the material.

Then she pulled the material back a bit and I felt her rubbing some oil on me. It felt warm and she massaged me with the oil, gradually finding her way to my rear opening.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I’ve been doing some reading, too," she whispered and she slipped one oily finger into me, causing me to gasp and tighten a bit. "Oh, come on," she giggled. "Just relax and let me take care of you. I promise you’ll enjoy yourself."

Then I felt her fingers creeping deeper into me – first one, then two, then three slippery fingers that brought new, strange sensations.

"That’s it," she whispered from behind me. "Just relax and enjoy it. It feels nice, doesn’t it. So nice." She kept cooing like that as she teased me from behind.

Then I felt it. Something foreign and... artificial... entering me. It was at least as thick as her three fingers had been and it was longer, too – much longer.

I tried to ask what she was doing, but all that came out of my mouth was, "...aaa..."

"I know," Brooke cooed. "Nice, right?"

Actually, it hurt like hell for a moment and then... then... then it felt... amazing. I felt as if I was floating. Something deep inside me was being tickled or stroked or something and I began to wiggle to continue the stimulation and that’s when she pushed a button on whatever she’d inserted into me and it began to vibrate.

It was the most astounding feeling I’d ever felt and I clenched every muscle in my lower abdomen to grasp at the feeling, but my brain went into over load and I began to thrust back into the feeling until I felt an orgasm building deep within myself. It was like nothing I’d ever felt before and I whimpered as I thrust this way and that, searching for any way to satisfy my need for fulfillment – and when it came, it came in a gushing torrent of tingles and shivers. I must have looked like I was having a seizure, but I was feeling a sense of excitement like I’d never felt before and I froze, clenched and rode my way through it.

"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God," I muttered as my climax came and passed and I was able to breath again.

Brooke stopped the vibrator and slowly, gently slid the device from my anus, leaving me feeling oddly empty and deflated.

"Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God," I continued to sputter as I felt it leaving me.

I looked at Brooke who asked, "Are you ok?"

I struggled for breath. "I think so... what was that?"

She smiled and showed me a wand, about a foot long, with what looked like a little, bent finger near one end. The wand was shaped a bit like a thin penis and was covered in neon pink silicon, probably for easily cleaning, but the color definitely gave it a feminine look.

"It’s my rabbit," Brooke said. "It’s, you know, a vibrator." She looked at me and smiled. "Did you like it?"

I couldn’t very well lie after what had just happened. "It was... amazing," I smiled, "but I may have just ruined my panties, my dress and the couch."

"Yeah," Brooke snickered. "I thought the same thing." She wiped my bottom with some tissues and pulled my panties back up. "Come on. Stand up and let’s see how bad it is."

I carefully knelt up, expecting to see a huge stain, but there was none. My dress was dry, too. So was the front of my panties, but of course, I had been tucked. So I checked my penis and I was shocked to find that, with the exception of some pre-cum on the tip of my organ, I hadn’t ejaculated anything. This had been a whole different kind of orgasm for me and it was amazing.

And it was only the first time we’d done it that way. There were a lot more online articles to read.
 
 
To Be Continued...

A Boy Called Brook: Autumn 3 by Clara Copyright© 2022, 2024 Clara Schumann Brook finds that the majority of his classmates barely take notice of his decision to present as a girl, but there are still those who will pick on him just to feel superior. A surprise visitor shows up at work one night and creates some conflicts for Brook. He needs his dad's advice.

As October progressed, Brooke and I were instructed to change our work uniforms for the new season. For fall, we put away our black dresses and wore white blouses, very short, black skirts, black tights and black shoes - just like the waitresses did for that season. It was a little more formal and, according to Amanda, more in keeping with the fall aesthetic they wanted for the season.

It was fine, but I have to admit that I was not a big fan of tights at first. As the season progressed and the temperatures dropped, though, I began to appreciate the snug warmth they provided.

At school, I was still loving being a sous-chef, but Brooke was getting very involved in being a part of the Homecoming Dance Committee. Apparently, homecoming had been a much bigger event at her former school and she had infected a good chunk of the school with 'homecoming dance fever.' She had elevated the typical annual dance from a kind of dressed up affair in the gym to nearly the level of a prom. Instead of a dance in the gym with a DJ, she had arranged for the dance to be at a local, public country club with a sit down meal and a band, and for everyone to come in semi-formal or formal attire. She was incredibly excited about it, which was great, and I was helping as much as I could. I worked the ticket desk with her and her friends during lunches and I helped her make banners to hang in the halls to advertise the event.

By ten days before the homecoming game, over four hundred kids were coming and we were headed to the city to go dress shopping for both of us. Brooke was easy. Everything she tried on looked amazing. She finally settled on a deep red, mermaid style dress that hugged every curve of her body and made her look like a movie star.

I had settled on a simple, pale blue dress that showed some shoulder and arms and a lot of leg and I was just headed into the changing room to change back into my own dress when a saleswomen said, "That color is beautiful on you. You know, we have a very pretty gown in that color that was ordered and never picked up. I believe it's selling at seventy nine percent off, if you'd like to try it on."

"A gown?" I asked.

"Is it something very fussy?" Brooke asked. "Brook hasn't had a lot of experience with gowns. We don't want the night to be a nightmare of dealing with..."

She stopped speaking because the saleswoman held out a pale blue gown that looked like it had been made for a fairytale princess. There was a corset-like bodice that was beaded with silvery-white beads that formed an almost feather-like pattern around the bust. It was designed to sit off the shoulder and was sleeveless, but had two sashes that would sit across each upper arm. Below the bodice, it exploded into a dream of blue tulle with beaded, lace, rose appliqués about the skirt. The bodice was as tiny and delicate as the skirt was massive and elegant.

"The bodice has a mesh corset sewn into it for support, and of course it has a built in bra. It’s one of the most beautiful gowns I’ve ever seen and it’s been sitting here, unused for a year."

"It’s gorgeous," Brooke said in a shocked whisper. "You have to try it on, babe."

I let out a disbelieving laugh. "Yeah, right. Like I could afford this."

"You said it was heavily discounted, right?" Brooke asked the saleswoman.

"Seventy nine percent off," the woman replied.

"So... how much?"

The saleswoman grinned. "One hundred and eight three dollars."

Brooke practically snatched the gown from the woman and dragged me into the dressing room. She tore the dress I was wearing off of me and spread the gown on the floor for me to step into. I did and she pulled it up and buttoned the back.

"Hold the front," she said. "I don’t know how to lace this."

She called the saleswoman in and she gave Brooke a primer on the proper way to lace and tighten the bodice. When she was done, a part of my dress felt very, very tight and the rest didn’t touch me at all.

"Step out here," the saleswoman instructed, as she guided me through the door. The skirt was so wide that I needed help to get it through the doorway.

"Oh, babe," Brooke said, shaking her head. "This is it. This is YOUR dress. Babe... you HAVE to wear this."

"Of course, you wouldn’t wear a bra with this," the saleswoman explained, running a finger along one of my bra straps.

"Yeah... about that..." I whispered to Brooke.

"Not a problem," she replied, not in a whisper.

"Oh, are we a little self-conscious about our size?" the saleswoman asked in a voice that sounded more like a sympathetic kindergarten teacher than person talking to a nineteen year old.

"A little," Brooke smiled back at her, also behaving as if I was a child.

"Well, don’t worry, dear," the saleswoman said. There’s lots of solutions. The dress’ corset will give you some cleavage, but you can increase your size with a little foam in the bottom of the dress’ bra cups, or even an adhesive bra."

"An adhesive bra?" I asked, shocked to hear that term.

"Yes," she said, surprised that I had never heard of the item. "They are individual cups made of a firmer material. You glue them on here," she ran her fingers along the outside of my padded-bra-breasts, "and then attach the claps between the two cups and it lifts and presses your breasts together creating cleavage. It’s a little trick for girls to know and boys to marvel at."

As I tried to process this devious way of creating alluring breasts, Brooke asked, "Do you like the dress, babe?"

"Can I see it in the mirror?" I asked, and I think that it was the first time that Brooke realized I hadn’t actually seen myself. So, she led me to the three panel mirror and let me see myself in the dress.

