On the night when Asher prepares for a coming out party the memories of what led up to this moment come back to him.
“Whose dress is it?” my mum asked, holding it towards me. Her face said, ‘don’t mess with me, I’m not in the mood’ and I knew better than to pick a fight.
“Mine,” I sighed.
She smiled. She was getting somewhere. “And what did Daddy say when he bought it?”
I sighed again. It was obvious I wasn’t going to win this one. “Well?” she was still holding the dress and I was still sitting on my bed, making no move to take it from her.
“Asher?”
I stared at my feet. How had I got myself to this point?
“Daddy said he can have it but he has to wear it,” came the voice from my brother’s room. I was going to tell him to ‘shut up’ but mum beat me to it, although she used slightly kinder words.
“Asher, I’m not waiting all day,” she said holding out the dress for me to take. “It’s a lovely dress and you look lovely in it. This evening is all for you, you know.”
I reached for it and took it from her, my spirits sinking as I did. Mum’s smile grew, she had won. I groaned. “Everyone will see me,” I groaned.
“Yes they will,” she replied, “and a good job, too, because dresses like this need to be shown off… and who prettier than you to wear it?”
I heard my brother’s laugh in the next room and wanted to wallop him one. Fortunately, my mum intervened.
“Would you would like a dress, too, Robbie?” she asked.
“No way,” he shot back.
“Then stop being unkind to Asher or I will make you wear one!” That shut him up. Mum turned her attention back to me.
“Come along, Asher, I want to see you in it. Then, we can do your hair.” I groaned and fell back on my bed, clutching the dress to me as if I were holding a person, which in a sense I was. It was me but like a different version of me.
“How did I end up in this situation?” I moaned to myself.
How did I end up in this situation? I can tell you but it has to remain a secret… except, after tonight’s party, it won’t be a secret any more, not if I wear this dress. This dress, this wonderful blue and burgundy checked dress that I saw in the shop window and really, really wanted so much that I almost begged mum to buy it for me and she said daddy would pay and I was desperate that my father didn’t find out that I wanted a dress, what would he think of his son?. But the small checks were so sweet and I remembered seeing Katie Anne wearing exactly the same dress to a birthday party a few months’ ago and I loved the collar, scalloped I think she called it, and when I saw it in the shop I wanted it, oh so much. With burgundy tights or navy blue, either would do, it would look so lovely, I would look so lovely, that I overcame my fear of what dad would say and said, “yes, please ask if I can have it”.
And here I am, hugging the dress I wanted so much and remembering the promise I made dad who I thought would be sad or mad or just really angry that his son, the one who found it hard to like football and who instead played with the girls and had one best friend who was a girl, wanted a dress to wear. So, of course, when instead of yelling or grabbing me by the arm and marching me to the car in shame, when instead of that he said, “It is a lot of money. I will buy it but only on the condition that you wear it more than once!” I said “I promise to wear it a lot.” And I meant it. Except…
Except, the party this evening is for my whole class and I know we will have fun and all the girls there are friendly and accept me for what I am, how I am, they do not know that I am jealous of them because they are real girls and can be friends and can dress how they dress and talk about the things they talk about without worrying that boys will think they are weird and what type of boy plays with girls anyway? They do not know that I sometimes dress up and pretend that I, too, am a girl and that these tights and boots are normal for me and why shouldn’t I paint my nails if I want to?
I smoothed the dress down my front. “You’ll be late if you don’t get dressed soon,” mum said. “Amy will be calling soon.” Amy knows, she has always known. She is my best friend. She was the one who let me borrow her clothes when we played at her house, and her dolls and she gave me her spare posters of the boy bands we liked and let me paint my nails with her nail polish but no make-up because, after all we were still quite young and nine is too young for make- up, time enough for that later when we are older and more sophisticated. Sophisticated is what Amy’s mum says a lot. She also says words like ‘flamboyant’. That is what I am, she says, flamboyant means that you don’t hide your true self that is bursting out and trying to show the world that I am different from the other boys. My mum agrees that I am flamboyant. I heard Amy’s mum and my mum discuss it. My mum was worried about me, I heard her. She was worried because I am a boy and boys don’t want dolls and dresses and their nails painted and their ears pierced, when we are ten our mums say and not before. Yet, I am a boy. I am a boy. I just find it hard to be a boy like other boys and I love the dresses and care for the dolls that Amy lets me have and love to admire my nails when they are newly painted and love to talk about the boy bands, I know all their names.
“I’m worried about Asher,” I heard mum tell Amy’s mum and I froze upstairs where Amy and I were playing but I knew they were talking about me so moved closer to hear and Amy said they talked about boring things so why bother listening but I knew it was important, that I was a worry and I worried too because what did it mean?
“Amy is a bit in love with Asher,” I heard her mum say and I thought yuck because we were friends but not that way and why would we spoil it with love and I thought I should maybe shout out and say we are friends but not that way so that there was no mistake but instead I heard my dad’s voice, where did he come from?
“Tell her not to waste her time,” he said. “Asher is going to make some boy very happy.” And they laughed, all three.
“Oh Tim,” Amy’s mum said… in that way. “Oh Tim!” as if he had been funny which they thought he was but I didn’t and I didn’t know what that meant, to make a boy very happy. I seemed to make the boys in my class very angry, they said things to me in an angry voice all the time.
I did not make the boys at school very happy. My brother did. Walking to school with Robbie was like walking with a celebrity. ‘Hey Robbie’, they called. Some patted him on the back, in a good way, not in the way they thumped me, laughed and then said ‘oh sorry,’ as if it had been a big mistake. Truth to tell, Robbie hated walking to school with me. Even though he is younger than me he acts bigger, older, tougher. Even the boys in my class like him and in our school no one, no one, hangs around with younger kids. Robbie is a star soccer player and that makes him okay to talk to. They ‘hey Robbie’ him all the time and ignore me, because I don’t really exist and ‘is it true Robbie that your brother plays with dolls?’ and, boy, did he hate that when I first brought a doll home from Amy’s as if he was personally offended by it and ‘mum, how can you let him?’ because it was social death to have a brother like me. I did not make the boys very happy. I annoyed most of them before I even opened my mouth.
“Asher, will you come along!” mum said, throwing a pair of tights my way. Burgundy, just what I would have chosen myself! Actually I did choose them myself. Our first shopping trip for some clothes of my own! Amy and I went to the centre of town which was good because you have to go somewhere away from where you live for your first time, but it was not my first time, we dressed up lots. “Your first time out,” she said. And it was. My first time out in a place where people were who could see me, not just an audience of Amy’s dolls, her soft toys and her mum and dad, who anyway knew I was flamboyant and didn’t mind. My first time in town dressed as a girl and I was buzzing, the electricity was making my ribs and knees tingle and I did not know you could make these things move on their own as if they were the flamboyant parts of my body and ‘hey would you look everyone here is a boy dressed as a girl’… but no one looked, what with everyone shopping and walking and moving and too busy to stop and look at how good I looked in these proper clothes that showed that I, too, could be a stylish person and not the sad person walking to school with hey Robbie.
I had denim shorts and burgundy tights in black boots. I remembered the down more than the up of my clothes because the down was where I was looking in a hide your face way but also in a take a look at your legs they are flamboyant in tights way. I had a hoodie, it is best Amy said in case of a quick hide if we saw someone we knew. It was navy blue and not so good because Robbie had one just like it, but I knew Amy was right, we could hide me in a hoodie if we needed to. At first, I had the hood up all the time even though Amy said you have to be brave and I thought this was already brave enough these tights and boots and what would people say when they saw me? Amy said I had to carry it off, whatever that meant, and that people saw what they wanted to see but I said it was all very well going to a place away from home where no one knew us but first we had to get there! When the bus came I was so relieved because waiting at that bus stop knowing that a neighbour could see me or a friend from school, or worse a boy from school, was very, very hard and I kept that hood right up and my head down and anyway that meant I could look at my legs in tights which I loved. Amy said I was acting suspicious and looked like I was trying to hide something and I said I was hiding, I was hiding from the people who would make my life hell if they saw me like this and Amy said they make your life hell anyway and I knew that was true, the times they made me cry at school or just out because I was not a Robbie boy, full of football and tough talk.
“Here, I will help you,” mum said holding out her hand. I took it and she pulled me up from the bed, making out that it was hard work, as if I were heavy or something. I laughed because that was funny and my mum could make the sun come out. She pulled off my jumper and I let her even though I am nine and old enough to get dressed myself. Sometimes it is nice to be looked after.
“Your hair is getting quite long now,” she said, pulling out some strands to show just how long it was. I was pleased. On the bus on hoody day Amy kept trying to get me to take down the hood, people will think it strange she said but I said it would be strange to see my hair so short and give the game away and she said it isn’t a game and she had short hair which she did but her face was all girl so that was okay but when I told her this she said your face is all girl too and I stopped still in my bus seat wondering was that a good thing or not?
It was my dad’s idea to let me grow my hair. Robbie was a short hair just like all the other boys person. My hair was short too because I was a boy and that was that. Dad did not ask me if I wanted longer hair but no one asked me if I wanted it cut, it just happened every six weeks with dad on a Saturday except one Saturday, about two weeks after hoody day, I noticed Robbie and Dad were out and that was okay because they were out together a lot doing things I did not want to do but they came back with haircuts and I thought, what about me, did I not need a haircut? Different styles suit different people dad said when I was brave enough to ask and Robbie snorted and mum glared at him in a shut up way which he did which made me think they were talking about me without me talking too. ‘He will make some boy very happy, one day’ went through my head and I still did not know what that meant but I knew the not a haircut was connected somehow. Dad said, long hair will suit you, give it a go and I wanted to because, well it would make dressing up easier but what did it mean and why would it not suit Robbie, but I knew why.
I pulled down the hood at last and felt the air around my face, like freedom but a freedom that is scary because it might not be safe to be in town with tights and boots and a hoody top even though Amy was right and no one stared at me or laughed or said there goes a boy in girls’ clothes who does he think he is pretending to me a girl? Amy nudged me, you are staring she said, and I told her I wanted to check that no one was staring at me, and she said don’t flatter yourself, whatever that meant, you are the only one doing any staring. I knew she was right but I had to check, and I relaxed so that by the time we arrived in the centre of town I did not want the ride to end because the next bit would begin which was the being in town and how dangerous was that! We had to thank the driver Amy always did and he said back enjoy your day girls and Amy said see but I listened to the driver again and again in my head to see if he was being nasty or sarcastic or mean but I could not hear it, maybe he was not like the boys at school. ‘Enjoy your day girls’.
Amy hooked her arm through mine and we walked through the town centre, she knew all the shops to go to and where to find all the best stuff. I tried not to stare at other people but I needed to know that they were not staring at me, or worse that they were not from our school and with my hood down and the driver enjoy your day girls in my head I felt strange, but not in a bad way. The enjoy your day girls meant he thought I was a girl and I felt both happy and strange, I did not want to be found out but if I really looked like a girl was I just really, really bad at being a boy?
Shall we get our ears pierced said Amy but in a daring way, we were too young our mums said and we needed to be ten at least but it would be good so we looked at the earrings and dreamed, some day we thought but ten is so far away when you are nine but Amy promised we would have it done together even though she is ten before me which is kind but she is like that, my best friend. Can I help you girls? came from the shop assistant. I was called girl six times that day, this was the second, and I liked it more each time it happened but even better was the girl who looked at me in the window of the sports shop.
Amy asked why I was looking in a sports shop window, you don’t like sports she said, but I stared. I noticed her when we came out of the earring place, all giggly and excited because one day, nine is too young, we would get our ears pierced, and she was there facing me. I thought how strange that we should both have chosen burgundy tights and black boots and her hoody looks nothing like a boy hoody when I paused. Amy giggled on but I looked at me, reflection all girl- like and knew that no one would say hey boy there in the girls’ clothes because she was a girl. Amy stopped giggling and said, see! She was right and it made the day better to know it and each extra have a nice day girls was more cement on the idea that this was the person I truly was.
“Pop your jeans off and we can put the dress on you,” mum said. I slid out of the jeans, not easy when they were so skinny and with just a hint of pink piping on the pockets and waistband. They were the first thing dad bought for me; after the hoody day, when all flushed and excited I returned home from Amy’s where we had played with her dolls and she said take one home to keep safe to remember the day and I did because I was sad when I changed back into my own clothes saying goodbye to even the hoody so I chose Barbie with the sparkly eyes and hid her up my sweatshirt and mum said why are you keeping her dry, it isn’t raining and I said who? as if I did not know what she was talking about and she said your doll and I remembered that word ‘your’ because it was significant. She told me that daddy had bought me some new jeans and I should be pleased and I looked at the skinny denim jeans with pink piping over the pockets and said for me?, my voice rising out of control, I was not sure if it was fear or joy but it slipped into my voice making me sound not like me and mum said who else would they be for, Robbie? I was pleased and scared, dad who liked the football sons who gave him man like thumps on the arm and talked strong had bought me skinny jeans for a girl, I saw them in the shop and Amy and me knew all the stuff to buy, so how did dad? Maybe he knew I was flamboyant.
“Asher, really, your socks are a bit grubby, they could walk to the laundry basket on their own!” mum said. I smiled. She said things like that a lot and I looked at the pale pink socks and agreed that, yes, they were a little grubby but they went so well with my skinny jeans with the pink piping that I wore them yesterday and today. My mum bought me little things that showed that she understood, even before my dad said I would make some boy very happy and I missed a haircut and he bought the skinny jeans. I found socks in my drawer that were not Robbie like socks at all and not black socks that I had to wear to school but socks in pastel colours and some even with butterflies and the pale pink that you might think were white until you looked closely. And the pants that changed from Robbie would love them pants to better ones, ones that were more like Amy’s and I was pleased when Amy let me dress up at her house that I could show that I had pants that were a bit like hers and she hadn’t even had to lend them to me. But nothing on the outside could give me away and I kept my secrets to myself like a Barbie stuck up my jumper but mum knew and she could see my secret so it wasn’t a secret much anymore, not if the word ‘your’ is used for a doll and dad went to the shops to buy skinny jeans with pink piping for the son who hated football and found it hard to punch his arm as hard as his younger son did.
Amy called it my anti- disguise, when I went round her house and dressed in her clothes. I said it was like wearing a disguise but she said a disguise is when you pretend to be somebody else and I said I know that’s why I said it and she said but you become your true self when you wear girls’ clothes so how is that a disguise? Your disguise is when you wear boys’ clothes and try to be like the other boys.
Buying burgundy tights was the best ever time I have spent my pocket money. I was still worried that I would be found out, the shop assistant looked at me carefully but Amy said she was only paying attention because I was the customer and was buying tights and she, too, said have a nice day girls without sounding mean or sarcastic. My tights, my own tights, my ‘I don’t have to borrow Amy’s tights’ tights were mine and my own money had got them for me. Amy said I should have chosen another colour because I was already wearing burgundy but I told her don’t you understand these are mine and I bought them. I left them at her house, the best place to keep my secret, but the skinny jeans at home made me wonder and I was pleased that dad had bought me the jeans but how good a secret was it if it wasn’t a secret? So, the doll came out of my sweatshirt and lived on my bed and dad did not say anything to me to make me feel bad that my thump on his arm was not as hard as Robbie’s and Robbie did try to make fun of me but stopped and I did not know why but found out that dad had told him off, dad, not mum, and maybe, just maybe dad did not need me to thump him on the arm any more.
“You need a shower really,” mum said, “but there isn’t time.” Instead, she picked up the dress and waited for me to hold up my arms. The dress fell into place and I once again felt the thrill of the hem dancing around my knees, just like the first time when dad bought it for me and I was scared and pleased, scared because it was like saying to my dad that I am flamboyant and this is what I want and pleased because I wanted that dress with the burgundy and blue small checks and the collar that I had seen Katie Anne wear and knew, just knew, would look good on me. I was desperate that dad did not find out the flamboyant secret and yet he knew so when he bought it he said on the condition that I wore it and I said of course I would wear it that is why I wanted it and he said no I don’t mean wear it just once like a fancy dress type thing but wear it because it is yours to wear and I agreed.
I promised.
I wanted Amy to see it, I wanted Amy to see me in it, to see that it was mine and that I did not need to borrow her clothes because I had a dress and I could wear my own burgundy tights and she could even borrow it if she liked because she had been so kind to me all those times and we would maybe go to town together and I could wear the dress although it was a bit much, maybe, for town and we could go in skinny jeans instead. And mum said when I was ready to go to Amy’s, why are you not wearing your new dress and I said I have it here, it was over my arm and ready to go with me and the tights were at her house already so I only needed to borrow shoes but mum said that is silly to carry it over there. Put it on now and wear it and I looked at her because Robbie’s friends would be out and would see me and so would the neighbours who might laugh and say that is what you get when you don’t kick a ball properly. So I stared at mum and thought the secret might be bigger now with more people but it is still a secret and I was scared to be out where I would be seen. But you went to town said mum and I looked at her again and said how do you know and she said daddy saw you did you not see him and I didn’t and I tried to remember all the people I stared at and not one of them was dad but Amy said relax and I did so I stopped looking and when I saw the girl staring back at me from the sports shop window I forgot to look to see who might see me in my anti- disguise.
And dad said you can’t hide your whole life and I knew he was right but how did I walk down the road in a dress when the boys would laugh or worse and the neighbours would sigh and sympathise and say, see what flamboyance leads to. You walk with me is how, said dad and he made me put on the dress and I had pink socks but no tights hidden away at home but that is okay, said dad, you can wear your tights when you get to Amy’s but just remember to wear them home, and my secret felt like it was elastic with the people who knew more than they should and when we walked down the street to Amy’s house I thought I would die and Robbie and his friends carried on playing kickball like no flamboyant boy was walking by and dad said see, sometimes the demons are just in your head and I thought they wouldn’t like it in my head with all the pounding it is doing but we reached Amy’s house and her dad said oh Asher this must be the dress we have all heard about and I thought more stretching in that elastic secret but Amy when she saw me made me feel proud, I could choose the right dress but what about shoes, you can’t wear those you need to come with me I have just the pair and we were off back to where the secret started and I could be flamboyant and have my own tights and the shoes she passed to me were perfect, strap shoes that girls at school wore and I knew what my mum meant when she said her shoes finished the look.
“What tights will you wear?” mum asked as she searched through my tights drawer. “Navy? Burgundy? White?” Burgundy would be best but I liked them all, and the red and the black and the yellow with small red flowers and the teal, the teal tights that I bought just last week when we were in town. “Navy,” I said and mum said, “Good choice, Miss” and I laughed because I knew it was a good choice but then white would look more special for a party so I changed my mind and laughed again when mum said “Even better choice, Miss!”.
Walking home from Amy’s was hard. I had no disguise to change into and Amy said I could borrow her shoes until I had some of my own and where was my dad to protect me on the walk home and would Robbie be playing in the street with his friends but I had no choice because I had to be home at a certain time and I did not want to break that rule, not when dad had been so gentle with the elastic secret. So I walked home and knew my face was burning red and if only I had a hoody I could cover my head and look down at my burgundy tights and strap shoes and enjoy the look instead of fearing the neighbours who would look at me and shake their heads but it was not the neighbours but the boys who were out but not with Robbie who would protect me to please dad whose arm he could thump so hard without hurting him. “Fairy!” “Girly!” “Sissy!” They seemed so loud but they looked as if they hissed the words through clenched teeth and I knew that my burgundy and blue checked dress with burgundy tights and strap shoes made them angry but I did not understand why because they did not have to wear them but the clenched teeth and the words they spat made me wonder if it scared them that a dress could take over a boy and I wanted to shout you don’t understand, you have to be flamboyant to wear the dress it will not change you, it will not change anyone, it is just a dress.
My dad said I would make some boy very happy one day but I did not make these boys happy. I made some girls happy. My friends I made happy. I knew that. At school I avoided boys at all costs, these boys sometimes, who saved their friendship for other tough like boys but who hated to show a friendly side to any girl and better stay out of the way if you are not tough. Their words made me cry even though I did not want them to. I got home and the boys disappeared as if they knew they would find trouble here if they stayed and they had seen enough to have so much fun at school the next day, don’t worry it will be around the school in no time and tough boys would be pleased to have a drama they could jump all over and gentle boys would be glad it was not them and some girls would laugh at the boys because they were tough boys and needed to be praised and some girls, my friends, would keep their friendship around me like a blanket, or a shawl, or a shawl in burgundy, yes, that would be best.
“I think this shawl sets off the whole outfit,” mum said wrapping it around me. “Now the shoes,” she said and I stepped into new patent leather strap shoes with a small heal. Mum helped me choose them with this party in mind and I was pleased she made the decision because the size of the party was a worry to me and there were so many ways to dress badly. I stood looking in the mirror with my proud look. Mum taught me how to stand in the mirror to give the proud look. You must not slouch and you must not frown or the look would not be proud. Hands on hips with your chin in the air can help with the proud look. I was proud in the dress and the white tights and the new shoes with a small heal and even Robbie said I looked pretty when he put his head around the door to look and mum said are you getting dressed anytime soon because we would like you at this party in something other than football kit and Robbie smiled in the way he does, just like dad in fact, when he knows mum is not really annoyed with him.
I was not proud when I reached the front door of our house, in fact I was very unproud and my slouch was very big because I wanted the hoody to hide inside. My reflection in the window was not a sports shop, stop and be proud reflection, it was a ‘you are a fool to think you can get away with this’ reflection and a ‘who do you think you are?’ boy stared back at me. Dad opened the door, saw me in my not proud slouch and pulled me into the house. He hugged me and I cried because I was not a boy who could punch his arm in a tough Robbie like way and make him proud of my football skills but was a person who was flamboyant and elated at the reflection in the sports shop window because it was a girl who stared back and she was happy to be a girl and that girl was me. When dad hugged me I wanted to cry some more but it was hard to cry when your dad said to your mum, it’s okay she’s had a bit of a reaction coming home and the place in my brain that tells the tears to fall stopped because it was making sense of the word she and that she was for me and about me and it was not an angry voice that dad used to say she and the hug and the word were enough to make me proud of being a girl.
“Your hair has got a lovely shape to it,” mum said as she picked up the brush. It was true. My hair reached my shoulders practically, long enough anyway to increase the number of times people presumed I was a girl in shops and around town. Tied in a ponytail it looked better but mum said this evening was party night and I needed to wear it down. I am usually allowed to choose a hairclip from my growing collection if I don’t have it tied up.
Dad held me until I stopped crying and then sat me down, face to face. I was aware than mum was in the background but it was dad who did the talking after I told him it was my fault for dressing as a girl and walking home and secrets should be secrets but not if you let the world in and dad said why shouldn’t you wear a dress when every other girl wears one and I let the words flow over me trying to catch the meaning but not really catching it all but it seemed that dad was not angry but on my side but also saying that I could not pretend to be both so who was I really and I was confused because knowing who I was was very, very hard, I just knew who I wasn’t. So I told him I was not a son who could hit him on the arm very hard and do the football skills that Robbie could do so well and no boys liked me anyway so I played with girls but the girls were my friends and they liked the things I liked and I knew as much as them and sometimes even more. Maybe you are a girl then and I knew that if I said yes my life could change but I was scared because one walk home was hard and full of scares so what would be a walk like that everyday be like? I think we all know what she wants mum said and dad nodded and after a long, long pause, I nodded too and just hoped that they meant what I meant and that I could have safe walks home.
“This party is going to be such fun,” mum said. “And you are going to be the prettiest one there!”
I smiled but I was not feeling brave anymore. It seemed like a good idea when dad first mentioned it. You need to stop hiding and come out to show the world your true self. How about a party for all your class to show everyone who you really are? My elastic secret stretched further but I knew the girls would still be my friends but what about the boys? And even Robbie was invited even though I knew he would find it hard but he wanted to please dad and he was told to invite the boys because he could do the inviting with a smile and they would come to a Robbie will be there party and dad joked that I had spare tights for him so that he took some attention away from me and he said yuck and we all laughed because the thought of Robbie in tights was quite something to laugh about and mum said we don’t want the attention away from her, that is the point of the party. I agreed to it but as it got closer I felt more and more sick like I should have kept it as an Amy house secret where her dolls were enough and I could borrow her clothes and why had I insisted on having the checked dress that suited me so well and why did dad let me and I said dad, why did you let me have a dress and he said you looked so happy and alive when I saw you in town with burgundy tights and boots and a navy blue hoody and I said I didn’t see you and he said I know you were too busy seeing yourself but I was inside the sports shop looking out and I knew my Asher was happy and I want, all I want, is my Asher to be happy.
“Now for the earrings,” mum sang as she picked up the new earrings we had bought especially for the party and I was thrilled because we wanted this, so much and it was a special treat for Amy and me to have our ears pierced even though we were not yet ten but this is a very special occasion as it is the party when we show the whole class that I am really a girl and earrings are special so we have them. It did not hurt and I was not worried about pain but just about being spotted as a girl and I had a few looks at school the next day and a few boys sniggered and called me names but I was used to it and loved my new earrings and I was glad that my hair was getting longer. Amy was pleased because she got a treat too and she told me it was only fair because we were best friends and her parents knew she deserved this treat because she had helped the flamboyance with only being kind.
My boy clothes went away bit by bit and I did not really notice, I preferred the new ones and was sad when I had to put the school uniform on even though my trousers changed to ones with no pockets and my socks were better colours and I knew that I was wearing the same as Amy except when she wore skirts and tights to school and how I wished I could too so my dad said you can but you have to take the step and I thought there have been so many steps and he said you have to show the world who you are and so a party was a good idea and you can invite your friends and I only have girls as friends and he said maybe you don’t give the boys a chance, you need to show the boys who you really are and then they will see the true you and who knows? I know, the hits and the sneers but dad was right, I stayed clear of all boys as they scared me but Amy was not scared of boys and was even friends with some of them, they are alright once you get to know them and dad said you had to be fair to people and you had to be honest and if you were honest they might like you for who you really are and my headteacher, yes my headteacher agreed with my dad and he was invited to the party too and he told everyone that there would be a surprise announcement but they were in for a big surprise or I was, I was not sure.
Do you have a name? dad said and I was confused because of course I had a name, it was Asher and he said no, I mean a name that you use when you dress up and I didn’t know what he meant I was always Asher and Amy called me Asher and what did he mean anyway and he said I don’t know but maybe Katie is a better name and I looked at him to say why would Katie be a better name? All I wanted was to be me and to feel right inside and Asher was my name and only changes that made me feel right were wanted and I called him dad and not daddy because he was always dad to me and he had not changed and mum said daddy sometimes and I did not feel right calling him anything other than dad. Glad that’s sorted he said. I did not know what was sorted but if it was I was glad- I had enough to cope with with a party for my friends and my not friends in my class who would get a big shock or be pleased or be glad it was me not them that wore a dress but that is okay too because I was the one who wanted, really, really wanted to wear a dress and know that it was true.
“Ready?” asked mum and I was. Robbie and Dad joined us and mum said we should have a photo, like a big selfie. I looked at Robbie and thought he would hate to be in a photo with me but he was laughing and when he looked at me he said, “You look properly happy… like for the first time.”
I was. Properly happy. Properly me.
but mostly because of the things that happened to me.
Dad was besotted, happier than I had seen him for the two years since Mum left. To be honest he was even happier than I remember him being with mum around. So, my biggest worry was that she would lose interest and go, too. I didn’t want to put a foot wrong where she was concerned. I even put up with her son, Evan, a boy a year older than me and in the year above me at school. I knew who he was when we met. I’d seen him around school and everything but he was a bit too tough for my liking. He was part of the football crowd and not my sort of person. My friends were the song and dance crew. We made up dance routines during playtime in the small space that wasn’t taken over by the soccer players. Mostly, we kept out of the way of people like Evan.
At first, Dad went out with Gina to different places and I had a sitter. Then, Gina came to our house a few times before it was agreed that the four of us should go out and get to know each other. I wasn’t keen but I did not dare object; as I said, keeping dad happy was the most important thing. Evan was never horrible to me. I just didn’t understand him. Why would you want your head shaved? Who thinks that football tops are the height of fashion these days?
I knew my dad was keen to move on (and in) with Gina and I wondered if this meant I, too, would end up with a shaved head and a football top! Obviously, I had no idea that Gina had other plans for me!
The first weekend we spent together was at their house. When dad mentioned it, I was relieved. The thought of Evan sneering at my stuff wasn’t pleasant and I couldn’t face trying to hide all the posters of the musicals I loved for the duration of their stay. So, their house was easier and we rolled up one Friday night, had a take away and watched a film together. By the time we went to bed, I was so tired the fact that I was on a mattress on the floor in Evan’s room was no big deal. I could even say that Evan was quite nice to me; welcoming and everything.
The next morning I woke up to find that dad and Evan had gone out together. They went fishing! Dad had never taken me fishing. I said so.
“Oh, do you like fishing, Danny?” Gina asked.
“I’ve never been,” I replied trying not to sound sulky. In my mind I added “and my name is Daniel!”
“Evan loves it. ‘Loved it’ I should say. He hasn’t been for years. His dad used to take him so I’m so grateful that your daddy was so kind and took him this morning. Evan was thrilled at the thought.”
I hated the idea of fishing. On the other hand, here was dad spending time with Evan and abandoning me. She seemed to read my mind.
“I hope you don’t feel abandoned,” she said. “I was pleased, actually, as it gives us time to be together and get to know each other better.”
I gave my best available smile, which was honestly not that bright. I felt a bit bad at being resentful but it felt as if they had sneaked out on purpose.
Gina leaned over and brushed the hair out of my eyes. That felt strange. Dad wasn’t a touchy sort of person and it was ages since I had had a mum to do that sort of thing.
“Your hair is a lovely length,” She said to me.
“I’m due a haircut,” I said, not even sure when dad planned to take me. Compared with Evan, my hair was long but I didn’t think it was unusual. My hair covered my ears and it brushed over the front of my face but the style was the same as many boys at our school.
“But I love it long,” she replied. “I wish Evan would have a different hairstyle. I’m not keen on the bovver boy look but you know what boys are like!”
I couldn’t place why that made me feel odd, but my stomach stretched when she said it. I did know what boys were like; I was one. Why would she say that to me?
“I’m due a haircut,” I said again, meekly.
Gina sat up quickly, as if an idea had just struck her. “Well, if the boys are having fun, so should we!” I looked at her. Why did she say ‘boys’ like that as if we were excluded from their group? “We should go into town and have a good time. I’m going to spend some of your daddy’s money on you and me!”
I tried telling her that I called him dad rather than daddy but she was up and clearing things away. She didn’t seem to hear me.
“We can have a really good time together and have lunch out. The boys will be so jealous when they hear what a good time we’ve had.”
Once again, my stomach stretched.
“Why not get changed into something suitable and I’ll clear up!”
What wasn’t suitable about my jeans and hoody? I’d even picked out the hoody because I was convinced Evan would have one. Maybe, he would think I was just a bit cool. I had another shirt but not much else.
“I’ll get you something,” Gina said noticing my hesitation.
I followed her up the stairs and waited while she took out a pair of jeans and a grey top from Evan’s wardrobe. The top was like a vest but had silver stars across the top right hand side. They sort of faded into the grey and I only noticed them when the light caught them. I was surprised that Evan would wear something like this. It was a bit more song and dance than soccer but if it was his then it must be cool.
I didn’t expect that Gina would try and help me get dressed. I was ten after all. I tried to suggest that I could dress myself but Gina spoke over me and kept up a running commentary on the excitements of the day ahead. She was also clever. She pulled my trousers down while I was pulling off my hoody. I felt the draft before I realised what she had done. How glad was I that I didn’t need to change my underwear!
I struggled to get into the jeans and realised that they were very tight, skinny jeans I think they were called. Gina helped me pull them up and sort of tucked me in which involved her hand traveling around and patting down my underpants. She then did up the zip. It was as if I were a toddler!
She then pulled off my t shirt and pulled the grey top over me. It was longer than I thought and came further down than any t shirt or top I usually wore. I supposed that as Evan was taller than me his clothes would be bigger, except his jeans were a perfect fit. Boy, were they tight, though!
I tried to get a look at myself but Gina wasn’t finished with me. Out came a brush and she worked on my hair. I was like a model she worked on as she turned me this way and that. ! I tried to picture Evan wearing such clothes.
“Oh, he’s such a scruff,” Gina replied when I mentioned it. “Not like you. You’ve got style!”
I blushed. It was sort of affectionate the way she paid me so much attention, and the things she talked about were not things my dad thought were important. I’m not complaining, or rather I wasn’t at the time. Nobody had made a fuss of me like this before. Dad was good at checking that my school uniform was ready and that I wasn’t a mess; at the start of the day at least. He kept a close eye on the condition of my clothes because he did the laundry but he didn’t take a close interest in what I wore and he never combed my hair or dressed me.
So, with Gina showering me with attention, I began to think I could get to like it… and for sure, she knew more about fashion than my dad did.
Gina stood back and admired her work. Her smile seemed to grow, if that were possible. I was keen to look in the mirror but Gina was ahead of me there. With her hands on my shoulders she guided me over to her room and her full length mirror. What I saw made my stomach do another of those stretches.
It wasn’t actually panic but it wasn’t joy either. I was intrigued, but I was also worried. What if people I knew saw me? I looked again at the mirror. I looked so much younger and I was worried that people would think I was a girl. There was something feminine about the whole outfit. I really couldn’t see Evan dressed like this.
As we drove into town, I couldn’t help looking at myself in the wing mirror. On the one hand, I didn’t look very different but, on the other, there was something about the way Gina brushed my hair that made me look less of a boy.
“Do you think Evan will mind me wearing these?” I asked.
“He won’t mind at all!” Gina said. “He’ll be in his scruffy old clothes, just like your dad and here we are looking fabulous.”
I sunk back in the seat and hoped, again, that nobody I knew would see me.
The best thing to be said about shopping in town was that I survived. We went in and out of clothes shops and Gina pulled item after item off the shelves to show me.
“Look at this Danny,” she would say holding up a girly top that I couldn’t help thinking was much to small for her.
Why she thought I would be interested I don’t know? But I followed her into every clothes shop and believe me she went into every clothes shop! I hadn’t spent much time in these shops before, mostly because they were for women and girls. I spent ages trailing behind Gina wondering while she didn’t buy anything. Then in one shop, she spotted a necklace that she said would be just the thing for me. I wasn’t so sure and I backed away a bit but she insisted, paid for it and put it on me there in the shop. I couldn’t help but think it just added to a more girly look. I knew Evan wore jewelery because I had seen a teacher tell him off about it at school.
I couldn’t work out why he looked so cool and I looked… well, more girly.
I was feeling more self- conscious as we stepped out onto the street. I kept looking around to see if anyone I knew could see me. I was dreading being spotted and I was sure people would wonder why a boy was dressed as I was. Gina hurried me up. Honestly, her enthusiasm never wavered. I was almost relieved when we got off the street into the next shop but then I had a shock. Emily, a friend of mine from school and one of our song and dance crew was stood in front of me. I did a short jump with glee when I saw her; our usual way of greeting each other. Then, I remembered what I was wearing and I withdrew a little.
“Hi, Daniel,” she trilled. I gave a half-hearted wave. She was carrying a purple long sleeved top on a hanger. It had ‘Keep Calm and Boogie On’ written across the front.
“Look what I’ve found,” she said.
“Fantastic,” I replied, trying to think of something to say. “Those words are just right for you.”
“All our gang should have one. We could all dance wearing this as a uniform!”
Emily was taking a careful look at me as she spoke. I could tell she wanted to ask why I was wearing what I was wearing. Instead, she asked me why I was in a shop selling girls’ clothes. I pointed over to Gina and then explained who she was when the puzzled look came over her face.
“Evan’s mum?” she whispered. “What, bone head Evan?”
“Shush,” I said. “She’s really nice. She’s looking after me while my dad is out fishing with Evan.” I could tell that this information was sinking in. “My dad and Evan’s mum- they are an item!”
“Evan’s going to be your brother?” Her voice was rising each time she spoke.
“It hasn’t got that far yet,” I reassured her. “Anyway, she has been kind. She let me borrow these clothes of Evan’s.”
Emily looked me up and down again. “Trust me, those clothes aren’t Evan’s.”
“They are,” I assured her. She leaned over and read the label of my grey top.
“They’re not!” she said. I was going to argue some more but Gina came over and Emily introduced herself. Gina gushed over Emily’s style which I really hadn’t noticed before. When she looked at the top in her hands she turned to me.
“We need to get you one of these,” she stated.
I felt the blood rush to my face. I was going to protest but Gina was halfway across the shop with Emily in tow, obviously enjoying herself.
Ten minutes later, with Emily and Gina having said goodbye at the shop exit, I was the proud owner of a red top of the same design as Emily’s from ‘Miss Second Glance’. Worse I was holding the bag which showed everyone where I had bought it. I tried handing it over to Gina but she insisted I carry my purchase, which I did all over town.
We stopped twice to say hello to friends of Evan’s that Gina knew. Each time we stopped to talk, she stood slightly behind me with her hands on my shoulders. I knew the boys from school but I had nothing to do with them. They were all the soccer playing tough guys of our school. I could see they were amused to see me in my skinny jeans and grey top and things weren’t helped by the way she called me ‘Danny’.
Dad never called me that!
It was agony, standing there with me holding one arm with the other, hoping the ground would open and swallow me up. The boys smirked at me but didn’t dare say anything in front of Evan’s mum. That would probably wait for school on Monday!