Or rather, the dress with me within it – because the dress was much bigger and much more impressive than I was. Man... well, that was probably not the correct word to express my surprise. ‘Boy’ didn’t do it any better. Regardless – without wearing any special makeup or having my hair done, the dress still made me look like a princess. I looked at the beautiful garment in the mirror and gasped, "Wow," I whispered as I ran my hands along the beaded lace on the bodice, then down onto the wide tulle skirt. "Wow," I whispered, again.

"I agree," Brooke grinned over my shoulder. "So? Is this the dress?"

"This is definitely the dress that will give my dad a heart attack, that’s for sure," I said, shaking my head.

Brooke shrugged. "He seems to be getting with the program recently. I think he’ll like it."

I swayed and felt the weight of the skirt move. "Yeah, well... this is a lot to lay on him, but... it is very pretty."

"Pretty?" The saleswoman sounded shocked. "Elegant, maybe, or regal, or... gorgeous, but just pretty? Hardly."

She was being pompous and it made me giggle. I asked Brooke, "What do you think?"

"I think you’d be crazy to wear anything else to homecoming. This dress looks like it was made for you."

I sighed. "I’ll need shoes and one of those bras, I guess..."

Brooke’s smile widened when she realized I was going to wear that frothy, soft, delicate, feminine confection to homecoming. "You are going to be the prettiest boy at homecoming," she whispered into my ear and giggled.

"That is probably true," I smirked.

Obviously, we bought the dress and, since I got it so cheaply, we also picked up a nice pair of satin pumps to match. We left those at the store, though, to be dyed to match the dress and to be picked up in two days. Who knew that shoes could be dyed to match your clothes!? I’d never heard of that before.

All of a sudden, I was excited about homecoming, too.

A few days later, in Mr Casey’s English class, we were working in groups of five students each and I ended up in a group with Alex Winter. We’d done a good job of avoiding each other, and I’m sure that Mr Casey had no idea that we’d had an altercation – let alone what had happened between our fathers – so I tried my best to not appear uncomfortable.

The purpose of the groups was for each group to focus on one aspect of the story we’d just read. The leader of our group was a girl I didn’t know well named Gwen. She had dark skin and naturally tightly curled hair that she kept cut very short, which seemed appropriate for someone who was in the welding tract at the school.

"Alright, let’s look at the motives of Atticus Finch," Gwen said, focusing on the matter at hand. "Is he just doing what’s right or is this some sort of a ‘white savior’ thing? That ‘white man’s burden’ thing, I think they called it," she said. Then she looked at the kid to her left. "Fred-O"

Fred Ortiz was a quiet boy who was a gifted woodworker, but not the best student. "Geez, Gwen, I don’t know," he shrugged, embarrassed. "I mean, Atticus is fighting, like, the whole town. He must believe he’s fighting for what’s right, right? I mean, look at how..."

While Fred had been talking, Alex had been ‘whispering’ loudly to the girl next to her, but now her volume had risen to the point that it was becoming impossible for us to hear the soft spoken Fred Ortiz speak.

"... and there he was, walking around in his pretty little dress with his dyke-y girlfriend, proud as can be, parading through the mall in front of everyone, carrying a garment bag with a homecoming dress in it. I mean, God, what a dickless little faggot, right? I bet he’s got a bigger pussy that she does."

"Hey!" Gwen snapped, sharply, at Alex. "Do have anything to say about the story, Alex?"

"Oh, I’ve got plenty to say," Alex looked at me and sneered, "and I could tell you a heck of a story."

Gwen shook her head. "Knock it off, Alex. Fred-O, I get what you’re saying. Thanks. Brook, what do you have to say?"

I was about to speak, but Alex jumped in and once again spoke to her neighbor, "Oh, I’m sure that he’d have a lot to say if he’d just get his girlfriend’s cock out of his mouth. Actually, I heard that he’s sucking the cock of that Spanish kid who’s running the kitchen with him when they take inventory in the walk-in refrigerator."

I saw red before my eyes and I was about to attack that obnoxious jerk, but Fred Ortiz, who I barely knew, put his arm around my shoulders and held me in my chair, close to him. "Don’t." He whispered. "If you let her get to you, you’ll get suspended and miss homecoming. Talk to Mr Casey."

"What the fuck is wrong with you Alex?" Gwen asked while Fred-O was talking to me. "Why can’t you mind your own fucking business and just do the classwork like the rest of us."

"Because I’m distracted by the fact that there’s a boy parading his pansy ass around in dresses and panties instead of behaving like a fucking man," Alex spat, looking at me with contempt.

"Oh, lord," Bill, the fifth member of our circle said, shaking his head. "Knock it off, Alex. We all know you’re just jealous because Brook is prettier than you are."

That made Gwen snicker, but it ignited Alex’s fury. "What the fuck did you say to me, you fucking asshole? You have the hots for him, don’t you? You’re as big a faggot as he is. Aren’t you?"

"And just what is all of this about?" Mr Casey asked as he arrived, obviously concerned by the tone and crassness of the language.

Alex sat back, crossed her arms and legs and looked away from everyone.

"Well?" Mr Casey asked.

"Well, Mr Casey," Gwen said, with a very mature sound to her voice, "the fact is that Alex is being very rude to another member of our group and I’m not sure how productive we can be with her in our circle."

"Is that so?" Mr Casey asked. "Alex, go join Marie’s group, please, and behave yourself or I’ll send you to the office. The rest of you... Atticus Finch – motivations – please."

"Yes, sir," we all mumbled, as Alex grabbed her purse and made a show of moving to another group.

"Jeannie?" Gwen asked the girl who’d been sitting next to Alex.

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to leave too?"

"Me? What did I do?" Jeannie asked, shocked to be accused of something. "I didn’t say a word."

"You didn’t tell Alex to knock it off like you should have," Gwen said.

Jeannie looked at the rest of the group and suddenly looked very sheepish. "Oh." Then she looked at me. "Sorry, Brook. I guess I should have, huh? You know I have no problem with you dressing up, right?"

"I’m not dressing up, Jeannie," I said. "I’m just being me."

"Yeah," she nodded. "That’s what I mean. I have no problem with it. Honest."

"Ok." I nodded.

"Alright then," Gwen nodded. "Back to the story. Jeannie? What do you think about Atticus’ motives?"

I didn’t hear a lot of what was being said. I just kept thinking that there was still like another thirty weeks of school to go and that meant another thirty weeks of Alex Winter in my life. That was a lot. I needed to be able to deal with her and her cronies – and the people like Jeannie who just let her be a bully without questioning her.

I was shocked when I came home one day and found my father with a laptop computer opened on the dining room table. He almost seemed embarrassed when I asked if he’d bought it for any particular reason.

"Actually, yeah," said, blushing a bit. "I’m taking an online class. The firm will pay for me to take classes to work in the law field and I thought I might give paralegal classes a try. Who knows. Maybe I’ll be a better student this time. God knows I couldn’t be any worse." He laughed at the last part.

"That’s awesome, dad!" I said, giving him a hug. "Are you starting in the winter semester?"

"I am starting the live classes then, yeah, but I’m taking this online class to prepare for it. I have to read the provided articles and answer questions. If I end up with a score of eighty-five or higher, I pass. Any lower and I can take it again."

"Wow, dad," said standing beside him, "I am really impressed. Look at the two of us. We’re entirely different people than we were last spring."

He nodded. "Yeah. It is amazing. Now, if you don’t mind, I should probably try to answer these questions before I forget everything that I read. This is the first night. I’m not sure how good a student I actually am."

I kissed his head. "You’ll do great. If I can help at all, just let me know." I rubbed his back and headed to my room to change, prouder of my dad than I’d ever been.

Working in the kitchen at school had become a real joy for me. Henry and I were becoming a really tight team. We worked off of each other’s strengths and, for the most part, we seemed to have a pretty happy kitchen staff. The thing was, though, Alex began spreading this rumor about Henry and me doing things – sexual things – in the coolers and stuff and, of course, the rumors got back to the principal, and guess who he believed. Me? No. Henry? No. Our kitchen staff? No. Mrs Simpson? No. Alex and her friends? Of course.

"I know it’s all just nonsense," Mrs Simpson said to both of us one morning, "but Mr Kemp spoke to me about it, so I have no choice but to talk to you two about it. You understand that I need to be careful, right? So... so do you. Any appearance of impropriety and it could be all of our butts in sling. Are we all on the same page?"

"Yes, chef," we both replied.

"Good," she nodded. "Then both of you get your butts in there and get to work."

"Yes, chef," we said and headed back into the kitchen.

Before we got in with the rest of our classmates, I stopped and said, "Look, Henry... I’m sorry about all of this."

He blinked at me. "Why? You didn’t do anything."

"Well... I did start living this way, so... I guess that made it possible for Alex to stir all of this up. I never meant for this to splash all over you."

He chuckled. "Don’t be stupid. I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself. Alex Winter and her friends are jerks. They don’t scare me."

I nodded. "Yeah, but... I’m still sorry about how..."

"Hey, Brook," Henry stopped me. "Look. You’re my friend. Alex Winter is an ass-hat. No apologies are necessary. End of story. Ok?"

Huh... yeah... he was my friend, wasn’t he? I actually had real friends! "Ok, Henry. Thanks."

He winked at me. "Let’s get to work."

We worked really hard in the kitchen everyday and I think we both were very proud of the work we did. Our team all seemed proud, too. If there was one thing I’d learned from working at The Wireworks, it was that if you felt like a part of a team then you were happy when your team succeeded.

Speaking of working at The Wireworks, the night before homecoming, Brooke and I were working and it was an unusually busy night, even for a Friday. Brooke was working the reception desk and I was seating customers for the first half of the evening and we planned to switch later so that we each shared the running around.

I was returning to the reception desk from seating a couple when I saw Mr Davies wave as he headed into the bar. I waved back and continued on my way, but Mr Davies gave me an odd smile and seemed to watch me as I passed. That’s was weird.

When I reached the reception desk, Brooke was speaking to a customer and looked uncharacteristically flustered. When I stepped behind the desk, Brooke looked concerned.

"Oh, so here she is," the customer said and I smiled and looked up to make eye contact with her.

"Good evening," I said. Then I looked at Brooke. "How many?"

"Umm," Brooke muttered and looked from me to the customer.

I followed her gaze and I immediately knew that something was amiss. I knew this woman, but... I didn’t.

"Oh, come on," the customer said, "don’t tell me you don’t recognize your own mother, Brook."

"I... I..." I sputtered.

"Umm..." Brooke interrupted. "Maybe you should take a break, babe. It’s kind of busy. Lots of people around."

I looked at the people waiting behind my mother. "Umm... no... no... Look... Mrs Chapin..."

"Ahern," my mother interrupted me. "You can call me Bev, actually. That is, if mom is uncomfortable at first."

I felt a strange mixture of fascination and anger sweep across me. "Ok... Look... Ms Ahern... it is very busy and I am working, so... if you don’t mind... would you like to be seated, or would you like to leave?"

Now, I was pretty young when my mother left, but I don’t remember her being quite as smug as she was that night. When she heard my statement, a very superior grin crept across her face and her eyelids closed about halfway as she surveyed the people in the waiting area with cold, ugly contempt.

"I’ll tell you what, ‘son,’" she said to me. "I’ll go have dinner and some drinks in the bar where I’ll be for the rest of the night. So, when you get a break, or when you end your shift... come see me. I’m not leaving."

When she turned to leave, she eyed the couple behind her, both of whom were a bit overweight, with such contempt that I could tell it made them uncomfortable, so I needed to make it up to them.

"Hi, good evening," I smiled at them. "I apologize for that woman. I think she’s been drinking. How can I help you this evening?"

I was able to get my evening back on track, but the specter of my long lost mother was ever present. I couldn’t help but glance into the bar every time I passed and there she was. Usually with Mr Davies, but frequently chatting with some of our other regulars. A few times I even heard her telling people that she was my mother. I don’t know if she mentioned that I was her son or not, but I definitely heard her comparing my looks to her – and that was something that I couldn’t help but doing, as well.

I looked a little like my dad – just a little – and my dad only kept two pictures of my mother in the house. One of my mom and me on the beach at a pond and one of my mom holding me in her hospital bed a few minutes after I was born. In one picture she was squinting into the sun and in the other she was red and sweaty from having just giving birth, so the pictures aren’t what you’d call ‘flattering’ pictures of her.

I was just a kid when she left us, so I wasn’t really old enough to make a real decision about her beauty.

But now that I saw her in person, there was no denying that she was a good looking woman and that I really did look an awful lot like her. I don’t mean for that to sound egotistical or anything. I just mean that when Brooke and I were having breakfast with Mr Davies and Ms Caulfield that morning and Ms Caulfield said I looked just like my mother, she was right. I really did.

As our eleven o’clock closing time was approaching, Mr Davies came by the reception area where Brooke and I were removing that evening’s ‘specials’ inserts from the menus, as he always did, to say his usual good nights to Brooke and me, but this night he had a pretty self-satisfied grin on his face.

"Well, ladies," he grinned, "another night in the books, huh?" Those were his usual departing words, but on this night he stopped and waited a moment before he said. "So... did I surprise you, or what?"

"Yeah, you surprised me, alright," I huffed.

That seemed to throw him off a bit. "Wait a minute. Are you upset that your mom is here to see you?"

I glanced at him, but went back to pulling out the menu inserts.

"Oh, come on," he laughed. "She’s your mom. Every girl wants a relationship with her mom, right?"

I stopped and looked at this man who’d been pretty nice to Brooke and me over the last couple of months. "Mr Davies... I don’t even know that woman and... I work here. This is NOT the appropriate place for her to have confronted me and..." I looked around, "... she must have told you by now... I am not a girl... and even if I was, she’s no more my MOM than anyone else in this building. As a matter of fact, she’s worse. She left me. No one else here ever did that. Why should I care that she’s here at all?"

"Because I came back," a voice came from behind me. I turned and saw my estranged mother standing there, not looking at all upset by what I’d said. "Like the prodigal son, I came back, Brook, and I hoped that we might be able to start over. Tell you my side of the story. And for the record, I left your father, not you."

I sighed. "Well, the result was the same, wasn’t it?"

"Is everything ok here?" Amanda said, arriving at the reception area just as a part of doing her rounds.

I looked at my mother, praying she’d just leave, but instead, she extended her hand to Amanda and said, "Everything is just fine, dear. I understand that this is your restaurant."

"Yes," Amanda smiled. "My father and I run it."

"It’s charming," my mother schmoozed, "just charming."

"Well, thank you," Amanda nodded.

"And I am so happy that my son, Brook, has been able to become a part of your company. He seems so happy here."

I could have killed her right there and then.

"Your son? Brook is YOUR son? Oh, my goodness! Well, how nice to meet you... Mrs Chapin, is it?"

My mother let out a pained grunt. "Umm, no, dear. Ms Ahern. Bev, please."

"Well, Bev," Amanda put her arm around me, "we just adore Brook here at The Wireworks. She is doing a wonderful job."

"Yes. I’m sure he is," my mother oozed.

"Umm," I interrupted, "I’m sorry that my mother came to speak to me here, Amanda. It won’t happen again."

"Oh, don’t be silly," Amanda laughed. "It’s no big deal. Anytime, Bev."

"Actually... mom..." I looked at the stranger who had given birth to me, "maybe we could meet somewhere... ELSE. Ok? Maybe someplace where I don’t work."

I think Amanda realized at that point that I was uncomfortable with this situation.

"Sure," mother dearest smirked. "How about I take you and your ‘friend’ to breakfast tomorrow morning and we get all caught up?"

"Umm, that’s not the best day," Brooke pointed out. "Tomorrow is homecoming and we have hair and makeup appointments starting at eleven thirty."

"Oh, well, let’s say eight thirty, then. At The Town Line Restaurant. Sound good? Should I pick you up at your daddy’s house?"

Honest God, the way she said ‘your daddy’s house’ cut through me like a red hot knife. The last thing I wanted was for dad to have to deal with her.

"No... I’ll meet you at The Town Line," I agreed, seeing no other options.

"Excellent," she smiled. She came over to the reception desk and gave my cheek a peck that barely made contact with me before she turned to leave. "Till tomorrow, honey." Then she turned and looked at Brooke. "And you, too, dear. And what was your name, again?"