Over coffee, after several more shops during which time I became the owner of a new bracelet which I didn’t want but couldn’t seem to stop Gina buying, she told me she had one more surprise for me. I played with the bracelet. Gina insisted I wear it and I wondered what else she had in store for me. I saw her looking down at my trainers.
“What?” I asked.
“Well,” she replied. “They aren’t the best thing for that outfit.”
Maybe it was the word ‘outfit’ that got to me, or the way I seemed to have become a walking doll of her but I was becoming fed up.
“No,” I said, folding my arms. “I like these trainers. They are comfortable.”
Gina’s face fell for the first time that day. She turned away from me and sipped her coffee. I felt awkward. My stomach did those stretches again. I hated the idea of getting more stuff that made me feel less like my usual self but I was desperate that I didn’t spoil things with Gina and risk her leaving dad. Her face had gone from sunny and smiley to stern and icy.
“Okay,” I said, resigning myself to more fuss and shopping. She immediately brightened.
“With that look, you need Converse,” she said. I practically raced her to the shoe shop; not because I agreed but because my only hope of getting home was to go along with her as quickly as possible.
“They’re all uni-sex really but these are the favourites with the girls,” said the sales assistant handing over several boxes. I blushed but I noticed that Gina didn’t correct her and I was sort of glad. I couldn’t explain to myself what was happening so I wouldn’t be able to start explaining to this stranger that I was a boy out of his depth.
I chose red ones. I needed to avoid the pink and silver ones that the assistant was telling Gina were most on trend; red seemed the best choice. Gina insisted I wore them. So, when I left the shop, I had not only clothes of a type I had never worn before and a necklace and bracelet that I was oh so aware of but also the flash of red every time I took a step. I think it was true to say that I wasn’t the same boy I was when I woke up that morning.
The walk back to the car was agony. At every shop window we passed I got a glimpse of what looked like a young girl walking past with her mum. I tried to walk a bit taller and to emphasize my ‘boyness’ but I wasn’t fooling anyone. I couldn’t help but wonder what my dad would say.
I thought he might be a bit upset.
I was wrong!
He didn’t notice how different I looked.
At first, he was too busy telling Gina what a great day he and Evan had had and Evan kept butting in on his stories adding details. Worse, dad beamed at Evan every time he added some pathetic little detail which, to be honest, was very boring but dad treated everything Evan said as funny or important or both. The trip had obviously been a big success, except that he seemed to have forgotten he had a son he had left behind with his girlfriend.
“Why didn’t you take me?” I asked, but that got lost in the face of another boring anecdote from Evan. Gina told them what a great day we had had and looked to me to add some details. I didn’t have much to say but Gina carried on regardless, except in her version I was the one who insisted on going into every clothes shop in town. Dad would have known that was rubbish but he listened intently to Gina tell him how fussy I was about what I chose. I had to show off my necklace, bracelet, red top and new Converse.
I watched to see dad’s reaction. Was he annoyed? Did he think it was weird?
At one point he said I looked great but, apart from that, he didn’t seem bothered. Neither did Evan. They were only interested in fish!
When dad and Gina started cooking, Evan and me were told to go and watch television. I didn’t know what to say to him and he didn’t talk to me. What did we have in common?
I wanted to get changed back into my own clothes but I thought he might be insulted so, instead, I said “Thanks for letting me wear your clothes.”
Evan turned his head slowly and stared at me. The disgust was clear to see.
“Are you having a laugh?” he said, slowly.
“Your mum suggested I wear them,” I replied weakly.
He kept staring at me. “They’re not mine,” he said, slowly to make sure I understood. “Why would I wear girly clothes?”
I sat up and hugged my arms. “Your mum said…” I started. I didn’t continue.
“What?” he demanded. I hesitated. I wasn’t sure. She hadn’t actually said they were his clothes. On the other hand they came from his wardrobe. Perhaps he was embarrassed and that’s why he denied they were his.
I decided not to say anything else but sneaked upstairs, instead.
In the bedroom, with the door shut, I pulled the grey top with silver stars over my head and read the label. ‘Miss Sparkle’ it said. That was why Emily had been adamant that it didn’t belong to Evan. I was sure too, now. I put it back on and then decided to look at the label on the jeans. I only had to pull them half way down to see the ‘Princess’ label clearly.
I had been walking around town in girl’s jeans and a girl’s top!
I walked slowly downstairs where a happy family scene was forming. Gina and dad had joined Evan to watch television. They were laughing at whatever was on. Gina sat across the room and dad sat with Evan on the sofa. I took the chair opposite Gina and looked at them all. I was trying to work out what was going on. I found that playing with the necklace on my mouth helped and I pulled up my legs and folded them under me to help me think. I pushed some strands of hair behind my ears and let the bracelet roll down my arm slightly.
Something was going on.
she dressed me in clothes she took from Evan’s wardrobe.
I woke on Sunday morning wondering where I was. The mattress on the floor of Evan’s room was comfortable enough but I was aware of another person in the room breathing. I was used to a bedroom of my own and with only me and dad at home this felt odd. At least dad hadn’t sneaked off with Evan again leaving me with his girlfriend.
I liked Gina. She was lovely to me; very warm and friendly, even if her son was one of the tough guys I avoided at school; all soccer and big headed cool guys. I spent a lot of time with my own gang. We spent most of our time working on dance routines and having fun. They were girls but they were friendly and we never fell out.
So it was strange to be sharing a room with Evan, the sort of boy I avoided. Not that he noticed me! His mum was the reason we were here. She and my dad were an item and she was the best thing to happen to my dad for the two years since my mum left. He was laughing and joking and smiling more. She was really good for him and I was desperate to make sure they stayed together.
Shame she had a bonehead for a son!
These thoughts were going through my head when Gina breezed in. “Morning everyone,” she sang. Evan turned over groaning with his pillow hiding his head.
“Ignore the grump,” she said to me. “Time to get up Danny.”
Now, I groaned. Why did she have to call me Danny? What was wrong with my proper name? Dad called me Daniel, all my friends did. They managed it.
Gina mistook my groan for an Evan style one.
“There’s a whole day ahead,” she said as she pulled my duvet away. “Oh, Danny, are you sure you are okay on the mattress?”
I didn’t want to annoy Evan any more than I did just by being in his room so I told her I was fine. She let me go for a wash in the bathroom. As I cleaned my teeth, I wondered why I had been woken up and Evan got to stay in bed.
When I padded back to the bedroom, Gina was waiting for me sitting on the end of Evan’s bed. He didn’t stir. I hovered, hoping she would go and let me get dressed but she had other plans. She held out some underpants. I looked around, not sure where to go to get changed. Gina smiled as she saw I was shy and moved in on me.
“Come on, little Danny,” she said, lifting my pyjama top over my head. “We’ve got plans for today.” I could feel myself blush as she pulled down my pyjama trousers leaving me naked. My hands shot in front of me automatically.
Gina was trying hard not to let her amusement show but I was embarrassed anyway. She handed me the underpants and I pulled them up as quickly as I could which wasn’t very quick because I tried to do it one handed with my other hand trying to hide my boy bits.
Gina went to Evan’s wardrobe and brought out a pair of dungarees and a white long sleeved t- shirt.
I pulled on the t- shirt. She held the dungarees out in front of me for me to step into. It felt that I didn’t have any choice so I put one leg in and then the other and she pulled them up and sort of tucked me in which involved her hand travelling around and patting down my shirt. She lifted the bib and did up the straps. Several of my friends wore dungarees but this was my first time. I knew they were worn by boys but they tended to be much younger boys. Maybe, they were coming back into fashion with boys of Evan’s age. She definitely got them from his wardrobe. I knew I would have to look at the labels later.
Gina picked up a brush and started brushing my hair. This attention was a bit flattering, I didn’t hate it but I wasn’t used to it and I couldn’t help but think that Gina obviously thought I was much younger than her son.
“I’m nearly eleven,” I said to her, hoping she would understand what I was getting at. Gina smiled at that but carried on preening me. I looked at Evan lazing in bed and he smirked back. Gina was much too busy making sure every hair was in place to see what he was smirking about. When she finished, she threw the hair brush onto the bed.
“You could do with using a brush occasionally,” she said followed by “breakfast in ten minutes,” as she left the room.
I stood where she left me, feeling confused. Wasn’t she going to dress Evan? Why did she fuss over me but expect him to sort himself out? Evan obviously found the whole thing amusing. He threw the brush at me. “No chance!” he said.
I didn’t know what to do next. I felt a bit funny about my dad seeing me dressed like this.
Evan next threw his pyjama top at me. “I need to get dressed” he said. I looked at him. “Go on, get out” he continued. “I don’t want to get undressed in front of a girl!”
“Don’t call me a girl!” I said, stung. “I’m a boy!”
“You think?”
“Well, I’m wearing your clothes,” I tried.
“Yes, of course,” he said climbing out of the bed and pushing past me. “I always wear pretty things.” He did a ballerina twirl and blew a kiss at me, then left the room. I sat on the bed trying to work out what was going on. I tried to read some labels but I couldn’t twist around far enough and I wasn’t very good at dealing with dungarees. I was twisting around when Gina reappeared. This time she was holding a red cardigan.
“I forgot this,” she said pulling it onto one arm and then the other. “There.” She stepped back to admire her work, holding onto my arms as she did so.
“Is this Evan’s?” I decided to be direct.
“No,” she laughed. “He doesn’t wear lovely clothes, like you.”
“I don’t either really,” I tried. “I’ve never worn dungarees before.”
Gina smiled at me. “Well, you look fabulous!” I blushed and my stomach did its now familiar stretch.
“Come with me,” she said, taking me by the hand. She took me into her room and the full length mirror. “Look at you!” she said effusively. “Aren’t you a pretty thing!” I blushed but it did feel good to have such praise.
“But dad…” I started.
“Oh, you leave your dad to me,” she said and then she kissed me on the cheek and hugged me.
After she left, I felt my cheek where she had kissed me. It was such a nice feeling. I pulled the cardigan around me and hugged myself.
At breakfast, dad didn’t mention the way I was dressed. In any case, he was too busy talking soccer with Evan. I didn’t know that dad even liked football. He had never talked to me about it, thank goodness. I couldn’t help think that my dad was ignoring me so I tried to join in.
“I like Chelsea...” I began.
“Chelsea who?” Gina asked as she breezed by.
“That girl on the television?” dad asked?
I hesitated. I didn’t have any knowledge I could use and Evan was back in straight away talking about some player or team or tactic and that seemed to be enough for dad to give him back his full attention. Then, as Gina joined us at the table, the talk turned to the day ahead and I realised that dad and Evan were planning to go to see a match… without me!
“Can I come?” I asked.
They all looked at me as if I had said something shocking. Evan looked unhappy at the thought of spending any time at all with me. Dad just looked confused but Gina looked hurt. I waited.
“Well,” dad started. “If you like…” I didn’t like at all but the idea that dad was going off again without me wasn’t a nice one either.
“We’ll have fun,” Gina added. “I’ve got plans for us, too!” She looked a bit worried, like I would back out and the thought of watching stupid boys or men run around after a ball wasn’t thrilling.
“Okay,” I said and watched as smiles came to all three of them but for quite different reasons.
When we were alone, I leaned across to Evan and said, “You owe me!” I could tell I surprised him and, at first, he didn’t know what to say but then he shrugged and said “Have fun, little girl.” He got up to go.
“I’m a boy!” I shot back.
He came really close and, at first, I thought he was going to hit me. “Bet you’re not by the time we get back!” he whispered in my ear. He left the room smirking.
I sat still, taking in what he said. I wrapped the cardigan closer around me and hugged myself.
I was still sitting at the breakfast table when dad came in, coat on and football scarf around his neck, to say goodbye.
“Where did you get that scarf?” I asked.
“Evan leant it to me,” he replied. “He had two in his wardrobe.” He ruffled my hair and left.
“Must be quite a wardrobe,” I said to myself.
I decided to sulk. It was my best option. I don’t know if Gina noticed or not. If she did, she didn’t let it stop her breezing around the place. She went from room to room while I sat still brooding on being abandoned by my dad. Eventually she put her head round the door. Her smile was as wide as ever.
“Well, come on then!” she said. “These cakes won’t cook themselves!”
And that was the start of a morning of fun in the kitchen. To start with, I grunted answers to her questions or shrugged my shoulders to signal that I was in a sulk. She didn’t react but passed me ingredients, showered me with praise for the skill I showed at cooking and won me round with her endless enthusiasm and positivity. By the time the cakes were out of the oven I had forgotten my sulk, forgotten that dad had gone to a match with Evan and just enjoyed being around Gina.
It was a new and refreshing experience. Dad and I didn’t do much together, other than the weekly shop. His role was more one of checking that I was okay, whether in my solitary pursuits or over homework. He made sure I had clean clothes for school, enough pocket money to spend, and that I did not have anything bothering me. The idea that we should spend time side by side doing something fun was alien to both of us. Gina awoke in me a need to be a child with a parent ready and willing to give me their time. I know that my dad was concerned about me, especially since mum left, but he didn’t always notice me. Gina did.
I thought the cakes were for dad and Evan but Gina had other plans. She had invited some friends over. Girls, they were actually daughters of friends of hers. As she explained, Evan didn’t know many girls. My stomach stretched and Evan’s words came back to me.
“They’re coming over to play,” she explained.
“But I don’t know them,” I said, trying not to sound too cross.
“That’s why they are coming,” Gina said, laughing. “So you can get to know them. They like doing the same things as you.”
“What things?” I asked, immediately alert.
“Making up dances, things like that.”
I waited, watching Gina. It was true. That is what I did with friends at school but who had told her?
“I do other things,” I said, lamely.
“Good…” said Gina, the smile never leaving her face. “…so do they.”
Jasmine and Freya turned out to be good fun. I hadn’t met them before, they didn’t go to the same school as me and Evan. I thought this was probably a good thing. The way I was dressed, it was best if I kept the two parts of my world away from each other, or I would have some explaining to do at school. In any case, I was back to sulking. I decided that I would not be rude or anything, dad would be mad at me, but I wouldn’t be keen and ready to do whatever they wanted to do. Gina and Freya both wore ‘Keep Calm and Boogie On’ tops. I very nearly burst out with “I’ve got one of those!” but stopped myself. I noticed, too, that they were well co-ordinated. Freya’s emerald green top matched her converse and Jasmine had yellow converse to go with her yellow top. As both girls had very short denim shorts on, it seemed they had discussed clothes before arriving.
Straight away both girls suggested dancing to the music they brought along. Normally, this would have suited me but I had decided I needed to go back to sulking to make a point. I wasn’t going to be rude or anything, dad would be mad at me, but I wouldn’t be keen and ready to do whatever they wanted to do.
“You go ahead, I’ll sit here,” I told them. I picked up a magazine to hide behind then realised it was Gina’s hairstyle monthly. I put it down again and stared out of the window. The girls carried on anyway. Jasmine was the better dancer, I could see that immediately. She didn’t have many good ideas for dance moves, though, and was soon struggling. Freya didn’t have any idea; no rhythm, no sense of movement, it was painful to watch.
I sat it out for as long as possible. Gina came in with cakes and drinks but didn’t say anything. I tried to look disinterested but what with Freya’s lack of rhythm and Jasmine’s limited choreography I was finding it hard. Before too long, I was up showing Jasmine a few moves she hadn’t considered.
“Oh, wow Danny!” she exclaimed. “Where did you learn that?”
I was about to say it was natural but thought that was a little big headed so I said “at school” instead.
Jasmine and Freya tried out the moves and, to help Freya really, I joined in, showing her how to do it. When she followed me she could just about get the rhythm. I found myself moving to the beat with encouraging glances to Freya and, after one run through, we all cheered when it all went well. We giggled and fell about. Then I noticed Gina in the doorway.
“That was brilliant guys,” she said. “I should film it.”
I wasn’t sure about that but the girls were keen. Jasmine looked at me and said, “What a shame we aren’t dressed alike. I’ve got a spare top like this I could lend you. Shall I go home and get it? I’ll be five minutes.”
Gina looked at me and I reluctantly said, “No problem! I’ve got one, too. Gina bought it for me yesterday.” Gina beamed.
“I put it in Evan’s wardrobe,” she said. “And don’t forget your red converse. Danny chose converse and top to match” she explained to the girls as I headed for the stairs. She told them all about our shopping trip yesterday. She made it sound like I was a clothes fanatic.
I opened Evan’s wardrobe and was hit straight away with a clear message that Evan was a boys’ boy. All his clothes shouted masculine at me. There was a lot of stuff with football motifs on and the rest seemed to be camouflage. The colours were so dull. But, there on a shelf on the left hand side, was the red top Gina had bought me yesterday. It was the brightest thing there. I lifted it out and noticed the denim shorts underneath. I knew they weren’t Evan’s and I knew they would match the ones Jasmine and Freya had.
I picked them up and waited for my stomach stretches to calm down a bit. I unbuckled my dungaree straps and changed tops. I pulled up the straps to hook myself back in when I realised the words disappeared behind the bib-front. That, and the fact that the music had started again downstairs decided me and I stepped out of the dungarees and pulled up the shorts as quickly as I could.
They were so short!
It was like wearing boxer shorts except that they were much tighter.
I slipped on the red converse and raced back downstairs where the girls were well into the rehearsal and Gina had the camera ready. I slipped straight into the routine and immediately we were laughing and joking. Our arms were going up in the air, around our heads and sweeping in front of us. We jumped, skipped and sashayed around. Gina recorded it all.
It was such fun!
When we had drunk some more and eaten more cakes, which Freya and Jasmine complimented me on by the way, we watched the recording of our dances. We giggled when we saw ourselves and made fun of each other and the way we moved although both girls told me quite seriously that I was the better dancer.
I was sorry to see them go and surprised that a whole afternoon had passed by. Dad and Evan returned soon after full of talk about the soccer. They went on and on. I was quite pleased when Gina shut them up and said we, too, had had fun. She produced the cakes we made. Dad was complimentary but Evan didn’t say a thing even though he stuffed his face. Then, we watched the recordings and Gina and dad said our dancing was great. Dad seemed genuinely surprised by how good a dancer I was. Gina was full of compliments.
“Look how graceful you are,” she said pointing out my arm movements. “Freya and Jasmine could learn a lot from you.”
I laughed all over again watching our dancing, especially as I could hear the shrieks we kept making in-between the moves. Then, the words from Evan came back to me and the smile died on my face. I glanced over at him and he raised his eyebrows, ‘told you’ he seemed to say.
I looked again with different eyes. We looked like three girls dancing along. We looked alike, dancing there. Freya had longer hair but Jasmine and I had similar lengths and, what with the bouncing up and down our styles looked so similar. It dawned on me that we had been dancing to songs with titles such as ‘Sisters’ and ‘You Go, Girl’. I hadn’t thought about the words when we were dancing. I had just danced.
Now, I wondered how I had let myself get sucked in to wearing girls’ shorts and a top from a girls’ clothes shop. I felt self- conscious and tried to hide my long legs by pulling them up under me as I sat but that gesture, too, made me look girly.
When dinner was served, I was once again in dungarees and the red cardigan. I chose them as the better option even though I had checked before putting them back on that, yes they had come from the ‘Miss Second Glance’ store. Worse, when I stepped out of the shorts in the privacy of the bedroom I noticed for the first time that the pastel yellow underpants were not for boys at all. In the fuss to hide my embarrassment that morning, I had missed that fact completely.
Evan was right.
Nothing I wore was for a boy. Nothing I had worn all day was for a boy!
It was only back home with dad, with school every day, that I thought back on the weekend and decided I must have been mistaken about the girl clothes. Maybe I had built it up in my mind to be something it wasn’t. Maybe Gina had borrowed clothes for me so that I wouldn’t feel so awkward and out of place when the girls came round. These thoughts went around my head all week, walking to school, walking home, drifting into daydreams when I was watching television with dad. The further we got from the weekend, the more I convinced myself that I must have been mistaken about the clothes.
In any case, Emily didn’t say anything and she had seen me in town on Saturday. Perhaps they were boy clothes after all. To help me think, I played with the necklace I wore all the time now. It helped. Jewellery was banned from school, so I kept it hidden. At home, I would let it play through my mouth when I was trying to figure things out.
I still had nagging doubts, though. For starters I had a pair of girls’ knickers in my bedroom, stuffed under my mattress. I was so embarrassed about everything when we got home that Sunday night that I did not dare put them in the laundry. What would dad say? I had changed into my jeans and hoody before leaving Gina’s, ‘so that she I can do the laundry ready for next week’, she said. I forgot about the knickers or rather did not want to be naked in their house again so it was only when we got home that I had the problem about what to do with them.
Dad did not mention one word about the way I was dressed for most of the weekend. That just added to my confusion but also made me wonder if I had got it wrong. On the journey home all he talked about was the fun he and Evan had had. At one point he turned to me and asked,
“You don’t mind me spending time with him, do you?” I was going to point out that I was his son and not Evan but that would sound sulky and anyway he didn’t wait for an answer but told me, instead, that it was good for me to get to know Gina better.
That night, getting undressed, I stuffed the knickers under my mattress and collapsed on my bed. Best to forget it ever happened, I thought.
The next weekend was already planned. Once again, we would spend the whole time with Gina and Evan at their house. I really liked Gina and could tolerate her son but I still felt strange about things. I was determined that I wouldn’t be abandoned by dad again.
“We will spend time together won’t we?” I asked.
He smiled. “Of course we will! But…” I waited for the rest. “This weekend is a busy one for me and I have a big project on.”
I sighed. He looked across and continued. “So, I’m so grateful that Gina has got lots planned for you and…” He made a trumpet noise. “…I get to come home to you all with meals cooked. Just like a family.” He looked over again, a bit more concerned in case he had gone too far with that last bit.
“Doesn’t Evan spend any time with his dad?”
Dad looked at me again. “Evan’s dad died, years ago. I thought you knew.”
“Why would I know?” I asked him, feeling a bit bad for Evan.
“Well, I don’t know… you go to the same school. I just thought you knew.”
Now I would have to be nicer to him or I would feel rubbish. Dad telling me it happened years ago didn’t make much difference either. Nor the fact that Gina had had several boy friends since then. Then dad really hit home with, “but we are the first to stay over. Gina thinks this is serious… and so do I.” He left that hanging in the air.
Gina, Evan, Dad; I was trying to please everybody. Gina was lovely, her usual warm self. When she greeted us on Friday evening, I realised that I had missed her. Her hug was just what I needed after a long day at school. We had spoken over the ‘phone during the week but she and dad had agreed that it was best to keep visits to weekends so that our routines were kept the same. Anyway, once we were there, I was pleased, and I even tried a smile at Evan, who looked unimpressed.
I wondered if I would have to get changed out of my school uniform but nobody said anything. It was the first thing out of dad’s mouth every day after school, even on days when I was already out of uniform and in play clothes; almost as if he had to say it anyway. Gina didn’t, though and I half thought she would have something arranged for me. The fact that she hadn’t, made me wonder again if I had misread last week. Maybe, I had exaggerated everything.
Bedtime put paid to that! We were watching a comedy on the television when Gina announced that I needed to get ready for bed.
“What about Evan?” I shot back. Having no brothers or sisters I was amazed by how quickly I learned the rules of fairness and advantage.
“He’s a year older than you,” said dad without moving. Gina meanwhile was at the foot of the stairs and was gesturing for me to follow. She also had her ‘mother’s waiting’ look which worked every time with Evan. Had it been my dad, I would have made a fuss but I didn’t feel that I could with Gina. I followed her showing as much of a sulk as I dared.
Upstairs, Gina sent me into the bathroom. At least she didn’t try and wash me as well! When I returned to the bedroom, she had made up a bed on the mattress on the floor.
“We must do something about a proper bed soon,” she said. I didn’t tell her that I had my own bed at home because the thought had only popped into my head when she pulled off my school sweatshirt and started undressing me.
“I can do it,” I said but the sound was muffled under my clothes as layer after layer came off. She had my shirt over my head without undoing the buttons.
“I have to undo the buttons,” I said, blushing because I knew that dad moaned about that all the time. She handed me my shirt but then pulled my trousers down while I had my hands full.
“Step out,” she trilled and I stepped sideways. I fell back onto Evan’s bed which allowed her to take off my socks. Honestly, it was more than I could cope with. Had Evan been undressed like this at ten years old?
“Arms up,” she continued and she lowered what looked like a T shirt down over my arms and head. I thought dad had packed for this weekend.
“I’ve got pyjamas somewhere,” I said. Gina, smiling, ignored this comment as she did all my comments which didn’t fit in with her way of organising me.
“Stand up,” she said and the nightie fell down and around my knees.
I didn’t know what to say. I looked down and held out my arms to get the full effect. It had white short sleeves, which is why I thought it was a T shirt, and the rest was a pastel blue. There was a cartoon baboon on the front with words which I couldn’t make out at first but then realised it said ‘Best Buddies’. At least that wasn’t girly but it was still a nightshirt, or nightgown, or nightie!
What was she thinking of?
“Step forward,” Gina continued and I stepped into the pastel blue slippers she had placed in front of me. “There,” she smiled. She picked up the hair brush and gestured for me to take my place on the stool so that she could brush my hair. I sat silently, trying to think my way through what I was going to do about this situation. Her brushing was so gentle and she hummed as she worked. My hair wasn’t that long but it was much longer than normal. It covered my ears and I had to brush it out of my eyes from time to time. Now, with Gina slowly gliding the brush through my hair, I thought about when dad had come home one day, having had his hair cut. We always had our hair cut together at the same place.
When I questioned him, he told me he decided to get a cut on the way home from work.
“You work from home, dad,” I reminded him.
“So?” he replied and that had been that. It was about the time that he first mentioned a new person he had met called Gina. I had forgotten about my hair, until now, and wondered why dad hadn’t taken me for a cut the next week like he promised.
I also wondered what dad would say about this nightwear. I knew Evan would smirk but maybe I should say out loud that as it came from his wardrobe, it was obviously his! I knew, even as I thought it, that words such as those would be weak against a boy as tough as Evan.
Gina held out a pastel blue towelling dressing gown for me to wear. She wrapped it around me and then hugged me. I felt like a cotton wool ball!
“Little Danny, you are so cute!” she said smothering her face in the towelling. I giggled at that but only reluctantly followed her downstairs. I grew more self-conscious the further down the stairs I got. How could I walk back in the room in all this girlery? I sat on the bottom step of the stairs listening to the scene in the next room. Everything about Gina’s house was homely and welcoming. All of us watching television, food served with love, her smile. It was a complete change for me and dad. And sitting there I could hear how happy dad was. It was just too hard to walk in the room.
I sat with my head in my hands wondering what to do next. I looked at my feet in the pastel blue slippers. I didn’t wear slippers at home, neither did dad. I lifted one up to read the label but couldn’t find one. Perhaps they are for a boy! I knew as I thought it that it wasn’t true but the whole situation needed thinking through. In the room, I heard my favourite television programme had started.
It was Evan who came to my rescue. He appeared in the doorway and looked me up and down. I could tell he was taking in the sight of me dressed in girls’ nightwear and wondering what to say. However, he didn’t make fun of me but instead came behind me and sat on the step above the one I was on.
“You coming in?”
I shrugged.
He didn’t say anything more but reached out and tickled me under the arms. I giggled. I was so ticklish there! He didn’t stop but carried on so I had to move away to be free. He didn’t give up and in the end I backed away into the room, laughing and almost screaming with delight when he carried on.
So it was that I made my entrance and soon everyone was laughing and having fun and it ended with me snuggled up between Gina and my dad, watching television and eating snacks, all the stuff dad didn’t let me have at home. It was great.
Evan sat across the room but he and dad kept up a running commentary about the things on the television and I just sat still enjoying the warmth and closeness of the pair either side of me.
When Evan had to get ready for bed, I had them both to myself and Gina hugged me into her side where I rested my head. Evan appeared in his dressing gown, pyjamas and slippers looking every inch the soccer player he was. Honestly, could he not wear a single item of clothing without a football stitched on it somewhere?
I had to go to bed an hour earlier than Evan but I didn’t complain.
I lay in bed thinking about the evening and how protected I had felt. Wearing the girls’ nightwear had seemed unimportant. Dad hadn’t mentioned it and even Evan had been sort of nice.
I didn’t hear Evan come to bed.
I had drifted off, feeling content.
I sank back down and sighed.
Evan was up before me on the Saturday morning. ‘Football practice,’ he said when I asked; as if I should know his usual routine! Dad had gone off early to meet a client so I stayed in the makeshift bed. I knew Gina would be up to dress me and I was sort of looking forward to the attention. Evan was busying himself around the room, collecting things he needed. He went to his wardrobe and then whistled.
I sat up. “What?”
He turned and looked at me with a grin on his face. “Somebody will be wearing tights today!” he sang. He threw the packet of black tights over to me. A girl on the front of the packet was modelling the look. I sank back down and sighed.
“I won’t wear them,” I said, more to convince myself than to tell Evan.
“Bet you will be,” he replied.
“I won’t!” I sat up again. “Anyway, they are in your wardrobe so they must be yours,” I tried.
He laughed. “It’s amazing what I find in this wardrobe these days.” He looked up as if the thought had just struck him. “In fact, it has been since you came!” He laughed again.
I threw the tights back at him. He placed them back on a shelf. “They are here for when you need them.” He grinned.
“Bet I don’t wear them,” I mumbled.
“Bet you do!”
After he left, I wondered whether I should get up or wait for Gina. I went to the bathroom and washed and returned to find Gina waiting for me. My stomach did one of its, now usual, stretches and I realised that I was glad that she hadn’t forgotten me. Then I remembered the tights.
“Can I wear the dungarees?” I said straight away.
Gina beamed. “Of course, sweetie,” she said.
She pulled off my nightie and handed me some underwear which I managed to put on without too much fuss, taking care to keep private parts of me private.
Gina went over to Evan’s wardrobe and pulled out a pink t shirt. It was plain, which was a relief and Gina helped me into it and then held open the dungarees for me to step into.
I once again sat on the stool while Gina brushed my hair. This part of the morning was my favourite. She brushed my hair so lovingly that I almost wished she could do it before school as well. At home, during the week, I had combed my own hair thinking about Gina as I did so.
The sight of me in the mirror once again made my stomach stretch. It was more girl than boy looking back and I wondered why I couldn’t wear my normal stuff. At least I had avoided the tights, though, and I smiled to myself at the thought of Evan’s face later when I told him. Gina mistook my smile, though, and hugged me.
“I’m so glad you have style,” she said. “You look fabulous and I can tell you think so too!”
I didn’t feel fabulous. On the other hand, strange as I felt, I was pleased with the attention from Gina. She produced some blue Vans for me to wear. “Don’t tell Evan, he’ll be jealous” she said. I felt a bit better knowing that, at least, the shoes I was wearing were ones Evan would wear.
Shopping at the supermarket was on the cards for the morning. Evan hates shopping, apparently, and only goes when he has to but Gina loved having someone to talk to and share things with when going up and down aisles. She told me all this as we shopped. I didn’t mind it. I went all the time with dad and I could spot a bargain.
This morning, though, I enjoyed it more than normal. Gina’s enthusiasm for everything rubbed off and we had great fun deciding what to cook over the weekend. The only dark cloud was the fact that I spotted boy and then later a girl from my class shopping with their mums. They both spotted me as well. I could tell from the way they both eyed me up and down they were taking in my pink t shirt, dungarees and blue Vans. I would be talked about at school on Monday for sure.
After lunch, Jasmine and Freya came over. I was thrilled to see them. We jumped up and down and hugged in the hallway for ages, it was so good to see each other after a week at school.
“Oh, we should have worn our dungarees,” Freya said when we had calmed down. “We could all look alike again.”
I noticed they were wearing black tights with their denim shorts and identical white t shirts with a cartoon girl dancing, her arms high in the air.
“Do you two co-ordinate clothing the whole time?” I joked.
“Of course,” they replied.
“And…” Jasmine announced, “We included you, Danny.” She produced an identical white t shirt with the cartoon girl on it.
Gina arrived with drinks and biscuits. This was fantastic. I never had friends over and here was Gina making it all friendly and cosy for us.
“I’ll change into shorts and then we’ll be the same,” I said.
Gina looked up. “But you wanted to wear dungarees,” she said.
“I know but we want to look the same,” I replied. “It looks better when we are dancing.” I looked at my friends. “We are dancing aren’t we?”
They laughed. “Try stopping us.”
I raced up the stairs, unhooking my dungarees as I went. In Evan’s room, I reached into the wardrobe and found the shorts I wore last week. They were exactly the same as Freya’s and Jasmine’s. Then I spotted the tights. I hesitated. We would all be exactly the same if I wore them. On the other hand, that was a step too far. I put them back and headed back down the stairs. The music had started. I could see they had started a routine and were already trying out moves. They looked great. That decided me. I raced back upstairs and found the tights, took them out of their packet and dropped my shorts.
Gina appeared. “Need any help?” she asked. I had worn tights in a school show when I was much younger but I was inexperienced in putting them on. I was grateful that Gina helped me get them straight and pulled up snug and tight. “They are opaque,” she explained, not that I really knew what that meant. I just liked the way they made my legs look longer and they were so comfortable.
Back downstairs, we danced and jumped around and were so good together. Gina recorded us again but only after we had practiced enough to be really good. Then, exhausted, we sat around and talked. My legs dangled over the side of the sofa and I got to admire the way I looked in the tights. Freya said that I was lucky to be staying with Evan because he was a ‘total cutie’. I couldn’t agree with her but didn’t want to say anything rude about him in case Gina heard.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Jasmine asked me suddenly.
“No!” I almost shouted. I recovered and said I was a bit young. It occurred to me for the first time that they actually thought I was a girl. I sat up. The tights and shorts outfit suddenly felt odd. Perhaps I should tell them the truth.
“Do you want a boyfriend?” Jasmine asked me. I presumed that they knew I was a boy who happened to be an ace dancer. Now I felt out of place. I went quiet.
Freya wanted to know if Evan had a girlfriend. To be honest, I didn’t know but I didn’t want to talk about him.
Jasmine suggested we went into town to ‘hang around’. I wasn’t keen but Gina, when she heard the plans, thought it was a brilliant idea. “It will give me a chance to clear up,” she said.
“I’ll go and change.” I didn’t get far with that idea because both Jasmine and Freya objected and Gina guided me to the door practically pushing me out so that within minutes I was outside dressed from head to toe in girl wear. With one girl on each side, they hooked arms through mine and trotted down the road towards town.
I didn’t know anybody from Evan’s side of town but as we got closer to the centre I knew we were bound to bump into people I knew from school. I was so self- conscious. I was never a guy guy, always had girls as friends, and making up dance routines meant that most boys at school avoided me. But…I had never pretended to be a girl. I had never dressed up as a girl before. Now, I was walking through town hoping that the people who passed me would think I was a girl. The worst thing that could happen now would be meeting somebody I knew. I would have a hard job explaining why I was dressed in tights and shorts or I would be giving Freya and Jasmine a big surprise. I felt doomed.
When we reached the park Freya led us to a park bench. Her idea of ‘hanging around’ was trying to catch the attention of boys our age. There were quite a few on skateboards and bikes doing nothing much other than circling each other. Freya headed for the bench in the middle of them. Jasmine followed dragging me by the arm. We sat in a row. I looked around. Fortunately, I didn’t recognise any of the boys. Freya did. She made comments about each of them using her own ‘cutie scale’ to grade them. Jasmine added her views, sometimes agreeing with Freya but mostly not. Then they turned to me.
“You’re being quiet,” Jasmine said. I didn’t have much to add but didn’t need to because Freya became all animated.
“Shush, shush, they’re coming over,” she said making such a fuss. “Pretend you’re not interested,” she continued which wasn’t hard as I wasn’t.
A boy cycled his bike over breaking so that he skidded to a halt right beside me.
“Who’s your friend, girls?” he asked.
“Her dad’s going out with Evan’s mum,” Freya explained. I looked at my feet. Red converse with black tights didn’t feel very boylike.
“Hi, I’m Toby,” the boy said.
“She’s Dani,” Jasmine said when it was clear I wasn’t going to answer.
“Or Danielle to be formal,” Freya said nudging me, “as this is your first introduction.”
“Hi Dani,” Toby said and I half- heartedly lifted my hand in a wave.
I knew I was going red and Freya telling Toby I was shy didn’t help matters. My mind was racing for a way out of this problem I now had. Should I tell the girls I was a boy before matters got worse? I even thought I should ask my dad if we could move away, from Gina and Evan and all this upside down stuff. I suppose it was because I was so confused about what to do that I did nothing and that is what led to me sitting silently for as long as possible while Freya and Jasmine flirted, because that is what they were doing, with Toby and his friends who soon joined us.
Freya suggested we play chase and everyone seemed to think this was a good idea, except me and I stayed silent. With the bench as ‘home’ the game began and I decided to sit it out. The others ran and shrieked and chased and pushed. I hoped they would get tired of it but, before they did, Freya came up behind me and pushed me off the bench. Toby came straight for me and I ran off shrieking as I did. Toby grabbed me and lifted me off the ground and swung me around. I couldn’t do a thing about it except shriek, which I did, and giggle. He set me down and then ran off. I looked around and could see that the others were waiting for me to catch them so, without thinking too much more I set off to try and catch them. I had Toby in my sights. He was the one I wanted to catch. Try as I might I couldn’t get him, he was too fast and the others tired of waiting for me so set off a rival game while I concentrated on Toby. I lost sight of him and was about to return to the bench when two arms reached out, grabbed me and pulled me into him. His arms locked around me and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest.