"It’s Brooke," Brooke said, sounding a bit exhausted by my mother’s pretentious behavior.

"Really!?" She had to have been told Brooke’s name by Mr Davies. We knew that. "Well, isn’t that a coincidence. I will see you both in the morning, then. Ta!"

When she’d left, Amanda said, "I gather that this was a bit of a surprise, then? This visit from your mother?"

I nodded. "She left us a long time ago. I didn’t expect to ever see her again and I certainly never expected her to come here. I’m so sorry."

"Hey, not your fault," she said, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "Tell you what. You two call it a night and head home. I’ll finish this up here."

"But it’s only ten forty," I said.

"It’s fine," she smiled. "Get some rest and have a great time tomorrow night. As for tomorrow morning..." she took a deep breath and let it out. "... family can really suck sometimes, Brook, but... who knows... give her a shot. Maybe she’ll be ok. If she’s a pill, just leave and focus on homecoming. Ok?"

I nodded. "Ok."

"Are you going to tell your dad about your mom?" Brooke asked me as we were headed home.

"My mom?" I laughed. "You have a ‘mom,’" I pointed out. "I have a ‘mother.’ Someone who birthed me. She’s not my mom. But... yeah... I think I should tell my dad. I don’t want him to think that I’m doing something behind his back."

When Brooke pulled her Jeep into her driveway, I noticed that our house was dark.

"I think my dad is probably at your house," I said.

"Probably," Brooke said.

We got out and walked to the house. "Let’s hope we don’t catch them doing something they shouldn’t be doing," she laughed.

We opened the door and found them in the great room watching the end of an old movie on TV. The closing credits were just starting as we entered.

"Hey, you two are home early," Mrs Kerr smiled.

"Yeah, Amanda let us go a little early because of something that happened at the restaurant tonight," I said.

My dad looked concerned. "Really? What happened? You guys didn’t get fired, did you?"

"No, nothing like that," I said and shook my head. "Umm, dad... I think... maybe... I need to talk to you... alone... for a little bit."

"Oh," he said, concerned and a little confused. He bent and kissed Mrs Kerr goodnight, then we headed home.

"So?" he asked when we were outside.

I took a deep breath and got ready. The last thing I wanted was to upset dad right now. He’d come a long, long way recently. He’d gotten a better job, taking classes, dressing better, seeing a therapist, staying sober... For the first time that I could remember, dad had hope for a better future. The last thing I wanted to do was slap him in the face with his past.

"So, I had a visitor at work tonight..." I said.

"A visitor?" Dad said, then it seemed to dawn on him who the visitor must have been. "Oh... your mother?"

I nodded.

"And?"

"Well," I said, "I didn’t really speak to her, much. The thing is, though... she wants Brooke and me to have breakfast with her tomorrow morning. I think that, if I don’t show up, she’s going to be persistent and keep showing up at work. Maybe even here."

We reached our steps and dad took my hand and sat me down next to him. Now, it was his turn to take a deep breath. "Look, Brook... honey... if you want to see your mother, that’s fine. It won’t upset me. Maybe getting to know her is the right thing to do."

"But I don’t think I really want to, dad," I said. "She says she wants me to hear her side of the story. You know... why she left us."

Dad let out a strange, frustrated laugh. "To tell you the truth, I’d like to hear that, too."

He looked at me and looked older and sadder than I’d ever seen. "I suppose that, after what I did this summer and then that thing with Jake Winter, you probably think the worst, don’t you? Like... maybe I beat her or something. Right?"

I shrugged. It had crossed my mind.

"I didn’t," he said flatly, then he looked at the ground, looking ashamed to be bringing it up again. "In fact, I didn’t even drink all that much when she was around. A beer or two once or twice a week, but that’s all. I never laid a hand on her, Chef. I swear. I think... I think the reason I might have beaten you up so badly was... because I was really, really drunk and I thought I was losing you the way I lost her. I was scared and I was a coward and it was a cowardly thing to do. I feel terrible about it everyday."

He looked at me, again. "Chef... if you want to get to know your mom, it’s fine with me. I understand."

I shook my head. "She’s just my mother, dad. Not my mom. It’s just that she’s... so... persistent... like I said. And I know that you still have a bit of a thing for her, so..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," dad said. "Why on earth would you think that I have ‘a thing’ for your mother?"

"Well... you still have those two pictures of her on your dresser. I mean... After all these years, why would you keep those if you didn’t still have feelings for her? I figured that she must have been, like, the love of your life."

Dad rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward and shook his head. "Alight, I admit... yes, those pictures are of the love of my life, but... Look... Chef... I know that most of your life I have been... distant... as a father, and I made a pretty terrible mistake this summer, but..." he rubbed his forehead and looked down our driveway. "...Chef... honey... I... I know who I am and what I am. I’m... I’m nothing, honey... nothing...

"Dad..."

"...except your dad." He finished.

"Dad... that’s not true. You’re..."

"No, listen, honey." He still looked down the driveway. "Honey... I... I was an idiot as a kid. I screwed up and I took chances and I made mistakes. Huge mistakes. Like your mother. She was a huge mistake, but..." He grimaced and his bottom teeth appeared and scraped his upper lip as he thought. "Brook... the very first moment that I saw you... the moment that the doctor handed you to your mother... I knew right then and there that I had a purpose in life." He looked at me and his eyes were watery. "I was your father, Brook. That was my purpose, and... I tried, honey. I did. I really tried. I tried really hard to be a good father, but... I had just gotten so good at being a screw up, that I didn’t know how to be good at anything."

He shook his head and looked down the driveway, again. "I really did try, though, and one day, when you were little, I decided to take my wife and my little boy for a day at the lake." He snickered as he remembered. "I thought, you know... we’d be a real family. Have a real life. Like real people. God knows I couldn’t really afford it, but... I just wanted us to live a normal life."

I bit my lower lip. This conversation had gone in a different direction than I’d expected and I didn’t know what to say.

"That day at the lake..." he continued, "you had so much fun, honey. You were in and out of the water all day and you laughed like I’d never seen you laugh before. My little boy was actually happy. That day... I really thought that I was going to be able to be a good dad, but then... It was like as soon as your mom got a taste of a normal life, she just wanted it all... everything... a life of vacations and beaches... immediately... And she knew that she couldn’t have that with me. I was just a screw up. A GED instead of a high school diploma. A crappy job at the lumber yard. I was never going to be able to give her vacations in the Caribbean, or a winter home in Florida... and she knew that, but... even a good middle class life wasn’t enough for her. It was like she had no interest in trying to help me, after that... to work with me to make a good life for the three of us after that day. Everything fell within three or four months of that day and... then... she left."

He looked at me, took my hand and kissed it. "Brook... yes... I have pictures of the love of my life on my dresser, but I don’t have any pictures of your mother. I have a picture of the day that the love of my life came into my life and a picture of the only time I ever made the love of my life happy. Those pictures are of you, Brook. Not your mother. When I look at those pictures, I don’t even see her. I just see you."

"Oh, dad," I sighed as I leaned into his shoulder.

"So, baby, go see your mother if you want or don’t if you don’t want, but please believe me... that woman means absolutely nothing to me anymore. NOTHING. Alright?"

"Alright, dad," I said and I kissed his cheek. Then I rested my head on his shoulder. "Alright."
 
 
To Be Continued...

A Boy Called Brook: Autumn 4 by Clara Copyright© 2022 Clara Schumann   Brook meets with his mother and then prepares to go to the homecoming dance in an elegant gown.

The next morning, Brooke and I were at The City Line right on time, waiting for my mother to arrive.

"We can leave if you want," Brooke said, seeing that I was nervous.

"No. I should at least talk to her. Maybe get her out of my hair, you know?"

My mother came in about fifteen minutes late and sat in the booth across from Brooke and me. She never apologized for being late or acted as if she had any reason to apologize. She just sat and smiled, ordered a black coffee, an egg white omelette and a side of bacon, then looked at us.

"So," she finally said, "when did my little boy become a little girl?"

I just looked at her for a moment. "I'm not your little boy or your little girl and that's none of your business."

"Oh, isn't it? I am your mother, after all?"

"No." I said, emphatically. "You birthed me. That's all. A mother would have raised me. You're a stranger."