“I can feel your heart beating,” Toby said. I didn’t know what to say but I didn’t struggle I stayed still with his arms wrapped right around me.
It was Freya who spoiled the moment. She appeared and made a sarcastic comment about lovers in the bushes. It was quite unnecessary and Toby dropped his arms immediately. I went red and walked back to the bench, quite annoyed with her.
The boys started to drift off and, I think because she knew she had upset me, Freya tried to make amends.
“Dani is a great dancer,” she said to Toby.
“Really?” he asked. His interest was clear.
“Toby is a dancer too,” Freya explained.
“Ballet,” Jasmine added. “He’s brilliant!” It was Toby who went red this time. He didn’t say much but wheeled his bike alongside us as we walked home. I knew I was supposed to say something but I was so confused myself I didn’t know what to say. In the end, Jasmine suggested we all meet up again the next day so we could show our dance routines.
I was a mix of emotions back at Gina’s. At first she thought something awful had happened and I had to convince her that I had had a great time. I had. That was why I was so confused. Dad had not returned from work and Evan was at a friend’s house. I sat in front of the television not paying attention. I replayed the day to try to work out how I had ended up shyly waving to a boy who obviously liked me. ‘A total cutie’ Freya had called him and, when pressed by Jasmine, I had agreed that he was really nice. How had I reached that point?
When I went back over it, I couldn’t find the single moment when I was forced by Gina to wear anything I didn’t want to. Neither did I correct the girls when they called me ‘she’. When Evan returned home he took one look at me and nodded at my legs and I realised that he was right, I had ended up in the tights. At least he hadn’t said, ‘told you so’ even though his look did all that for him. But this was part of my concern, I had spent all day wearing girls’ clothes and didn’t think to get changed back when I came home.
I had a slight panic. Dad would be home and he would see me in tights. Maybe that was pushing my luck. I went into the kitchen and tried to find the words to tell Gina that I needed to change my clothes. She could tell something was up. I didn’t know what to say. Instead, I told her about the game of chase in the park and Toby grabbing me. She smiled the whole time. I then told her that Freya and Jasmine had introduced me as a girl. I stopped. The smile never left Gina’s face.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“Nothing,” I replied, looking down.
“Well, there’s nothing to say really is there?” she said. I looked at her, confused. “Why would you correct them?”
I thought it was obvious. “Because I’m not a girl!” I said, slowly.
Gina held out her hands and taking mine held me at arms’ length. She made me do a complete turn.
“What do we have here, looking fabulous and oh so pretty?” I blushed. “Is it a boy I see before me or a girl?” I didn’t answer. “Or doesn’t it matter as long as this little person is fabulous?” She hugged me and held me close. I was still confused but Gina’s hug made me feel better.
And that was how dad found us as he came home. Normally he would hug and kiss Gina but, today, he threw his arms around us both and hugged us closer. He didn’t mention my clothes and when Evan came into the kitchen he invited Evan over to join in, which he did because he hero worshipped my dad and would do anything he asked.
I stayed in my tights all evening until it was time for bed. Once again, Gina undressed me and helped me into my nightdress. I didn’t question it or ask for my pyjamas, I just went along with it all. I had enjoyed the day. Later, lying in bed I asked Evan if he knew Toby.
“He’s gay,” he shot back.
“He’s not, you know,” I replied. Evan looked at me. “Take it from me, he isn’t.”
Evan didn’t follow it up but gave me a look. “Wonder what is in the wardrobe for tomorrow!” he said. I wondered too. I had a few ideas for what I wanted in there as well.
To Be Continued...
Gina had dressed me as normal while Evan lazed in bed. She breezed in and opened Evan’s wardrobe. That was my cue to go the bathroom and wash. When I returned, Gina had my clothes ready. I say ‘my clothes’, but, in fact, none of them were mine or the ones dad had packed in my weekend bag. Today, she dressed me in the black tights again with the denim shorts and a red top with ‘Girl Power’ emblazoned across the front; no room for doubt there.
I loved the tights, they were my favourite thing, my best discovery, and I couldn’t help looking at my legs at every opportunity. Evan noticed and couldn’t help making a comment. In fact, he was a pain all morning. I think he was bored but his comments aimed at me were hurtful. He called me a sissy at one stage and I burst into tears. I shouldn’t have cried but the confusion I was feeling, along with the way he was treating me, just got to me. He was immediately sorry and tried to make amends.
“I want to go home,” I sniffed. “I want to go back to my old life.”
“Please don’t cry,” he said. “I didn’t mean it.” I sniffed and tried to stop the tears falling and Evan became more alarmed.
“You don’t want me here and I don’t want to be here, so we have that in common,” I said, eventually.
“I would hate it if you left,” he said. “Your dad is great to me and you…” he hesitated. “You are really nice, too.”
I knew how much he idolised my dad and I could see that my dad was fond of him. In many ways he was the son I couldn’t be. I knew that. I was just feeling a bit at sea over what was happening. I also knew that I would hate to lose Gina now. I tried to recover.
“It’s okay,” I said at last. “I’m just confused.”
Evan nodded as if he understood, but how could he?
“I think you make a great girl,” he said. I think he was trying to make me feel better.
I nodded. “I think it suits me. I’m a lousy boy. I never fitted in properly.”
“Not surprising, if you really are a girl inside,” he said. I looked at him. What did he know? He was full of surprises and then he had another one up his sleeve. He hugged me!
Gina appeared at the point where Evan was comforting me.
“Everything alright here?” she asked.
“She was a bit upset mum, but she is alright now,” Evan said. He looked at me to see if I was going to say anything to get him into trouble. I smiled and wiped my eyes, showing that the upset was over. Gina smiled and reminded me that Freya and Jasmine were due over soon. Evan groaned but peace was restored.
Later, I realised that Evan had referred to me as ‘she’ and Gina hadn’t said anything about it. Neither had I!
Evan went out to see a friend when Freya and Jasmine turned up. Freya told me again what a total cutie he was and, although I didn’t agree, I said he was quite nice for a brother. Our dancing was as good as ever and I didn’t object when Jasmine suggested we call Toby and invite him over. Freya moaned a bit. “But he’s a boy!” she said. “Our dances are for girls!”
“Not to dance with us! To watch us!” Jasmine announced. “And besides,” she continued, “he can get to see Dani again. Bet she won’t object to that!” She grinned at me. Any chance of telling them the truth and explaining myself were fast disappearing. But then, I was feeling less and less like explaining myself and more and more like enjoying my new popularity, instead.
Toby was impressed, or he said he was! We danced for him but soon pulled him in and he danced, too. Freya suggested that we make up a dance where we split into pairs and I got paired with Toby which was great fun. He may be a great ballet dancer but I could teach him a thing or two about our style of dancing. He was a fast dancer and quick learner. After he had gone, the others made fun of me, saying I fancied him and so on. I said very little.
It was such a strange feeling having friends as good as Freya and Jasmine. It was also so strange to know a boy who noticed me and seemed to like me. I couldn’t think of a single boy at school who I could call a friend. There wasn’t any boy who would even stop and talk to me. To the boys in my class, I was invisible. Toby, on the other hand, was a real friend. My life was certainly changing.
Back home, during the week, I once again found myself thinking back on those changes and the strange weekend. I was back to ‘boy clothes’ for school but I found myself noticing what the girls were wearing and thinking about what did and didn’t look good. Emily, my best friend at school, noticed that I had changed.
“You play with your hair more,” she said, “and you are less awkward.”
I didn’t know what she meant by ‘awkward’ but she explained that I was always so tense at school, avoiding any trouble and keeping out of the way of the boys, watching how I stood or walked.
“You seemed scared to be caught out,” she went on. “Now, you seem more at ease.”
It was true that I kept out of the way of boys. I had been made fun of enough in the past to know that it was best to keep myself to myself. The boys just didn’t like me. There wasn’t a single boy at school that had anything to do with me. Then I remembered Toby. He was the first boy who liked me. He was so nice to me, but he thought I was a girl. His friends were nice, too. All the boys in the park had wanted to play with Freya, Jasmine and me. When I was a boy nobody took much notice of me but, when they thought I was a girl, boys as well as girls wanted to play with me.
Strange!
I didn’t know what Emily meant about being ‘caught out’ but I had a really bad moment over the weekend. Freya suggested we pair up for the dances and Toby said, “I know! How about boys and girls?” My heart froze. I thought he knew my secret.
“What you saying?” Freya asked with her hands on her hips. “You calling me a tomboy?”
“I wouldn’t dare,” he said and laughed. The moment passed but it had been quite a shock. Then, it dawned on me that nobody for a minute thought of me as a boy or even a tomboy. I was making quite a success of this girl thing.
I wondered what it would be like if Emily met Jasmine, Freya and Toby. I couldn’t let the two sides of my life meet or secrets would come tumbling out but I couldn’t help wondering if life at school with my new friends would be kinder and better.
At my school, the boundaries were really clear. I was certainly a boy there… or at least I did my best to be ‘boylike’. Things became more fluid, at home. After school, I started changing into the clothes Gina had packed for me. At first, I only put on the grey top or white long sleeved t shirt with my normal jeans but, by Wednesday, I got more adventurous and wore the skinny jeans with my pink top. I also started slapping around the house in my blue slippers, almost sad that I didn’t have my nightdress to wear. If dad noticed, he didn’t say anything. He didn’t look cross or anything and he didn’t act differently. Each day, on arriving home, I went through my clothes and selected something and each day my eyes quickly dismissed my usual clothes in favour of my ‘girl’ ones. I just felt better wearing them. I fingered the tights, wondering if I dared.
By Thursday it was too much. I had spent that day admiring the tights worn by girls in my class and remembering how comfortable they had felt last weekend. I was jealous that the girls got to wear them so, on arriving home, I rushed past dad and up the stairs. As usual, he told me to get changed.
“I am changing,” I said to myself. “I really am changing!” I told the mirror!
I hesitated only for a moment.
Would dad mind?
He didn’t at Gina’s but this was different, somehow. If dad made a fuss, I decided I would at least finally start a conversation about why Gina bought me girls’ clothes.
I pulled on the tights and once again felt both strange and excited by the feel on my legs. I put on the shorts which were both tight and very short and a white top that looked like a vest but which was much too soft and shiny to be anything a boy would wear. I sneaked into my dad’s room for a look in the full length mirror and the girl me smiled back. I could see that I was getting to like her. Life felt better when I was a girl.
I took a mug of tea into my dad. He was head down, working on something or other but he noticed my clothes straight away. He smiled and hugged me into his side. I let myself be hugged and played with the loose strands of my hair. He then produced a present for me. I was amazed. It wasn’t my birthday or anything. I opened the small box and pulled out a necklace with the name, ‘Dani’, in silver. It was lovely. The spelling wasn’t lost on me. It was some time since my dad had called me Daniel. I hugged dad even closer and kissed him on the cheek. He was obviously pleased by the enthusiasm that I had shown.
Dad eventually decided I had homework to do and made a space on his desk next to him so I could do it. I didn’t do it very well. The task was to write about an important day. I had so much I wanted to write; about meeting Gina or dancing with Freya or Jasmine, or meeting Toby and realising that a boy actually liked me, or wearing tights in town, or my dad buying me a necklace with my new name on it. They were special days. They were important days.
Instead, I wrote about the first time I met Gina but I left so much out that I wanted to tell everybody about, that, in the end, my work didn’t sound very important at all. No wonder my teacher, when he read it, said “You don’t have a very exciting life do you?” I blushed. If only he knew. If only I could tell him that, when I went home I would change into the real me and snuggle up next to my dad on the sofa wearing tights and shorts, and that I would be dreaming about the next weekend with Gina wondering what was left to discover.
I reached the stage where I could hardly wait for the end of school on Friday. I used to like school but now the weeks seemed to go so slowly and I was desperate to reach the weekend. I suppose my dream would be to live during the week in the way I spent the weekends. Dad helped as much as he could. I noticed my new school trousers, although black, were different. No wonder. They had come from ‘Miss Second Glance’ and were styled to appeal to girls; as much as boring school trousers could. However, I was grateful to my dad and I smiled to myself when I noticed the trousers of some of the other girls. It made me feel better that I was wearing the same. No trouble from the boys. To them, I was still invisible.
So each Friday, dad collected me from school and we drove over town to her house with me still in school uniform. When we got there, though, I got changed straight away. At first, I hoped Gina would dress me but I couldn’t think how to ask her without sounding like a four year old so, most Fridays, I took myself up to Evan’s room and changed. Better that than wait until Saturday for the girl me to appear. Evan would normally be on his computer and, mostly, he would ignore me. I would open the wardrobe and take out what was obviously left there for me.
“I wish mum would get you your own,” he said on one occasion. “It freaks me out to open it and see girls’ clothes in my wardrobe.”
End of Part Four
To Be Continued...
Spending the week at home, just me and daddy, then the weekend at Gina’s with all the fun of playing with Freya and Jasmine and dressing in a way that suited the real me became the pattern over the next six weeks. By this stage my hair was longer than it had ever been. It reached my shoulders, just. At school there had been a few comments but mostly from teachers because it was getting untidy. I mentioned it to dad.
That is why, I found myself sitting in the chair at Gina’s usual salon with Gina at my side holding my hand and telling me she was so excited. I thought I was having my hair ‘tidied’, she thought it was time for a make- over! I was nervous. After all, whatever happened I would have to live with it back at school next week. “Will I look very different?” I asked.
“You will look fabulous,” she said. “Just as you are now but with extra fabulousness!” We laughed and I have to say that my desire to show off to Freya and Jasmine, and Toby won over any worries I had about Monday; at least for the time being. That is why sitting in the coffee shop later waiting for daddy and Evan I sported a new fringe and bangs and a stud earring in each ear. I felt fabulous, Gina told me I looked fabulous, and I spent the whole time playing with my ears.
Daddy told me I looked pretty and I blushed. Evan grunted but I could see he was in a good mood; spending time with daddy always did that to him. We had to listen to the list of shops they had visited but they were so boring. How much time can you spend in a fishing tackle shop? Gina looked a bit cross when I didn’t take any interest so I did my best. At last, they asked about my salon visit and I told them how great it had been and how the stylist had paid me compliments. She thought I was a girl the whole time but I didn’t mention that. Neither did I tell them that I was worried I would be found out, or worse that I would have to go back to my old life. It had been a relief when she asked me girl questions, such as whether I had a boyfriend or not. I blushed and said no to that but she decided I was being secretive and asked me what his name was. She did go on a bit about it. However, when I looked at myself in the mirror at the end, I was so amazed and pleased I almost cried. I loved the way I looked although I looked slightly younger than ten. Perhaps it was too much a little girl look. I wanted to be like Freya and Jasmine but the glint of earrings through my fine hair every time I moved made me feel so much better. Gina was at my side admiring the work.
“There,” she said turning to the stylist. “I knew you would work your magic.”
“She’s too stunned to speak,” the stylist said to Gina.
I stunned somebody else as well that day. Not Freya or Jasmine, they were complimentary about the changes and a bit jealous because Jasmine wanted pierced ears and wasn’t allowed yet. Freya did have earrings but wanted blond hair like mine. Although we were all the same age I couldn’t help but think that I looked younger. Anyway, they were nice to me. So was Toby when we saw him later. He was the second person to call me ‘pretty’. No, the person I stunned was Emily from school. I bumped into her in the coffee shop on my way to the little boys’ room… or little girls’ room; I hadn’t made up my mind. The worry about the decision left me as soon as I came face to face with Emily.
“Daniel,” she said, shocked. I think she was going to say, “Is that you?” but both she and I knew it was. I opened my mouth to speak but no words came out. I was going to explain but… well that was the problem. I hadn’t explained things to myself so how could I find the words for anyone else? That I was becoming a girl was clear; the boy had faded away almost completely. Why I felt better as a girl was harder to explain. Why I was glad that Gina had encouraged me was even harder to explain. What I did know was that we were building a new family, and I was the daughter, and I was over the moon about that.
Emily was probably my best friend at school. We played together at playtimes for instance but it wasn’t as if we were close. I wouldn’t tell her secrets or things. It was more a case of her being popular with the other girls and allowing me in to the circle for dances and friendship. Now, Freya, Jasmine and were friends with me on an equal basis. I still played with Emily at school but we didn’t see each other outside school much anymore and I hadn’t confided in her. During the week, I did all that online with Freya and Jasmine… and even Toby.
I still had some explaining to do though. I stood, one foot on top of the other and my legs bent in the way Freya stood when she was thinking. I was sort of annoyed with myself for insisting to Gina that I wear tights and shorts. I had even complained last week that I only had black tights and I shrieked with delight on discovering bright purple tights in the wardrobe. I was so pleased with them. Now, I felt trapped. There was no pretending. These were not half way clothes, these were full on girl clothes.
“I’m called Dani, now,” I said quietly. Emily looked me up and down.
“D-A-N-I?” she asked. I nodded. “Thought so, I saw your necklace at school. You thought it was hidden, but I saw it.” I nodded again, not sure what to say. Emily filled the silences for me.
“I like your style,” she said and smiled. I tried a smile. “Is this why you don’t see me at weekends now?” she asked.
“No, I…” I looked around. “I spend every weekend at Gina’s with daddy.”
“Daddy? Your dad?” I nodded.
It was her turn to look around. “Are you going in there?” she said nodding towards the little boys’ room.
“I didn’t think it through properly,” I said. It was true. I usually avoided going at all when we were in town but today I really needed to sort myself out. She took my arm and guided me into the girls’ room.
“Looking as good as you do, you need extra mirror,” she explained.
It was good to see Emily and good to talk. We spent ages chatting afterwards and she reminded me why she was so friendly to me, including me when I could have spent every school playtime on my own.
“It suits you,” she said, finally. “You have more confidence as a girl, Dani.”
I was surprised by this. I wasn’t feeling confident at all.
“What about school on Monday?” she asked. I went silent again. I would need bucket loads of confidence to do what I really wanted to do, I thought.
“Not sure, yet,” I said.
We parted with Emily wishing me luck and saying she would see me on Monday. At least I would have an ally when I needed one, I thought.
“Finally,” groaned Evan when I returned.
“Sorry,” I said. “I met Emily and we chatted.”
“And chatted and chatted and chatted,” Evan moaned. “Honestly, girls!”
Gina and daddy hadn’t seemed to mind and they laughed when Evan kept going on about girls spending time in bathrooms making themselves look pretty.
“You seem to know a lot about it,” daddy said and that shut him up. Daddy winked at me and held my hand as we left to find the car.
Sunday night came around all too soon, as it seemed to these days. We packed up to return home and I wished that we could just stay. Maybe I could go to the same school as Freya and Jasmine, or go to school with Evan. “
“Not for much longer,” daddy said to Gina as they kissed goodbye.
I tried getting more information out of him on the drive back across town.
“All in good time,” he said. “We can’t have you sleeping on the mattress for too much longer. Besides, it isn’t right that you share a room with a boy at your age.”
I thought I would like my own room but I really hoped that we could all live together. However, I didn’t want to rock any boats so I didn’t dare raise it with daddy.
In bed that night, my mind went to school and the comments I was bound to get when they saw my pierced ears and new hair style. I tried looking in the mirror to see how obvious they were. Very! Very, very obvious! I wondered if anyone would turn violent over it.
The answer was that boys noticed me for the first time in years… and not in a good way. I had worried that I was so invisible at school but today would have been a good day to disappear.
“Sissy, poofta, girly, fairy, princess,” were just some of the names I was called before the day even started. Some boys just laughed at me and didn’t even use any words. Others minced around with arms at odd angles to their bodies in a bizarre show of how they thought girls walked.
Emily rescued me and pulled me into her group of girls. That made some of the boys worse but I Emily glare at some of them and they lost interest…for a while. I would like to say the girls were better than that but quite a few seemed to enjoy the drama too.
It was my own fault. Daddy had spoken to me about this. He warned me it might be too much of a shock for some. He offered to come into school and talk to the headteacher but I, stupidly, thought it wasn’t that much of a change. I wore my boy clothes, for instance. Well, actually the trousers were girl ones but… they were trousers!
Standing with the other girls, though, I could see I had maybe rushed things. It was just that I had this different life now and it was better and I hated putting it all away in a wardrobe so that I could pretend to be somebody I wasn’t while I was at school.
My headteacher is big on diversity. He doesn’t like it if people make fun of other people because they are different. “Difference is what makes the world a fascinating place” he said in assembly all the time. So I knew he would be on my side. I suppose word spread because he came into our classroom, went over to speak to the teacher, looked at me and beckoned me over. There were sniggers; I suppose some thought I would be in trouble now. It did cross my mind that I may have overdone it, rushed things maybe. On the other hand, why should I be somebody I wasn’t to fit in at school? I walked with him to his office.
“Your daddy has been to see me this morning,” he said. I looked suitably surprised. “He was worried about you facing school all alone.”
I realised how much I loved my daddy. “I’m fine,” I said.
“That’s what he said you would say,” he replied. He sat behind his desk and indicated the seat for me. “I’m sure several people have had something to say this morning!” His arched eyebrows showed that he knew what some of the boys in my class were like.
“I always wondered what I had to do to get noticed by the boys in my class,” I said and he smiled.
“I am here to support you, so I want you to know that I will not allow anyone to be mean and nasty without there being serious consequences for them.”
I nodded. “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asked. I smiled to myself and remembered the first time I wore a skirt.
Evan was moaning, again, that there were girl clothes in his wardrobe. I was used to this by now and said something clever like, “you should try them, they might suit you” to which he snorted. He then threw a denim skirt over to me and said, “I wouldn’t be seen dead in a skirt.”
I was so excited. There had been one time when Freya wore a skirt but Jasmine didn’t. I remember thinking that, if we had co-ordinated, I would get to wear a skirt too because Gina always seemed to be in the know. I didn’t dare ask though and because we were all dressed differently it remained just a hope. Then, here I was holding a skirt and thinking that, at last, I would get to wear one. I almost thanked Gina when she came in to dress me but instead did what I always did, accepted it all as just normal for me to have these clothes. So, Gina put me in purple tights and the denim skirt and a purple top with silvery stars and I danced in front of the mirror so much that she had to hold me down to brush my hair and say “what is the matter with you today?” but she smiled as she said it and she knew as I did what the matter was. This was the best feeling of all. I didn’t object when we went out but couldn’t wait to be around town in my skirt and tights. I didn’t even keep looking around to see if we bumped into someone who knew me.
So, sitting in the headteacher’s office, I knew what I was going to say when he asked me what he could do to help. “I would like to wear my skirt, tomorrow,” I said.
He nodded. “Alright, as long as it is a school uniform skirt...”
I smiled. This was going to be fantastic. I got up to leave and he said, “ … and tights need to be navy blue, remember. School colours!”
I didn’t actually have a school skirt or navy tights but I didn’t worry. I could even ask Emily if necessary.
The rest of the day went without too much fuss. Nobody was outright hostile to me but I got a lot of stares and I could tell others were whispering. Before I left for home, my teacher called me over. I was sure he was going to say something positive and supportive so I was completely taken by surprise when he handed me back my homework on, ’An Important Day’ from six weeks ago. He said, “This isn’t your best work. You can do better.” I looked at my writing. I knew it wasn’t as good as it could be but I was keeping secrets when I wrote it.
“I want you to do it again,” he said. “And this time, write as if you mean it!”
I nodded and took back my work.
Gina met me from school. This was a surprise. She told me she and daddy decided I needed support and she was worried that I would be scared about walking home by myself.
“I usually do,” I replied.
“I know,” she said, looking around. “But today feels a bit more special, doesn’t it!”
She took my hand and we walked towards home.
“Don’t you need to collect Evan from his school?” I asked her.
“Evan doesn’t like me to be seen at his school. I might ruin his street cred!” We laughed at that, both imagining how Evan liked to act the tough guy.
“Are we going to my house or yours?” I asked.
“Neither! Well, not yet, anyway. We have shopping to do young lady!”
And so we did, not exciting shopping because it was all school uniform but it was a couple of new school skirts and several pairs of tights in navy blue and charcoal. Nothing to wear down a catwalk but, for me, a big step forwards.
“Evan’s school has a red uniform, is that right?” I asked Gina.
“And boy, does Evan moan about THAT!” she replied.
“Red tights would be so cool, though,” I said.
Gina looked at me and sighed. “Alright then, one pair of bright red tights for you, but only to wear at weekends. Your school will not like it if you break the uniform rule.”
I hugged her close and we set off for home, which as it turned out was her house.
Her house…Evan’s house…and Evan’s wardrobe…where it all started. Daddy was waiting for us and Evan was chatting to him, wearing his school uniform. He looked younger somehow in his red school sweatshirt and grey trousers.
Daddy and I stayed over because there were big decisions to be made. Gina and daddy said we should all live together. This was just what we all wanted but daddy wanted to be sure that it was the right thing.
“We will find a new house to live in, a new start. Not your house or this house but our house!” Gina said.
Daddy said I could move schools if I wanted to. Tempted though I was by the thought of red tights, I knew my school was the place to be. Why should I be chased away? Then I had a slight panic.
“We’re not moving too far away are we?”
“Not too far from Freya and Jasmine,” Gina said.
“Or Toby!” Evan said, his face in his hands fluttering his eyelashes in an exaggerated way. I should have been annoyed with him but I laughed instead.
It would have been great to watch television all bunched up on the sofa like at weekends but I had homework to do.
“So do you, Evan!” Gina reminded him.
“Stupid girl,” he shot across to me. “She wouldn’t have remembered if you hadn’t said that!”
I didn’t mind. I had a piece of writing to do. I had promised to rewrite my work and I was keen to do it.
I spent a lot of time with my best friend Janey. I was nearly always at her house or she was round mine. We spent most of our spare time together and being in the same class at school meant we were pretty much inseparable. It was strange, at my school at least, for a boy of my age to have a girl as a best friend; but I did. Janey was such good fun. What ten year old wouldn’t want to be friends with her? The fact that the boys didn’t have much to do with me or, in fact, that I didn’t really mix with the boys made it quite important that someone wanted to be my friend. And that someone was Janey!
So, there we were laying around in her bedroom, flicking through magazines and playing with her dolls when I noticed her staring at me.
“Jem, your mum wanted a girl, didn’t she?”
I looked at her. “Why do you say that?”
“Well… you wear a lot of girls’ clothes,” she replied.
“I do not!” I screeched. I was aware that I sounded quite girly as soon as I said it. Also, I had clapped my hands to my face in expression of amazement. I had caught that from Janey; she did it all the time to show mock indignation. I slowly dropped my hands and tried to look more masculine. I uncrossed my legs.
“I don’t wear girls’ clothes,” I said, more quietly this time.
“You do, Jem,” Janey said. She kneeled up and looked at me with her face serious and concerned. I knew that face. It meant she was determined to tell me a home truth, like the time she told me I needed to brush my hair regularly if I was going to keep it long.
“You’re wearing girls’ clothes now!” She used her quiet voice, breaking it to me gently.
I laughed. It was obvious she was joking. I was wearing red jeans with a blue and white striped long sleeve top. What was girly about that? She continued staring and the smile fell away from my face.
“You’re wrong,” I told her.
“Have you looked at the labels?” she asked.
“You’re wrong,” I insisted.
“Jem, you are always wearing bright clothes or colourful clothes…”
“So what! My mum is just into fashion, that’s all!”
“Yes, girls’ fashions,” she laughed.
I glared at her. She was being mean. She could tell I was hurt.
“Oh don’t look so moody,” she said trying to cheer me up. “Nothing wrong with being a girl!”
“Stop, Janey!” I said, my voice quite loud. Actually, she was really annoying me by this stage because she looked so sure of herself and, frankly, I had had enough. I slipped off the bed and picked up my blue espadrilles. I slipped them on.
“Oh, don’t go, Jem,” Janey said. “I didn’t mean to annoy you.”
I left. She needed to know that she couldn’t say such things and get away with it. I lived two streets away and all the way home I kept replaying her comments through my mind. By the time I got home I was really worked up. What was she talking about? Labels?
Mum called a greeting to me as I came in but I was so eager to check out my clothes I only shouted back as I climbed the stairs. Once in my room, I took off my top and looked at the label. ‘Dominique’ it said. That’s okay, I thought. Dominique is a French name; a French boy’s name. I was a bit relieved to tell the truth.
Maybe I should have stopped there but Janey’s concerned look came to mind and I really, really wanted to put her right. I dropped my trousers. ‘Diamond Wear’. Nothing wrong with that. I checked my other tops and shirts. ‘Harmony Fashions’ appeared on a few labels. That seemed okay, didn’t it? Trouble was, I was now suspicious. I looked at my tops and there was something about the neckline or the way the sleeves ballooned slightly at the top that made me wonder if Janey was right.
Over the next few days I found myself looking at what girls were wearing when I was out and about with Janey. At school we all wore the same uniform sweatshirt with school emblem so there was no doubt that was okay… and I definitely wore boys’ trousers… but I still had nagging doubts about my other ‘out of school’ clothes.
I had forgiven Janey right away; I couldn’t be upset with her for long and, in any case, I had started to think she knew what she was talking about. We were hanging around the shops doing nothing much and certainly not shopping because we had no money when I spotted a red and white striped long sleeve T shirt like one of my own. As soon as I saw it, I realised Janey was right. It was being worn by one of the shop models that look so unrealistic with arms at odd angles and an expression that is supposed to be joy but actually looks like permanent surprise.
The sign said something about special offers on Dominique clothes. Janey followed my stare, saw the T shirt and knew what I was thinking.
“Come on,” she said, taking me by the arm. “We might as well find out.”
I hung back but she dragged me through the door anyway.
“Find out what?” I asked.
She didn’t reply but led me right up to the counter. “Do you have any Dominique T shirts for boys?” she asked, right out loud.
“For boys?” the assistant asked casting a glance at me. I went deep red and looked down. Why was Janey doing this? I was sure the woman knew this was about me.
“I don’t think so,” she replied. “They mostly do girls’ clothes.”
“Mostly?” Janey asked. I glared at the back of her head. I sent ‘Stop now!’ thoughts to her but she carried on taking no notice of my embarrassment. It wasn’t lost on the shop assistant who gave me very knowing glances.
“Let me check,” she said looking at me again. She went away and came back with a catalogue full of Dominique fashions. “They are all girls in here. We do have different labels for boys wear. What is it you need, exactly? Maybe, I can help.”
I was ready to run out of the shop, I was so embarrassed, but Janey was as cool as anything. “I have a top like the one in the window but somebody told me I was wearing a boy’s top. I wanted to check.”
“Oh, I think they were just being horrible. If it says ‘Dominique’ on the label you can be sure it is designed for girls. Dominique is a girl’s name after all! The red and white top is our most popular item at the moment and anyway, look at the collar style; it is so obviously for girls.” She flicked the catalogue to find the page and then passed it to Janey. A young model was wearing the top, the same one I had! She also had a short jeans skirt and some navy blue tights. I realised I had leaned over to look intently at the page so stepped back to make it look as if I didn’t really care. From the way the shop assistant looked at me I could tell she wasn’t fooled.
“Keep the catalogue,” she said. “It might give you other ideas.”
“She winked at me!” I told Janey when we left the shop. “She thought I wanted to wear those clothes.” I was indignant.
“You do wear them…” Janey replied. “…well, the top anyway. I think that much is clear. Your mum does buy you girls’ clothes.”
“Can you hush up?” I hissed at her. I didn’t want the whole street to know.
“Maybe my mum was confused,” I said.
Janey stopped and turned to face me. I looked from side to side but couldn’t look directly at her.
“Jem, you do not believe that!” I didn’t answer.
“How many other Dominique clothes do you have?” I looked around her pursing my mouth. “I bet you’ve checked,” she said.
I knew I was going red and her voice took on that ‘told you so’ tone she had. “Any others you want to tell me about?” she asked.
I finally met her eyes. “Harmony Fashions.” It was more a question than a statement. I could feel my shoulders sag. I think Janey started to feel sorry for me at this point.
“I think Dominique is a boy’s name in France,” I said lamely.
“Not in this country, though,” she replied. She had a thought. “Did she buy it in France?”
I didn’t have to answer. “And Diamond Wear,” I went on. “I seem to have a lot of that.”
“Me too,” she mumbled. “Got any Tommy Girl?”
“No!” I shouted, drawing attention to us. Then I whispered, “It isn’t my fault.”
Janey led me to a bench. She was on a mission, I could tell. This information had exited her at the same time as depressing me.
“Of course it isn’t your fault, Jem, but there has to be a reason. Should we ask your mum?”
“No!” My voice rose again. “I think she must…” I stopped, confused. I couldn’t think of a very good reason. “Maybe, they are cheaper,” I said. Once again my voice rose at the end making it sound more of a question…or maybe a plea.
“You have very good quality clothes,” Janey said slowly. “Very good quality, girls’ clothes!” She looked directly at me again. Then a thought hit her. “Do you have any boys’ clothes?”
I looked directly back at her. “School trousers, pants, most socks, I think, pyjamas and a tie I wore to a wedding once.”
“Wow!” She paused. “Is that it?”
“Pretty much.”
“Wow!”
“I went home and checked. I hoped you were wrong.” I paused. “You weren’t.”
Janey turned to me again. “What are you going to do?” she asked.
My mum noticed that something was up when we were eating that evening. I wanted to ask her directly but I couldn’t, not any more than I could answer Janey’s question about what I was going to do.
“You’re very quiet this evening,” Mum said. “Did you fall out with Janey again?”
“No!” I mumbled into my plate.
“Honestly, you two!”
“We didn’t fall out!”
“Well, something is up.”
I looked at her. “Can I have a new…” I searched for something to ask for. “sweatshirt?”
Mum looked at me, puzzled. “Do you need a new school sweatshirt?”
“No, just a sweatshirt… for playing in”
“Don’t you have enough?” she asked.
“Yes… but…” I played with my food some more.
“If a new sweatshirt is what it takes to get you out of this strange mood you are in, then I will buy you one. Okay?”
“Can I come too?”
“It is easier if I buy it during my lunch hour from work. I’ll do it tomorrow.”
“But I want to choose it.”
Mum looked at me. “Don’t you like your clothes,” she asked me. She had the same way of fixing me with a look that Janey did. “Is that what this is about?”
This would have been the perfect moment to ask her a direct question. The right moment but I wasn’t up to it.
“I want a soccer top,” I said at last.
“You HATE soccer! Or so you have always said and hey did you make a fuss when that boy tried to get you to join their team.”
That boy was a new boy in our class. He didn’t have many friends and tried to convince me to go with him to football practice after school. He was mad about football. We weren’t really friends even though I tried to include him in the games with Janey and me. He soon drifted away. He didn’t really want to have anything to do with girls. It seems that having no friends is better than being friends with a girl.
“I just want a football top. They are… cool!” I didn’t even convince myself so when Mum laughed I ended up smiling too and the subject moved on.
I forgot that I had even asked for a shirt so I was surprised when mum handed me a shopping bag when I got home from school the next day. I looked inside and pulled out a pastel green and white striped hooded top. There was a wide white elasticated ribbing section at the bottom and a zip from top to bottom. The label screamed at me: ‘Harmony Fashions’. I even recognised it from the catalogue. Worse, I even admired it in the catalogue.
“What shop did you go to?” I asked.
“Thank you, Mummy, for buying me a top and all because I just asked for one. I just ask for one and I get one. What a lucky person I am!”
I stared at her. She does this pantomime act every so often.
“Thank you for the top,” I said slowly. “What shop did you go to?”
“One in town.”
“Which one?”
“One close to work. That makes it slightly easier for me when I am running around trying to grant your every wish.” She was gearing up for another over the top act.
“Was it in the boys’ department?” I tried not to overdo the emphasis on the word ‘boys’ but it rang out anyway.
“Let me think! No, it was the gardening department!”
“Thanks”
“If I’d known you were going to be so ungrateful, I would never have bothered.” The pantomime act disappeared but I didn’t want to have an upset mum.
“I did say ‘thanks’ and I do like it,” I said moving over to her to give her a hug. It worked. She calmed down but I was still left wondering what was going on.
Janey had a theory. We were sitting on a park bench watching the world go by. We sometimes did this on the way home from school. Sometimes, this was the best bit of the day. “Maybe your mum wanted a girl all along and you… well, you..” She trailed off.
“I what?”
“Disappointed her! Sorry! I know that sounds a bit harsh.”
“A bit?” I stared in the opposite direction to where some young children were playing over by the pond.
“Some parents do… want a boy or a girl. They can’t help it.”
I carried on staring at the young kids by the pond. An older sister came along and I sat up.
“Look!” I said. “See that girl over there…” Janey followed my gaze. “See that top she’s wearing…”
“..the green and white one?”
“I’ve got that. Mum bought it for me yesterday.”
Janey twisted her mouth. It was her thinking look. She didn’t have to say anything.
“I know,” I said. “I know.”