She smiled even more broadly. "Fair enough... but maybe if you knew my side of the story, you'd understand why I left."

"I'm all ears," I said.

"Ok," she smiled and shrugged. "So... I started dating your 'daddy' when I was fifteen, Brook. Fifteen. I had just turned sixteen when I missed my period and I knew I was pregnant. I didn't love your 'daddy'... we were just dating." Every time she said 'your daddy' she said it as if it was an insult. "It was just a high school thing, you know? I mean... If you hadn't come along, we probably wouldn't have even thought about going to prom together. As it was, by the time prom did roll around, I was five months along and my tits were starting to get bigger every day. It didn't really matter though, because your 'daddy' had already dropped out and everyone knew that he'd knocked me up, so he wasn't allowed to go to prom and I was stuck at home."

I think she wanted me to say something, but I waited for her to continue - which she did.

"So, what I wanted to do was have the baby, have my mom help me raise it (yep, 'it' - that's me - 'it') and then go back to school, but oh, no! My parents wouldn't hear of it and your father was all about getting married and playing house. So, they all teamed up together and forced me into a life I never wanted. I stuck around as long as I could, but eventually... I just couldn't handle it any more. I had to leave."

Our breakfasts arrived at that point, so our conversation stopped and we waited till the waitress left before we said anything.

When she'd walked away, my mother said, "I suppose it goes without saying that your 'daddy' is not exactly a great catch - am I right? I mean... a high school dropout... no prospects... working at the lumberyard his whole life... Not exactly what I signed up for, if you know what I mean."

She giggled at her own words and began preparing her breakfast to be eaten. "So, you see what I'm saying, right?"

I looked at my eggs and I thought about what she'd said. "I understand that you were young, sure, but..." I let that hang there for a bit as I thought some more.

"You know, babe," Brooke said, "maybe you should just let this go, you know."

"Babe?" My mother laughed. "Are you two a couple?"

"Yeah, why?" Brooke asked, a bit defensively.

"Well," my mother smirked and looked at Brooke, "it's just that it would seem to me that a girl that looks like you could... I don't know... maybe could find a boy who was more... masculine than my little slugger, here."

"Little slugger?" I said, shocked at her insensitivity.

Brooke put her hand on my forearm and stopped me, though, "Look, Ms Ahern, I don't know quite why you think that you're God's gift to the world and that you're somehow superior to everyone else in the world, but I'm here to tell you that I find you to be one of the rudest and most insensitive people I have ever met in my life."

My mother's smile never faltered. "You probably think that I've never heard that before, don't you? Well, let me tell you something, young lady... When you're a successful woman in a man's world, you need to be harder and less sensitive than the women at home reading bedtime stories to their smelly little children. You need to call them like you see them and that's what I do. I call them like I see them."

Brooke was flush with anger and about to explode, but I stopped her and looked at my mother. I was calm and spoke evenly. "Look... 'mom'... I... You... Your story is definitely understandable. I get it. You were young and you were in trouble - yeah I get it, but dad was young and in trouble, too, and you know what? Dad stayed. Dad took care of me."

"Did he?" she asked, with a good deal of snark. "Because I have a friend on the police force who tells me that he put you in the hospital this summer. Is that how he took care of you? Or did he take care of you by dressing you up like a Barbie doll? Explain it to me, Brook, because from where I'm sitting, it looks like 'daddy' did a pretty piss-poor job of raising you."

She still had that grin, that shit-eating grin, plastered to her face.

"Don't get me wrong, though," she said, taking a sip of her coffee, "I like the whole Barbie doll look. I think it's really working for you. I guess I just assumed that, if you worked that hard to look like a girl, and a pretty girl at that, then I just assumed that there were boys involved. So, I made the assumption that you were gay. My mistake.'

I'd had enough. "I think we should go," I said to both Brooke and the woman sitting opposite me.

"Why? Did I upset you?" She put down her coffee and suddenly actually looked concerned. "What did I say? I thought that we could discuss all of these things freely in this day and age. Come on. Sit back down. I'll be more diplomatic."

"More diplomatic!?" I snapped, but speaking in an angry whisper. "You've already insulted me, insulted my father, told my girlfriend she can do better than me... my God, how are you possibly going to be diplomatic, now?"

She smirked, again. "I never insulted you, Brook. In fact, I said you looked very pretty. I never insulted your 'daddy,' I just gave you my opinion - which I kind of thought you would share, since he put you in the hospital a few months ago. And I never... ok, I may have implied that Brooke could attract a more manly man than you, but I've already explained that I assumed that you were gay. Now, come on - look at yourself. Anyone seeing you and knowing that you're a boy is going to assume that you're gay. That's not an insult - that's common sense."

I looked at Brooke who looked as angry and confused as I did.

I looked back at my... mother. "If I stay... you have to behave and be polite."

She picked up her coffee again. "Promise." She took a sip and indicated that we should sit, again.

For some reason, we did.

"Well, I guess you're curious about what I've been doing since I said goodbye all those years ago..." Truly I wasn't, and she hadn't actually said 'goodbye' at all. She just left without a word, but she went into a ten minute homily about how she'd shaken off the dust of her old life - that would be me, I guess - and started over in a nearby city. She got her realtor's license and done well for herself before moving her business to Orlando, Florida where she'd done even better.

"I just love fall in New England, though," she said, looking out the window of the diner at the red, orange and yellow trees, "so I always come back for a few weeks in the fall. I stay with your grandmother at a house I bought before I moved south. She moved in there after my 'daddy' died and we sold their ramshackle place."

Grandmother? I still had a grandmother? I hadn't even suspected that I might still have a grandmother. Dad's mother was gone before I was born and his father had moved away when I was little. I heard he'd passed away somewhere in Arizona a few years ago, but I didn't know him enough to have any feelings about him. It seemed to bother dad for a few days. He drank pretty hard for a week or so, but then he seemed alright.

"So, what have you been up to since we parted company?" she asked. I took note of the way she couched everything in terms that would indicate that she was not solely responsible for leaving. Frankly, though, the idea that I might still have a grandmother had so surprised me that I didn't say anything. Brooke spoke for me instead.

"Well, Brook is a senior at Tech. He's in the culinary academy, training to be chef. He's one of the top two chefs in his class, he's a sous-chef in their kitchen. This year, he bravely came out as gender fluid and is killing it dressing in his feminine mode... Oh... and, of course, he has a smoking hot girlfriend."

Brooke smiled at her last, playful statement, took my hand and laced her fingers through mine.

My mother nodded and looked at Brooke. "And do you also go to Tech?"

"I do," Brooke smiled.

"Let me guess - hair and makeup, right?"

"Cosmetology, yes."

"And I'll bet that my son's 'smoking hot girlfriend' played a big part in his decision to become 'gender fluid.'" She formed air quotes around the last two words.

"Well, I may have helped, but I never..." Brooke began to speak, but I found my tongue.

"You know, you're a few years late to impose your values on me, Ms Ahern." I said. "I'm nineteen years old, about to graduate from high school and head out on my own. I am an A/B student who has never gotten into trouble and I have taken care of my house, my father and myself since the selfish woman who gave birth to me didn't show up to pick me up after school one day when I was in third grade."

"I just explained..." she tried to say, but I wasn't hearing it.

"That you had other priorities, yeah, I heard you, but unfortunately, at that age, I didn't even know what priorities were. I was just a kid whose mother didn't love him any more."

"Ok, babe," Brooke said, trying to calm me down. "Why don't we just get going."

I looked at my girlfriend and I wanted to calm down - I really did - but I was just so damned... angry.

Brooke smiled, though and rubbed my upper arm. "Brook, baby, you're letting her get to you for no reason."

I looked from Brook to Ms Ahern and then took a breath. "Unfortunately, there is a reason." Damn it. My eyes were starting to water. I really didn't want that to happen. I looked at Ms Ahern and shook my head in disappointment. "I think... I really wanted to have a mother, but... I got you, instead."

Then I looked at Brooke and nodded. "Come on. Let's go."

I stood and Brooke got out of the booth behind me.

"You have a mother sitting right here," the woman I left behind said.

"I wish that were true," I said and left.

I wiped the tears from my eyes and put her behind me. I wasn't going to let her hurt me any more. Between Alex and her crowd and my 'mother,' I was developing thick skin when I needed it. And I really needed it right then.