We sat for a while longer, not talking much, each of us thinking about things. Janey was planning, I could tell from her body language. She liked to sort things, did Janey. I sat and wondered how long Mum had been secretly dressing me as a girl. My dad lives in the USA. It can’t have been before then. I remember him trying to get me involved in sport and I remember some arguments between him and mum about forcing me to do things I didn’t want to. My mum defended my lack of sporting ability by saying I was too little but dad believed every boy should be able to kick and throw a ball. I even heard him say I threw like a girl, once, under his breath. When he left, I don’t remember any big fights or anger, just ‘Daddy is going to live in America, isn’t that fun! You can visit every summer- which I did… and it was fine… and fun.
I was close to my mum. I hated seeing her upset and I would do anything to keep her happy. I never got into trouble at school for instance as she would be so angry. The few times I did silly things in class the teacher only had to threaten me with telling my mum and I was a crying, jabbering heap. I stayed away from the boys who got into trouble a lot and I spent most of my time with Janey. Janey was popular with the girls so it just happened that I spent most playtimes and lunchtimes with girls and avoided boys altogether. It was just the way it was. That didn’t mean I wanted to be a girl. I didn’t think of myself as ‘girly’ at all. I knew I was different from most boys but that was okay. In my school the headteacher was always going on about diversity. In any case, I wasn’t even like a girl!
“I’m not even like a girl!” I said out loud. I looked at Janey. Her mouth was still twisting. She looked at me.
“I’m not,” I insisted. She didn’t reply. “How am I like a girl?” I asked, eventually.
“Your hair,” Janey replied, quietly.
My hand went instinctively to my ponytail.
“Lots of boys have long hair,” I mumbled.
“How many in our school?”
“You know I’m the only one, but that doesn’t make me a girl.”
I remembered the supply teacher who thought I was a girl. It was so embarrassing, for her as well as me. I was eager to answer a question and because she didn’t know my name she just said something like ‘yes, you, the little girl at the back!’ I turned around and then realised. The class roared and I went deep red. I hoped Janey hadn’t remembered that as well.
“Your name?” she tried.
“Jeremy!” I shot back.
“But your mum calls you Jem! And you play with my dolls!” she continued. “Every opportunity!”
“Only because that’s what you do. What sort of friend would I be if I didn’t?” I tried.
Janey wasn’t having that. “Do you ever suggest we play any boy games?”
I folded my arms and huffed.
“The way you sit,” she went on. I uncrossed my legs and let my arms drop.
“You don’t know much about any boy stuff…” She had a point there. What boys found interesting about football, fighting, soldiers and any of the other things was beyond me. I was happier playing the things Janey wanted to, reading her magazines and chilling out at her house. That didn’t make me a girl. I needed to go home and forget about everything; that or ask my mum directly what was going on. I was confused.
Janey stood up and faced me. She had a determined look on her face.
“Are you coming around mine?” she asked me. I shrugged. The truth was it would be a terrible evening without Janey to play with. Everyday I either went round to hers after school or she came to my house.
“What time?” she insisted.
“I might be busy,” I said huffily.
“Tell you what, when you come round, bring your purple top; the one with the stars across the shoulder.”
I didn’t bother trying to resist. “Why?”
“Just do it, and cheer up,” she said pulling me up from the bench. “I’ve got a plan!”
I groaned. Janey’s plans often worried me.
At home, mum greeted me with her usual sunny smile. I hugged her and answered all the usual questions as I bounded up the stairs to get changed. Yes it was a good day, yes, I had worked hard and yes, I had been good. I pulled the purple top from the drawer and looked at it. I didn’t really like it. The colour was okay but the stars ruined it as far as I was concerned. They spread from the right shoulder all the way down the right sleeve. I always thought it odd that they only spread over one side. The stars were also purple but shiny so that they were picking up the light whichever way I turned. I didn’t know what her plan was but it was strange that she picked this top. When I checked my clothes recently, this was the only one without a label. Whatever Janey’s plan was I put it on and pulled on some old jeans. I untied my ponytail and let my hair hang loose. I brushed it in front of the mirror. Truth was, I loved my hair and was glad that mum didn’t want me to cut it.
I hugged mum before leaving for Janey’s. Mum smiled. “You’ve got the starry top on!” she said, beaming. “I love that top on you!”
I looked at her. I should have asked her then what was going on. Instead, I promised to be back in time for dinner and sped off to Janey’s.
“Hello Jem,” Janey’s mum greeted me. She held the door open and pointed up the stairs. She promised to bring up some juice so I shouted hello and thanks as I rushed past her and up to Janey’s room.
“Good,” she said when she saw me eyeing the purple top. Good? It sounded like I had followed instructions and she was about to put the next stage of her plan into operation. Well, I suppose I had and she was. I sat on the edge of her bed and instinctively picked up one of her dolls. She had several but I usually played with the same one; it was my favourite. I called her Gemma. I was brushing Gemma’s hair when Janey’s mum came in with juice and biscuits.
“Having fun?” she asked and we nodded. It was always fun at Janey’s. She had so much in her bedroom that I liked. Her posters had all the coolest boy bands and her duvet cover was of dolphins diving. There were dolphins on her curtains too and she had soft toys all around. My room by contrast was bare. Mum tried to encourage me to put things on the walls and she offered to help me choose wall-paper but I was uninspired. I much preferred Janey’s room. Her mum left us to it and I thought, once again, how alike her mum and my mum were. Janey’s dad was a little scarey. I didn’t see him much as he worked long hours but, when he came home, I usually made myself scarce. He had never been horrible to me but I just liked to keep out of his way. I don’t think he was used to dealing with boys.
“Look!” Janey said handing me something blue. I put Gemma down and unfolded the navy blue top. It was exactly the same design as my purple one, stars all over the right shoulder and arm. I held it up, not sure what I was to make of it.
“Look at the label!” Janey continued. I looked inside. ‘Miss Selfridge’ it said.
“Mine doesn’t say that!” I said, getting defensive.
Janey stood in front of me with her arms crossed. “What does it say?”
“Stop doing that!” I exclaimed. “Standing there like you’ve got it all worked out.”
Janey sat next to me. Her voice softened. “I’m not being horrible. I wanted to help. What does the label say?”
“There isn’t one,” I replied. “At least, there used to be but mum must have cut it out.”
I felt odd. I wasn’t near to tears or anything but I just felt odd. “What is she up to?” I asked.
“Maybe your mum just wants to help…” Janey said. “…be on your side.”
Maybe. There were times when I knew my mum was on my side. My dad was always keen to know whether I had taken up sport and several times I heard my mum on the phone telling him not to put pressure on me. When I started to grow my hair I wondered if she would make me get it cut but she didn’t, even though it was the first thing my father mentioned when he met me off the plane each summer, and I know my mum made him promise he was not going to take me to some American hair dresser while I was away. She never tried to get me to be tougher or asked why I didn’t have any boys as friends. On the other hand, I never thought she was trying to turn me into a girl. I explained all this to Janey.
“Maybe she isn’t turning you into a girl, Jem” she said eventually.
“You said she was!”
“Maybe she just wants you to be who you are,” she continued. “You know you’re not like other boys. Maybe she is trying to help you fit in.”
I looked at her. It was true. I wasn’t like other boys. I didn’t fit in. In fact, I didn’t want to fit in. I was happy at school, happy being friends with Janey, happy when Janey and the other girls included me. I was relieved that I rarely had to spend much time with boys. Getting changed for PE was about the only time boys and girls had to separate off but I always went to a corner by myself, anyway; not with the boys or with the girls.
Janey nudged me. “You’ve gone all serious. Cheer up.”
I tried a half smile.
“I’m getting changed,” she said, jumping up from the bed. She took her navy top and a couple of things from the drawers and left the room. “Be back soon!”
I flopped backwards and lay on her bed. What a strange few days it had been. I stared at my socks. They were multi coloured stripes; surely not girly at all. I had seen lots of boys wearing socks like that. Possibly, I was getting too old for this sort of thing. I thought I should mention that to my mum when I got the chance. Socks with just one colour would be best but nothing too boring, maybe red or orange.
Janey returned and did a twirl before me. The stars on her blue top sparkled as she came to a halt and stood, hands on hips and one shoulder pointing upwards. I laughed. She looked good in navy tights and a denim skirt. She did another twist around and slapped me playfully on my knees. She always cheered me up.
“It looks good on you,” I said.
“And on you,” she replied. “Same top, different colour!”
“True,” I said moving my arm to see the stars react to the light. She dropped some clothes onto my lap. I felt them before I saw them. On my lap Janey had thrown a pair of purple tights and a denim skirt, just like hers.
“Your turn!”
I started to laugh, as if it were a joke, but then stopped. Janey’s face was deadly serious and, to be honest, I thought, ‘why not?’, everything was so up in the air odd and extraordinary at the moment.
I went to the bathroom and took off my jeans and socks. I had to sit down to put the tights on and I struggled at first to get them all the way up my legs; a combination of hopping, standing and sitting down again did it! Straight away I liked the encased feeling on my legs. I had never worn tights before and hadn’t even wondered how they would feel. Why would I? I picked up the skirt and hesitated. Was I proving other people right about me? I didn’t wait long. I pulled it up and did the zip at the side. I then went back to face Janey.
To be honest, I expected her to laugh or make a joke or something and then, I suppose, I would have laughed and it would have been yet another of those fun things we did, a new experience but nothing more. It could all have been over before tea time.
Instead, Janey stared at me and looked lost for words. I stood waiting for her to speak and feeling more foolish the longer it went on.
“Jem,” she said, eventually. “Jem…”
She turned me to face her wardrobe mirror and I saw myself for the first time. A chill started somewhere near my feet and travelled up through my body and out the top of my head. Nothing before had given me the jitters like this, I was buzzing in my stomach.
“Jem…” she said again. “You are a girl!”
I looked at her and then back at my reflection. “I know,” I said. “I am!”
If this were a film or on TV or something, at this point Janey’s mum would have burst in and found me and there would have been some great drama; either because I would be shocked at being discovered doing something wrong or because Janey’s mum would be scandalised. But it was nothing like that. I sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at my legs in the tights. I loved the way they looked. I even loved the top now as, for the first time, the shiny stars made sense.
I felt different, couldn’t stop looking at the ten year old girl in the mirror; either at my tights encased legs or in the mirror for the full effect. I had worn fancy dress costumes in the past (never as a girl, though) and I had dressed up for weddings but this was completely different. I didn’t feel ‘dressed up’, I just felt as if this was right. I looked right. I looked proper or complete.
Thing was, I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to change back but I couldn’t concentrate on anything else. I picked up a doll but then put it down again. Janey suggested we play something but I wanted to just ‘be’. I couldn’t stay away from a mirror for long and each time I was fascinated by what I saw. I think Janey thought I was vain but it was different for her. She was always dressed like a girl. For me, this was a discovery. I was still staring in the mirror when Janey’ mum called up to us.
“Jem, your mum just ‘phoned to say your dinner will be ready in ten minutes!”
I looked at Janey.
“You’d better get changed,” she said.
I shook my head, slowly. I knew what I wanted to do. “I’ll go like this,” I said and then added, in case she thought I was being rude, “I promise to get your tights and skirt back to you.”
“Keep them…” she said. “…If you want them.”
Want them! I didn’t think I’d ever wear anything else ever again.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Janey asked, her concerned face returning.
I nodded. “I have to,” I said. “I know that now.”
“Wait,” said Janey jumping into action. “Your shoes!” I was about to step back in to my red crocs. “You cannot wear those with purple tights.” She went to her wardrobe and threw her black converse low tops at me. “These will be better,” she said. I put them on and could see she was right. I stood in front of her and she nodded.
“Now, you’re all set, I’m coming with you,” she said.
Janey’s mum didn’t say a thing as I thanked her for having me and Janey explained that she was just walking home with me. I wasn’t brave enough to look at her mum directly but, as soon as I stepped out the front door, the jitters returned to my stomach. Although it was only two streets to my house it felt like a long walk. More than once I wondered if I should have got changed but I also knew that I liked wearing this outfit, that it suited me and, most important of all, it felt right.
Janey was encouraging me the whole way with phrases and expressions better suited to the sports lessons but, to be honest, her voice was too much. I actually needed silence.
I didn’t say anything to her, though. It would have been unkind and I was concentrating too much on putting one foot in front of the other and trying to find the right words to say to my mum. There were loads of kids from school who lived on these two streets but, fortunately, most were indoors eating. As I turned into my street, Janey at my side, we almost bumped into Joe from my class. He stopped and looked at us.
“Hi Janey, Hi Jem,” he said. He was a nice, gentle boy, not one of the boys who thought he was big and tough but you could see he was trying hard to think of something to say having spotted me in a skirt.
“You off home?” he asked eventually.
“Mum said it was time to eat,” I replied. “See you.”
“Yeah, see you Jem… Janey…” he said and we continued on up the street.
“I don’t think he’ll tell anyone,” Janey said to make me feel better.
“He will,” I said. “Anyway, I want him to.” It must have been the real me coming out because I would never have been that brave before. I hated being the centre of attention and I avoided all fuss if I could. Yet I was glad that Joe had seen me as a girl.
“At least he didn’t laugh at me,” he said. I didn’t even think he would laugh behind my back but I knew others would. What was surprising me was that even knowing there might be trouble ahead did not deter me. I seemed to have uncovered a new inner determination along with my new gender.
At my front door I said goodbye to Janey. I knew she was bursting to come inside too but I wanted to face my mum alone. I thanked her and said I hoped she understood.
“I do, but you phone me later or else…” she said turning to go. “Good luck, Jem,” she shouted. I went in alone.
by Ollie
My mum turned me into a girl. Well, actually it was her new friend, Alison, but my mum played along and, being my mum, she has to take the blame. Looking back I realised that Alison and my mum were very clever. I didn't see it coming and by the time I did, it was too late. It started when I was nine years old and by the time I was ten you could say that their mission was pretty much accomplished.
I know three facts and have one opinion about what happened to me. Fact one was that my mum and dad split up when I was five or six. It didn't really affect me. Mum and me got along just fine and I saw my dad from time to time, weekends usually and the ones when he wasn't working, so, although I didn't see a lot of him, there was no big problem to deal with and mum and him got along just fine too when they had to sort out anything to do with me. It's important to know that I was a good boy. I always did as I was told. That is fact two!
Fact three is that my life changed when Alison, entered our lives. Actually, I should say, 'Alison and her daughter, Hannah, entered our lives', since they came as a pair and an 'empowered' pair to use Alison's favourite word. To start with it was a lot of fun having Alison around. She was a larger than life character, always thinking up new things for us to do, new places to visit. We never had so many days out. And to be honest I quite liked having Hannah around as well. It was like a new sister had arrived. She was the same age as me and we played quite well together, never really falling out. We always played games that both boys and girls could play without feeling stupid. This was a rule we had made when they started visiting. I didn't get out my soldiers or what Alison called my 'aggressive computer games' and Hannah didn't bring her dolls. The only problem was that I wasn't allowed to play with Josh when Hannah was at our house.
"Oliver can't play today Josh dear" I heard my mum say at the front door. "We've got visitors for the weekend. He'll see you at school on Monday".
"Why can't Josh play too?" I asked her when she closed the door.
"It isn't fair on Hannah" she replied. I didn't ever argue with my mum, not because she was strict but because… well, I just never did. I did sulk, though, if I didn't like something and I sulked the day that Josh got turned away. And to make the point I told Hannah I wasn't in the mood to play with her and mooched upstairs to my room. I wouldn't dare storm up the stairs which is why I heard the conversation that followed.
"You see, Judy" I heard Alison say.
"He's just like any nine year old. He wants his own way and gets upset when he can't have it," my mum replied.
"Yes, they all start out like that and look what happens. Take my advice and act while you can."
"Oh I think I you're making too much of it. He's fine."
"Judy, Judy, I hope you're right my dear but if you would just listen to me… " which was all I heard as Alison walked to the kitchen and out of earshot.
Something about the way Alison spoke worried me. So did the fact that I knew she was talking about me and had obviously formed a strong opinion about something I did or didn't do. My opinion? Well, you'll have to wait for that.
Although that conversation worried me, Alison never gave me any cause to be afraid of her. She was always really friendly. After twenty minutes or so she came upstairs to find me on my own in my room. I was playing on my Play Station and felt immediately self- conscious about the game when she entered my room. Too much killing for her, I thought.
"Alright Ollie? Are you feeling a bit sad on your own?" she asked in her bright, 'let's have fun voice' that I usually liked so much.
"Not really, I just wanted Josh to play," I replied feeling a bit pathetic in the face of her breezy personality.
"Ah dear, poor thing. Hannah's feeling sad too. She came here to play with you and doesn't really understand why she's being ignored."
"I'm not ignoring her"
"But you're not playing with her. You're practising killing people instead aren't you?" There was a slight edge to her voice when she said this last bit but the smile never left her face.
"I'm just coming down now," I said as I packed up my game.
"Lovely!" Alison stood, smiled at me but with a 'look' in her eye that reminded me that she had definite opinions about me and I wasn't sure I wanted to now what they were.
When I got downstairs Hannah was practising ballet moves. I slumped on the sofa waiting for her to finish. She was good. My mum was watching in wide-eyed amazement. "I had no idea you were so good" she said.
"I don't get to practise when I come around here," Hannah answered. "Mum said it wouldn't be fair on Ollie."
"Oh Ollie won't mind will you Ollie?"
I didn't know what to say. I really didn't mind her doing her ballet steps but I'd come down to play. Alison made me think Hannah was downstairs waiting for me.
"Join in, Ollie." Alison said.
"No, " I said a little too quickly because it sounded almost defiant. It wasn't, it was more embarrassed.
"Ollie!" I had spoken sharply and Mum was shocked. She looked hard at me as if she was seeing something for the first time.
"Alright, but I don't know what to do," I said getting up from the sofa.
"Take your slippers off first, then follow what I do, "Hannah said. So I did. It wasn't easy, not as easy as Hannah made it look but I did get better and it was fun.
"You're really good," Alison said. "You should go to ballet lessons. Hannah will take you"
"Oh go on, Ollie," Hannah joined in.
"No thanks," I said. I couldn't face being laughed at. I didn't mind pretending with Hannah privately at home but I didn't want anyone finding out, even though it was fun. At one stage I tried to keep my left leg in the air as long as Hannah could. She had her leg right up high but I couldn't manage it. I laughed as I tried to keep my balance and my mum laughed and Hannah and Alison joined in. We were all laughing and when I collapsed on the floor it was as if it was the funniest thing in the world. Well that just led to other things and we were soon trying out jumps and I tried a twirl which I couldn't do properly at all. We were having so much fun that I didn't hear my mum leave the room and I only noticed when I heard her on the phone.
"Hello Josh. It's Ollie's mummy." Mummy? Since when had she been mummy? I always called her 'mum'. "Would you like to come round and play? Hannah and Ollie are doing their ballet practice. I'm sure they won't mind if you want to join them. No? Okay then dear." I heard the phone go down and mum came in. "Ollie, I called Josh but he's busy. He'll see you at school on Monday," she told me.