We returned to Brooke's favorite salon, 'The St Onge Salon,' in the city and got the full treatment. Facials, hair, makeup, nails, everything. We were there four hours and when we left we looked like we were about to attend a royal wedding or something, rather than a high school homecoming dance. Brooke's hair had a bit of a crown to it, but still fell luxuriously down her back. Mine was piled high in tight curls with little pearls placed throughout it to coordinate with the appliqués on the gown. I have to admit... I looked pretty amazing. Brooke, of course, looked breath taking.

When we got back to the Kerr's house, dad and Mrs Kerr were exiled to our place until we were ready to leave for homecoming. We wanted to surprise them - Well, Brooke wanted to surprise them. To tell you the truth, I was a little nervous about dad's reaction. I mean, I knew he was cool with everything and all, but... this was a lot of femininity to deal with.

Melissa and Elena were excited to act as our dressing assistants. I think they were as excited about the evening as Brooke and I were.

In a few minutes, Brooke was dressed in a beautiful, white lace bra and panty set and I was wearing a pretty blue, silk and lace, hi-cut panty.

Then came my stick-on bra. It was an interesting contraption that was obviously designed for smaller breasted women. Brooke attached adhesive strips to the bottom, insides of the plastic cups of the bra, which, incidentally, were not connected to one and other. Then she attached the cups to my breasts.

"Now the magic happens," Brooke smiled and she pulled the two cups together and connected them to each other with a hook and eye that sat between the, and, yes, nearly magically, I had small breasts appear on my chest. They weren't impressive, but they were there.

"Hey look," Elena giggled. "Little boobies."

"Not so little," Elena said, pulling her shirt tight and standing beside me to compare. "I'd say we're about the same size, still."

"Yeah, but you're padded," Melissa teased her sister.

"Nope," Elena shook her head. "It's all me, now. I'm done with padding."

"Good for you," Brooke said and kissed her sister's cheek. "Let's get Brook into his dress first. We need to lace him into the corset top so that it gives him a little more support."

"And boob," Melissa said.

"And boob," Brooke chuckled and agreed. "Before we do that though, go to the potty, babe."

I looked at her, confused. "But... I don't need to go."

"Well, I suggest you try," she laughed, "because once you're in that big gown, it's not going to be easy to go."

"Oh," I said, as I realized she was right.

"It'll be a lot harder than going when you're wearing a romper," Elena chuckled. 'I mean, you'll never be able to hold up all those skirts by yourself, and then, how would you wipe, and..."

"Yeah, ok," I said, with a smile. "I'll be right back."

Moments later, I was back in the bedroom, having tinkled the little but I was able to purge. Brooke had my blue tulle gown spread like an area carpet on the floor with a hole in the center.

"Ok, babe," she smiled, standing there in her beautiful lingerie. "Time to become a princess." She offered me her hand, which I took, and I stepped over the sea of blue tulle and into the hole and just stood there as my ladies in waiting, Elena and Melissa, raised the top of the dress up my torso, running the delicate, lace bands of material that would hang decoratively over my biceps up my arms.

I lowered my arms to hold the dress in place as Brook began to tighten the lacing of the corset-top. She pulled it very tight, allowing the boning within the dress' bodice to do its job and create even more cleavage where the new bra had already created some.

"Wow," Elena whispered to me. "I think you've got me beat, now." That made me let out a little snicker.

Once Brooke had tightened the laces completely, she tucked the excess laces into the back of the dress and began buttoning up the long row of teeny tiny, blue pearlescent buttons that ran up my back.

When, finally, she was done, Brooke let out a huge, dramatic sigh. "Whew! That was hard work! Good thing all the fun parts are still accessible through the bottom."

"Oh, gross!" Melissa said, while making a face, but Elena laughed hard.

"I probably shouldn't have said that in front of you two, huh?" Brooke scolded herself, but smiled at them because she'd shared a very grown up joke with them. "Ok, El, can you grab Brook's pumps and help him with those? Mel, can you help me get into my dress?"

I sat on the bed and, as delicately as possible, pulled back my layers of tulle until my feet were visible and Elena could ease them onto my feet.

By the time I stood, Brooke was fully dressed in her deep red mermaid dress with the gold highlights and gold shoes. That was the first time I realized that she was wearing platform heels for the evening. She was always a few inches taller than me, but now... now I could barely see over her shoulder. It made her look more goddess-like and made me feel more small, defenseless and feminine than ever. It was as if I only existed from the waist up. Everything below there was just absorbed into the meringue of blue tulle that blossomed from the bottom of my dress' bodice and just touched the floor. I felt beautiful, but I didn't feel beautiful IN the dress, I felt beautiful BECAUSE of the dress. Like the dress was the beautiful thing and it was allowing me into it to help display it. So, I shared in its beauty.

"Wow," Elena shook her head. "You guys look... I was going to say amazing, but I think 'beautiful' is a better word. You both just look beautiful. And you look so beautiful together."

"Aww, thanks, El," Brooke actually blushed a little. "What do you think, Mel? Do you approve?"

She shrugged. "You're not too ugly, I guess."

We all smiled at that.

"Hey!" Mrs Kerr called up the stairs. "Any chance you two might be coming down sometime soon? Vic and I would like to take some pictures before the limo gets here."

"They're coming!" Elena yelled back down.

I took a deep breath. "Ok. Here goes. Someone have a phone ready to call nine-one-one in case my dad passes out."

Brooke smiled. "Now remember to hold your skirts and walk slowly and carefully down the stairs. We don't want you to take a tumble in that gown."

"Yes, mother," I said, but immediately regretted having brought up such a terrible human being.

When we reached the top of the stairs, the two younger sisters ran downstairs and told dad and Mrs Kerr where to stand so that we could make our grand entrance. Brooke came along side me and took my arm in her's, then made sure I had my tulle skirts properly gathered before we began our descent.

The first reaction I noticed was Mrs Kerr's gasp. "Oh, my," she said in a tearful, maternal voice. "Vic... they're beautiful."

I was pretty focused on not falling down the stairs, but I definitely heard my dad whisper, "Holy cow."

Then I heard Mrs Kerr say, "Oh Vic... I know. He looks beautiful, though, doesn't he?"

"Yeah," he sniffled. "Yeah. They both do."

When we reached the bottom of the stairs, both Mrs Kerr and dad came over and hugged us both and showered us with compliments.

We took somewhere between a dozen and eight hundred thousand pictures by the grand staircase in the entrance of the Kerr's house until, at last, the limo drove into the driveway.

"Mom, we need to go," Brooke said as Mrs Kerr attempted to take more pictures.

"Ok," Mrs Kerr said, with a smile. "Let's get some shots by the limo, too!"

Out we went, with Elena and Melissa leading the way, followed by Brooke and me, then Mrs Kerr and dad.

We were on photo number three hundred and eighty when I noticed a woman walking over from our house and calling to my dad. "Victor! Victor! Is that you?"

Dad heard her and turned to see who was calling his name. "Eleanor?" Dad asked, confused. "Eleanor. What are you doing here?"

I had no idea who the woman was, but dad seemed perplexed by her presence.

The woman looked a little confused... well, maybe flustered is a better word. "Victor..." she said, looking for words. "I... well... umm... Victor... Beverly... well, Karen... told me that she had breakfast with my grandson today."

I felt a rush of nervous warmth flush over my body. This woman was my grandmother.

"Victor," she said... "I was told... all this time I thought..." the woman was nearly hysterically upset.

"Eleanor," my dad said as calmly as he could, "what did Karen tell you?"

The woman took a deep breath. "Victor. She told me that she took Brook to Florida with her and that she'd sent him to a private, boarding school. I assumed that she was just... keeping him away from me for some reason. Victor... I had no idea that my grandson was still living four miles away from me all these years."

Dad half-glanced in my direction. "Umm... Eleanor... this may not be the best time..."

"Victor, you and Brook must think I am the most horrid woman. All these years I've neglected my own grandchild. That girl of mine... don't get me wrong, Victor, I love her to death, but sometimes I do not understand her." She shook her head and looked back at our house. "Anyway... is Brook home? Can I see him, Victor?'

Dad bit his lower lip. I could see what was going through his head. He wanted that night to be nice for Brooke and me, not a dramatic scene created by my mother's chaotic whirlwind. "Eleanor... I understand how much mayhem Karen... or Beverly... or whatever she's calling herself, can create, but..."

"Nana?" I said, stepping forward, unable to wait any longer to make a connection with my grandmother, who, unlike my mother, actually seemed interested in seeing me.

The woman looked at me for a solid twenty seconds before recognition seemed to dawn on her. "Brook?" A smile slowly formed on her face. "No? Really? Is this Brook?" She stepped towards me in disbelief and raised her hands to touch my face. "My God... I can't believe it."

She touched both of her cool, soft hands to my cheeks and shook her head. Then she kept her hands there and turned to talk to dad. "I can't believe this, Victor. Look at him. He looks exactly like Karen at this age."

My father nodded. "Yeah. I've noticed."

My grandmother returned her gaze to me. "Oh, Brook... we've lost so much time together." Then something seemed to occur to her. "Oh, my God. I just realized how rude I've been. You're not a boy any longer, are you? I'm so sorry. Forgive me, dear. This is all new for a woman in her sixties."

"No, nana," I smiled. "I'm still a boy."

"You're still...?" She looked at me, then Brooke, then my dad and Mrs Kerr. "How is that possible?" She looked at my dad. "Vic? He looks so... natural?"

My dad nodded. "I know. Umm... Eleanor, I can't explain what happened, but over the last year, Brook just... changed. He went from being a quiet and - I think - not very happy boy to the beautiful, self confident person he is now."

She shook her head, but I don't think she was passing any judgement.

"I was a little freaked out by it at first," dad admitted. "In fact," he sighed, "I was pretty opposed to it all... violently opposed, in fact." He looked down and shook his head. "But as the new Brook began to appear... well... for the first time, my son was happy, Eleanor."

She smiled and patted my cheek once again. "Well, that's wonderful."

"Umm..." Brooke got our attention. "I'm sorry to interrupt. Hi, Mrs Ahern. I'm Brooke. I'm Brook's girlfriend. I don't want to break up this reunion, but we were on our way to the homecoming dance and..."

"Oh!" my grandmother said and then looked at me as if realizing for the first time that I was wearing a very elaborate gown. "Oh... yes... of course... The hair, the gowns... you both look gorgeous. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hold you up."

I looked at my grandmother and really wanted to talk to her, but the time just wasn't right. "Nana... I'm sorry, I really do need to get going, but... maybe we could get together next week or something..."

She smiled. "That would be nice, Brook. Thank you." She kissed my cheek. "I will give your father my number. You two have a wonderful night, now."

"We will, nana."

I nodded and let Brooke lead me to the limo. Behind me, I heard my grandmother say to my dad, "Victor... I think we need to talk."

"Wait till the kids leave, Eleanor," dad said quietly, but I was listening closely. "Then we can talk."

The homecoming dance was at a local public country club. Not really fancy, but nicer than the school gym. There was a live band that was led by the father of one of my classmates - I know that might sound like they weren't good, but they were really, really good. There were seven people in the band and they seemed to know every song that had ever been written. Even when we arrived, the dance floor was filled.

The front desk, where we checked in, was manned by teachers and parents to ensure that no one got in that wasn't supposed to be there. Mr Casey, my homeroom teacher, was there and went out of his way to tell me how lovely he thought I looked. I thought that was really nice of him.

We went in to the hall and we were immediately surprised by how great everyone looked. Most of the boys were in tuxedos or nice suits and all of the girls were dressed very well in formal dresses. There were lots of sparkly dresses and lots of hairspray had been used to hold their hair in place. Most girls wore shorter dresses that showed a lot of leg and plunged deep to reveal lots of breast, but there were plenty of girls in actual gowns, like mine. Well... not like mine. Mine was pretty extravagant, but it was not out of place at the event, either.

Over to the side of the room, there was a table where we could vote for homecoming king and queen. This was an honor that typically went to someone popular and on the football team and his girlfriend, but we went over to cast our votes, anyway. You had to ask to have your name added to the ballot for prom king or queen, but I knew that, at the encouragement of a lot of our classmates, Henry Diaz had put his name on the ballot. Both Brooke and I voted for Henry for king and Lina, his girlfriend, for queen. We knew he wouldn't win, but it would be nice if someone we knew and liked did win for a change.

This table was manned by football players and their girlfriends, which seemed a bit suspect to me, but who cared, really.

"Oh, my God!" I heard the obnoxious voice of Alex Winter from down the table. Of course she'd be hanging out at this table with her boyfriend, Jack Gallagher, and the other football players and their girlfriends. "It looks like the fairy must have a godmother who got him dressed for the ball."

Jack and his friends chuckled.

"Ignore them," Brooke said, quietly. "They're just morons."

I just shook my head, complete my form to vote for Henry, and I dropped my ballot into the box.

We found our assigned table where Henry and Lina were already seated with Brooke's friends, Olivia and Marci, and their dates, chatting. When he saw us approaching, Henry stood and pulled out a chair for me while instructing Marci's friend to do the same for Brooke.

Just before I sat, Henry leaned down to speak into my ear and said, "Wow! You look amazing!" Then, before I could thank him, he surprised me by very casually giving me a friendly hug and a peck on my cheek. "You even smell great."

I sat and arranged my copious skirts before Henry gently pushed my chair in. When Henry sat beside me, I thanked him for his help, but reminded him that I wasn't really a girl. "You don't have to leap up to help me like you did."

He laughed. "I know that, Brook, but there's no way that someone wearing a dress like that could get herself into chair and pull it into the table without some help. I'm just being a gentleman."

"That's very nice of you," I smiled. "Thank you, again."

The food was safe and not really interesting, but well prepared. Chicken breasts, baked and served boneless with a thin, safe sauce, green beans and mashed potatoes. Nothing to complain about, but nothing to write home about, either. Most of our dinner conversation was about school, mutual friends, shows we were streaming and video games. Teachers wandered by and talked to us from time to time. They all teased about how nicely we all cleaned up, but Mrs Simpson knelt down next to me and spoke for a good long while.

"You know, Brook," she said so that only I could hear, "you're a very lucky young lady to have not only found herself, but to have found someone who loves you like Brooke does. I hope you're counting all these blessings."

I smiled. "I am, Mrs Simpson, but you just called me a girl. Remember that I'm still a boy in here."

Then she smiled. "I didn't call you a girl, Brook. I called you a lady. You may be a boy, but you are definitely a lady as well."

After dinner, we danced. We danced a lot and you know how girls like to dance with their arms up in the air? Well, because if all of my skirts, I found I had to that, too. I don't think I'd ever had that much fun on a dance floor before. Well, that was a given, I guess, since I don't think I'd ever been on a dance floor before.

But all of that jumping around after a meal did have consequences, though, and pretty soon I needed a restroom and I needed it quickly.

"I told you to go before we left," Brooke laughed at me.

"I did," I said, in a near panic. "I have to go again."

She just smiled, though. "Number one or number two?"

"Both, I think."

She took my hand. "Well, you're going to need some help. Come on."

"Where are you going?" Henry asked when he saw us leaving the dance floor.

"My date needs a rest stop," Brooke said.

Henry nodded. "There's a couple of single occupancy handicap rooms by the entrance. I noticed them when we came in."

"Thanks," Brooke smiled back at me.

"Wait!" Lina said. "I'll come with you."

"Why?" Henry asked. "It's a single person room."

Lina tsk-ed at her boyfriend. "Have you ever considered going to the lavatory in a dress like that? Brook will need help."

"Wait..." Henry thought for a moment. "... but... he's a guy... and you're going to be helping him... pee... or whatever."

Lina looked at Henry with a smirk on her face. "Would you rather help him? Because someone has to. It's up to you."

He considered that for a moment. "Umm... I'll get us all some more lemonade and meet you at the table. Ok?"

Lina smiled and kissed his cheek. "Yeah. That's what I thought. We'll be right back."

We headed to the entry way where we passed the football players and their dates. "Oh, I hope you're not leaving so soon," Alex Winter cooed sweetly at us. "You simply must wait until the homecoming king and queen are crowned."

I ignored her, but I think Brooke was about to say something before she was preempted by Lina. "Stuff it, Alex. We have other things to deal with."

We found the restrooms and, thankfully, they were fairly spacious inside.

"Ok, let's get the back up, first," Brooke instructed. She and Lina lifted the layers of skirts high and I felt my panties being lowered. "Alright. Now back up and sit on the seat." I did. "Is the front aimed down?"

"I... I don't know," I answered honestly.

Brooke sighed. "Can you hold up everything back there?" she asked Lina, who said she could. So, Brooke raised the front of my skirts and said, "Give me your hand." I did and she guided it to my limp penis. "Ok, sport," she smiled at me. "You're in charge."

I wasn't easy to go with the two of them standing around me waiting, but they were a necessary distraction at that moment. Eventually I was able to relax enough to pee and once that happened, the other function came quickly, too. Luckily, it wasn't a lot of number two, nor was it particularly messy.

"All done?" Brooke asked.

I nodded, much more embarrassed about what was about to happen than by what had already happened.

"Well... stand up, then," Brooke sighed, wadding up a few pieces of toilet paper.

Lina grabbed a few pieces as well and raised the front of my skirts without so much as a second thought and dabbed the tip of my penis a few times. I guess I must have looked shocked because when she saw my face she said, "What? It needed to be dry before we pull your panties back up? Don't get so upset. I have three little brothers. I've seen boy's winkies before."

I might have said something about my 'winky' being a little different than her little brother's, but the sensation of suddenly having someone else wiping my butt became the sole focus of my attention. It was certainly a new and not very pleasant experience. I must have let out a 'yip' or something, because both girls giggled.

"Well, not terrible," Brooke said from behind me, "but I have to tell you, babe... there are no more mysteries in our relationship. Once you've wiped your partner's bottom, the bloom is off the rose."

"I'm sorry," I muttered, utterly embarrassed, but both girls just laughed.

"She's just teasing," Lina smiled. "Honestly, come prom night, we have to help out a lot of girls like this."

"All done," Brooke said, with a brisk slap on my bottom. "Stand up straight and let me pull up your panties."

Minutes later we were walking back into the hall with the band playing that old song 'YMCA,' so the dance floor was filled. We went on search of Henry and found him at our table with fresh drinks of lemonade for all of us. We sipped it and the song ended and Principal Kemp took the stage.

"Alright, everyone, settle down for a minute. It's time to announce our homecoming king and queen."

There was some applause from everyone.

Mrs Elliot, a teacher who always seemed to be involved in every event at school, but never seemed to be in a classroom, came up onto the stage with two envelopes. "First, the king," she said. There was a lot of applause and whooping, more than you'd expect from the football team and their dates. Mrs Elliot made a big show of opening up the envelope and pulling out the card with the winner's name on it. "And the winner is... Henry Diaz!" she announced with great flair.

The football team went crazy with excitement.

"Congratulations!" Lina said, hugging Henry.

Henry looked dubious, though. "I think this is a set up," he said. "Look at them. They look way too happy."

We all looked in that direction, and Henry was right. They should have been ticked off, but they were applauding like crazy.

Henry shrugged and walked to the stage where Mrs Elliot congratulated him and placed a cheesy, rhinestone crown on his head.

Now, normally, the homecoming queen would be a given. If Henry was king, Lina was queen.

But Henry was right. This was a set up.

"And the homecoming queen," Mrs Elliot announced as she slowly opened the next envelop, "is..."

I glanced towards the football contingent and I knew that something was about to happen. They were all staring at me with smiles on their faces.

And then I knew exactly what was about to happen and I whispered, "Shit."

"What?" Brooke asked, just as Mrs Elliot finished her sentence.

"...Brook Chapin."

My heart sank as the football players and their girlfriends went insane with laughter and applause.

"Those bastards," Brooke hissed.

Lina leaned in an said, "You should just go up and get the tiara, Brook. Fuck 'em."

"Brook, Brook, Brook!" the football assholes shouted. "Brook, Brook, Brook!"

I didn't know where to look, or what to do, all of a sudden someone took my hand and pulled me towards the stage. It was Henry. "Come on," he said. "Let's show them how to be dignified."

It was at that point that I realized that there were three different groups of people applauding for me. The first, and the loudest, was the football contingent who were all jeering at me. Second was a big chunk of the school who had no idea who I was and were just applauding to be polite. The final group, who were applauding almost as loudly as the football group, were people who knew me and were actually supporting me. And weirdly enough... they were the largest group.

When we reached the stage, Mrs Elliot carefully put a tiara into my hair and smiled. "Well... this is a first," she said with a stressed smile. Then she turned to the crowd and said, "Well, normally this would be the time for our king and queen to dance, but..."

"Dance, dance, dance!" the Neanderthals shouted from their tables.

"Come on," Henry said, quietly, but firmly. "Let's dance."

He escorted me to the dance floor and turned to face me. He bowed very theatrically and put his arms around me in the classic dance position as the band began playing 'All of Me' by John Legend, driving the football crew into howls of laughter. I'm sure the band had no idea why the students thought that it was hilarious that they were singing,

'Cause all of me loves all of you. Love your curves and all your edges. All your perfect imperfections...,' but they were still laughing.

At least at first.

As the song went on, though, they seemed to lose interest. They seemed get ticked off that their joke wasn't being appreciated by the rest of the student body.

"Are you ready to be dipped?" Henry asked me.

"Dipped?" I asked, not sure what he meant, but before I knew what was happening, he laid me nearly backwards in his arms. The rest of the kids applauded and howled with appreciation. That seemed to completely shut up the football team completely and they wandered away to pick on somebody else.

When the dance was done, Henry continued to hold my right hand in his left while he waved to the rest of the kids at the dance. I followed his lead and waved as well as he led me back to our table, where we found Brooke and Lina pretending to dance just as Henry and I had been dancing a few minutes earlier.

"Very funny," Henry laugh.

Without saying anything, Brooke dipped Lina very low, then they both looked at us, wide eyed and innocent before they said in unison, "Oh... hi."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Henry laughed. The band started playing 'Can't Stop The Feeling,' a great song for dancing. He let go of my hand and took Lina's. "Come on. Let's dance."

Lina got herself upright and shrugged. "Oh. Ok. If you have time for me." She was only teasing, but I think a part of her had been hurt by the cruel joke played on Henry and me.

Regardless, I stopped Henry as he turned to go. 'Hey... Henry..."

"Yeah?" He stopped, a big smile on his face.

"Umm... thanks," I said.

He winked at me. "No problem, Brook. We're buds, right? It's what buds do."

That made me grin. "Yeah. Thanks."

When they walked away, I turned to Brooke, who was looking at my tiara. "Well, we are going to have a heck of a story to tell our children, aren't we? 'That's right kids, your dad was homecoming queen.' We need to have this tiara mounted, or framed or something, so that we can show it off forever."

I shook my head. "That could have gotten ugly if it weren't for Henry."

"Yeah, but you had Henry, babe," Brooke smiled. "There's always going to be assholes in the world. The way to beat them is to surround yourself with friends. You just never did that before."

I nodded.

"Now, come on." She started to sing as she took my hand and backed towards the dance floor while looking at me the whole time.

"I got that sunshine in my pocket,
Got that good soul in my feet.
I got that hot blood in my body when it drops, Ooh.
I can't take my eyes up off it,
moving so phenomenally.
The room on lock the way we rock it,
so don't stop..."

We danced the rest of the night and I had the time of my life, realizing that Brooke was right. Over the summer I'd found a great girlfriend in Brooke, a great new family in Mrs Kerr and my new sisters Melissa and my amazing Elena, and now I had a great group of friends in Henry, Lina, Olive, Marci and all of the kids at Tech who know who I was, knew what I was and still supported me. Even my dad had become a new person who was working hard to show me how much he loved me, and even though my mom was no great prize, I had just reconnected with my nana, who seemed very accepting and just wanted a relationship with me.

Sure, there were always going to be the Alex Winters of the world, and her friends and their fathers who hated for no reason, and there'd always be self centered people like my mother who couldn't see past their own self interests, but look at what I had found...

I had found happiness.

I had found the real me.

I had found someone to love me.

I had found a pretty darned good life.

And most importantly, I had found me.
 
Finis!