"Why did you phone him?"
"Well I thought you could all play together as you and Hannah are getting on so well."
"Yes but why tell him I was doing ballet?" I asked in a hurt voice making sure I wasn't too loud even though I wanted to scream at her. It would be all around school in no time.
"You are doing ballet Ollie," Alison replied. "Did you expect your mummy to tell a lie?" Mummy again!
"Josh didn't need to know," I said.
"Is there something wrong with ballet, Ollie?" Alison asked.
"No, but…"
"Didn't you have fun?"
I didn't wan to answer so Alison just repeated the question.
"Yes, I did but…"
"Well, I'm confused aren't you Judy?" Alison looked at my um in a 'told you so' way.
"It's just that boys don't really do ballet…" I suggested weakly.
"But you're a boy and you were doing it," Alison replied. Everything she said sounded so reasonable but I felt trapped. It was as if she was being too clever for me.
"It's just that Josh will tell everyone at school and they'll laugh and…" I looked around. I didn't seem to be convincing anyone.
"I thought Josh was your friend," Alison said.
"He is."
"Your best friend?"
"Yes."
"Then why should he want to make fun of you? If he does that he isn't much of a friend." She was too clever for me.
When Alison and Hannah left that evening I could tell that my mum was annoyed with me. She didn't say anything but she was not happy with me. I could always tell. While we were watching television she gave me strange looks out of the corner of her eye when she thought I wasn't looking. There was none of the fun of watching a programme together when we would laugh at or share comments. When she finally got around to speaking to me there was an edge to her voice she seemed to have picked up from Alison, but there was no smile.
"I'm ashamed of the way you behaved today. You were so ungrateful."
"I'm sorry," I said keeping my eyes fixed on the carpet. I didn't want her to see my eyes filling with tears. I couldn't bear her being cross with me and she was so seldom cross that it always upset me when she was.
"Alison and Hannah come around here and spend time with us, the least you could do would be to make them welcome."
"I do."
"You didn't today. All that fuss about ballet."
"I joined in with the ballet. I just didn't want Josh to know."
"You don't want Josh to know what? That you were having fun? That Hannah is a good friend?"
I didn't say anything. I didn't understand why it wasn't obvious to my mum that school would be terrible if everyone found out.
"Well, I hope you are better behaved tomorrow," she continued. Hannah and Alison are coming round and I shall expect you to tell Hannah yourself that you want to practise ballet. That might make her feel better about the events of today. It is the least you can do. Understand?"
"Yes, mum," I said weakly.
"Yes, Mummy!" she corrected me. 'Mummy' again. She never expected me to call her that.
"Yes, mummy," I said.
The next day I did as I was told almost as soon as Hannah was through the door. "I told you he enjoyed it Hannah," said Alison, laughing. "Poor Hannah thought she upset you by making you join in."
My mum looked across at me.
"She didn't make me. I wanted to try it," I said. "I really liked it."
"Why don't you two run along and play?" said Alison, "so that Judy and me can have a little chat and make some plans." She laughed as she guided my mum to the kitchen and Hannah led me upstairs.
"Oh Ollie, I'm so glad you want to dance. We can practice together and be partners," Hannah gushed as we went into my room. "Why don't you join my dance class?" she continued.
"I don't think I'm good enough yet," I stalled.
"You are brilliant," she replied. I didn't want another falling out with my mum and I was glad that Alison wasn't around to overhear or I was sure she would have trapped me into something else I didn't want to do.
"Tell you what," I said, "When I'm good enough I'll join but let's keep it a secret so that we can surprise our mums."
"Oh Ollie, that's a brilliant plan," Hannah said. She then took out two black leotards from her bag. She handed one to me. "Mummy said you could have my spare leotard so I brought it along."
"This is for me?" I said as I stared at the leotard dangling from her hand.
"Its better to have these. We can move more easily."
"Don't boys wear tights and a T shirt?" I asked.
"When you start classes I'm sure your mum will buy you the right things." She replied.
I hesitated holding the leotard not quite sure what to do next. Hannah undressed down to her knickers and put her leotard on. I was frozen with confusion not only because Hannah had got undressed in front of me without any embarrassment but also because I was obviously expected to wear the girl's leotard she had leant me. I couldn't face another falling out with my mum so I slowly started to undo my trousers. I pulled the leotard up and stretched it over my left shoulder but it was too tight. I thought if I continued I would rip it so with a large amount of relief I took it off again.
"Oh Ollie, I'm sorry," she said looking crestfallen. "It's my old one and I have grown a bit since then."
"It doesn't matter," I said trying to sound sorry. At least I had tried and my mum couldn't blame me for the leotard being too small. Hannah, though, had rushed off downstairs with the sad news. I got dressed again but mum and Alison were in my room before I got my sweatshirt back on.
"Oh Ollie, I'm sorry. I thought it might be a bit small," Alison said.
"Its okay," I said.
"So I brought another in case. Try this one!" Alison said with just a hint of command in her voice taking a brand new leotard out of her plastic shopping bag.
I stared at it and knew I had been cornered again. I dropped my trousers for a second time and reluctantly stepped into the new leotard. It was a perfect fit. I somehow knew it would be.
"Is it okay?" Alison asked.
"Yes, it fits," I said.
"Come here then," she said and snipped the price tag off. "We wanted to be sure in case it had to go back but as it is such a perfect fit..." She stepped back to admire me standing in front of them in my leotard feeling very silly indeed.
"Come on Ollie, let's dance," said Hannah grabbing me by the hand and leading me away but not before I heard my mum say to Alison, "I'll settle up with you before you go."
To be honest, I forgot about feeling silly in the leotard all the while we were dancing. Hannah could be great fun to be with even though she was a girl and I didn't normally play with girls. She had the same infectious laugh as her mother and, I noticed, the same knack for getting her own way. We were giggling like… well, like girls… in no time. When we stopped for lunch we didn't bother to get changed and it was only when mum and Alison set up the table in the garden that I again became self- conscious about wearing a girl's leotard. I didn't want the neighbours to see me. I was already worrying about what Josh was going to say at school on Monday.
"I'll eat in the kitchen," I said, even though I knew it was a waste of time.
"You'll eat with us!" my mum retorted and I tried to slide onto the patio so that no one would notice me. As soon as I was seated I felt better. From a distance it probably looked like I was wearing a T- shirt- a T- shirt with a low neck but that was okay. Mr Thomas, our next -door neighbour on the right, was in his garden. I had known him ever for as long as I could remember and I was always going around his house with food my mum had cooked for him. He was an old soldier and I loved hearing his stories about places in the world he had visited and the things he had seen. It was because of him that I wanted to be a soldier when I grew up. He even called me 'Soldier'. It was like a little joke between us. At first he didn't see us but mum called to him and asked him if he wanted any of her carrot cake. He loved my mum's cooking and, as he lived alone, my mum liked to bake for him.
"Ollie, take some cake over to Mr Thomas," mum commanded.
"Hannah's closer," I replied and then regretted it because the look she shot me got me out of the chair as quick as anything.
"Can I get changed first?" I asked.
"Don't be silly, he's only over there," mum replied. I then had to walk across the garden in full view of Mr Thomas wearing the leotard. I was conscious of how long my legs looked and the fact that I had very little covering me.
"Hello soldier. Are you playing dressing up?" Mr Thomas asked not quite disguising the disapproval in his voice.
"We're doing ballet," Hannah replied breezily. I hadn't seen her arrive behind me.
"Ballet eh! I didn't know you went to ballet, soldier."
"I don't," I started to explain but Hannah interrupted,
"He's really good. My mum says he's as graceful as a girl."
I stared at her. I didn't know Alison had said that.
"We're becoming the terrible twins, or that is what my mum says," Hannah continued. I then went red. I hated the fact that she was announcing all this to the man who told me great stories about his life in the army.
"We had better go," I said trying to get away from the fence. It was horrible that Mr Thomas had seen me dressed like this and I wanted to get away as quickly as possible. This was all too embarrassing. I actually thought for a moment that it might be better to ask if I could go to a ballet class as then at least I would get to wear what boys wear. I didn't dwell on this though.
"Goodbye young miss and goodbye Oliver. Thank your mother for the cake for me." Hannah skipped away. I walked back across the lawn trying hard to think it wasn't significant that Mr Thomas had called me Oliver rather than soldier.
I wore the leotard all day. I tried to get changed back several times during the afternoon but each time Hannah insisted we kept them on in case we did some more ballet. I didn't want to but neither did I want to upset Hannah or her mother. I knew my mum was watching me…and listening to what I said. I didn't give her any reason to be cross with me again. At one stage I was so fed up with trying to pull the leotard down and stop it riding up over my bottom that I said, "I wish I had tights on."
"We should get you some," Hannah said.
"I can't see my mum buying me tights," I said. Which was true, I couldn't.
The biggest shock came at the end of the day, though, when Alison and Hannah were leaving. Mum called me down to say goodbye.
"I'll give you back the leotard," I said wanting to give it back.
"Don't be silly dear," said Alison, "That's yours to keep. Your mummy paid for it. See you next weekend" and she kissed me on the cheek as they left.
I was stunned. I had my own leotard. What was I going to do with it? Would I have to wear it again? I decided I had to ask my mum even though I knew it might cause a row.
"Why have I got a leotard?"
"What a stupid question. If you want to do ballet you need to wear a leotard."
"But don't boys wear tights and t shirts instead?"
"Yes, I think the boys do" she said as she went off to do the washing up.
Why did she say 'the boys' like that? And what did I need a leotard for?
The answer to that second question came on Monday at school. Josh, like a good friend, didn't tell anyone about my ballet dancing but he was a little cool when I approached him on the way to school.
"Hi," he said without stopping.
"Hi."
"Did you have fun with your girlfriend?"
"She's not my girlfriend Josh. Her mum is a friend of my mum that's all."
"And you've started ballet?" he asked.
"No. I was just joining in for fun, sort of making fun of it." This satisfied him and he didn't mention it again. He didn't have to.
When it was time for PE I collected my bag to get my kit out. It wasn't there. What was there instead was my leotard. I swallowed hard.
Perhaps the best thing would be to pretend I had forgotten my kit. That seemed best. I turned just as Mrs Vincent our teacher was declaring loudly, "And if anyone had forgotten their PE kit it is a letter home because I'm fed up with excuses."
There was no point going ahead with that plan. My mum would explode if she found out, especially as she had swapped my usual kit for the leotard. I decided to tell Miss the truth. So I did.
"What you are telling me then Oliver is that you have a leotard to wear for PE today?" she said when I had explained.
"Yes, Miss."
"Fine. We're doing gymnastics. It will be perfect," she replied.
"But Miss, everyone will laugh at me," I offered weakly.
She sighed deeply. I took this as a sign of sympathy so was surprised when she stopped the whole class so that she had their attention.
"Listen everyone. Oliver has a leotard to wear today and he thinks you will all laugh at him. Does anyone here find that funny?" She looked around the room at the class, which included my friends, all shaking their heads to suggest that no one would find that funny. Not that they would dare with Miss looking on. I was shocked that she had been so blunt.
"There we are Oliver! No one is going to laugh. You can get changed now."
That wasn't what I had in mind but I was getting used to being outwitted.
"By the way, Oliver. Does this leotard belong to you or have you borrowed it?"
There was a silence while she waited and the usual noise of children getting changed had died down too so that they could all hear the answer.
"Its mine, miss," I said quietly.
"Have you taken up ballet?" she demanded in a voice that was unnecessarily loud.
"Sort of miss," I whispered, looking across at Josh.
"Good," she said briskly before moving on. Josh glared back at me.
The PE lesson was a nightmare. Five of us had leotards and, of course, I was the only boy. I used to like PE but that day was terrible. I spent most of the lesson trying to pull down the back of the leotard to cover my behind. It felt as if I had nothing to cover my modesty and to make it worse I was aware of the bulge down my front which although not large was quite obvious especially when I stood next to a girl wearing exactly the same as me. Lots of the other kids noticed too. To be fair all the girls were sweet. One, Molly, told me she was going to get a leotard too because I looked so good in mine. Another, Faye, told me I was really brave and if I wanted she would give me the name of her ballet teacher so we could go to classes together. The boys didn't say a word. They didn't laugh- they wouldn't dare while miss was in the room but when we had to go back to class I couldn't get into the line. All the boys formed a close line up which kept me out and I found myself at the back with the girls. Josh, who usually let me slip into the line next to him, didn't even look at me.
Back at class we got changed in silence. I was so pleased my ordeal was over. It was playtime next and Mrs Vincent was on duty so she told those of us still in the room to hurry up, she was off to the playground. That was when the boys started. It was quiet at first but I heard it alright. "Girl, girl" they chanted and as the others joined in it got louder. I went red. I knew it was me they were getting at. "Girl, girl, girl," the chant went on. I felt like crying but I knew that if I did things would get worse so I kept my head down trying to ignore them. So I didn't see Jordan, a kid who thinks he's tough and hard, grab the leotard from my bag.
"Ah look," he mocked. "His mummy has sewn his name inside. She had as well. Unfortunately, the label didn't cover the 'Princess Wear' logo which Jordan found highly amusing. He threw it across the room where another boy caught it and chucked it back. This became a game where the boys threw it to each other with me chasing them around, which was exactly what they wanted. Tears were now falling. I couldn't help it and, even though it made me look more like a girl, I cried. Eventually someone threw the leotard to Josh. He hesitated, holding on to it with me looking at him through my tears. He held it for long enough for me to know that he wasn't going to join in. Instead he handed it back to me.
"Thanks, Josh," I said but he was already on his way out of the classroom and he didn't wait for me. The other boys lost interest and left too but I knew that they wouldn't let this matter drop.
Walking home that day, without Josh- he had rushed out of school, a girl in my class caught up with me. "I think its great that you do ballet," she said. I was going to say that I didn't but I couldn't think of a better explanation for having a leotard. I felt trapped. It felt better to let people think that I did ballet to hide the truth- that my mum had just bought one for me- for a reason I still hadn't worked out. I was still finding the truth a bit puzzling. I couldn't work out what was going on. All I knew was that I had gone from being someone who got on with all the boys to being an outcast in the space of one lesson.
To add to my confusion I knew that when my mum asked me how my day was I wouldn't tell her about how awful it had been at PE. I couldn't put my finger on it but I knew that something was going on and that, although Alison was behind it, my mum was heavily involved. I did ask her why I didn't have my PE kit, though.
"You did. I packed it myself," mum answered.
"You packed the leotard," I reminded her.
"Yes. The school uniform list says leotards can be worn for PE," she replied.
"But girls wear leotards, mum."
"As a matter of fact you wear a leotard, Ollie," she said. "I saw you this weekend, or have you forgotten?"
"That was just a bit of fun," I said. "I was just pretending to be a dancer."
"Oh, so you were lying to Hannah were you? She thought you were enjoying yourself."
"I was but, " I could see myself getting tied up in an argument I couldn't win. "Couldn't I just have my shorts and T shirt for the next PE lesson," I asked trying hard to keep the desperation out of my voice.
"No you can't. That leotard has replaced your old kit which needed throwing out anyway. I'm not made of money, you know. If you told the truth about disliking ballet you wouldn't be in this mess," she announced.
"But you were cross with me for upsetting Hannah," I said defensively.
"I'm cross with you for lying to her as well," she said. "I don't know what has come over you recently." It was quite clear that this was the end of the matter as far as she was concerned and I was stuck with a leotard.
The leotard was back in my bag later that week. I had tried pretending to be sick when I realised there was another PE lesson that day but it hadn't worked. I didn't really expect it too but the thought of another humiliation was too much. It was pretty much a re-run of the earlier lesson. The worse thing was no matter how I moved I felt that I looked like a girl. I couldn't move like the boys and they instinctively moved away from me every time I went near them. To add to this, I spent most of the time trying to stretch the leotard downwards to cover more of me. Nobody actually laughed or said anything horrible while Miss was in the room but as soon as we were getting changed the boys started chanting again, "Girl, girl." Josh didn't join in but he hadn't really spent any time with me for days and he rushed out of school every day so that he didn't have to walk home with me. At the same time, girls who had never spoken to me before starting treating me as a friend and talking to me, particularly on the way home.
I tried to solve the problem of the leotard by telling my mum a lie. I hadn't told her a lie before and as I did it I could feel my face burning. I thought she would surely realise I wasn't telling the truth.
"We're doing PE outside next week so I need to take my outdoor kit." I told her. I had a perfectly good kit so there should be no problem there.
"What do the girls wear?" she asked. I wasn't sure why she wanted to know but I didn't feel easy about it.
"The same as the boys, tops and shorts, " I said. "Or track suits."
"Right," she replied with a far away look in her eye. I didn't like it.
"Some even wear football tops like mine," I said, quickly. It was true. Molly did.
"Some do, do they?" she said. "So some don't." And that was that, or as far as I was concerned it was.
Hannah and Alison were back on Friday night to stay the weekend.
"Hannah has a surprise for you,' Alison announced shortly after tea. Hannah's face brightened and she rushed to get something from her bag. Alison and my mum had big smiles on their faces. They obviously knew what it was and I knew that I would be expected to play my part. I also somehow knew I wasn't going to like it but I wasn't expecting what Hannah was now holding out for me.
"Tights?" I said weakly.
"Yes, they're yours now. We're the same size so they're bound to fit," Hannah bubbled.
My mum and Alison grinned and shared a look. I was speechless. I still hadn't taken the tights off Hannah but I knew I was the centre of attention, again.
"Hannah told me you wanted some," Alison continued.
"I didn't," I protested. I knew I had said it too loudly and I could see my mum's face clouding over but surely she would realise this wasn't true. "I never said that," I continued.
Hannah looked upset. "Sorry, Ollie, when we were dancing I thought you said you wished you were wearing tights."
"Did you say that, Ollie?" my mum asked.
"No!" I protested.
"Hannah, how could you lie like that?" Alison said to her daughter. Hannah looked confused and looked at me.
Yes, well…" I began. "I did say it… but I didn't mean it like that."
"Sorry Ollie," Hannah said again.
"So how did you mean it?" Alison asked, her smile in place but her voice already changing.
"Well, I didn't like wearing…" I hesitated. I could see whatever I said my mum wouldn't like it. "I thought tights might cover more of my legs," I said finally.
"and you said you couldn't see your mum buying you any, isn't that right?" Hannah continued.
"Did you say that, Ollie?" mum asked.
I had said that- exactly that.
"Yes."
"So I thought you wanted some but were too shy to ask your mum to buy you some," Hannah continued.
"And she brought you a pair of hers to have," Alison added.
"Hannah, that is so lovely of you," my mum gushed.
"I'm so glad you didn't lie to me," Alison said.
"What a shame Ollie can't tell the truth," my mum joined in.
"They're not old or ruined or anything and they will go so well with your T-shirt," Hannah continued trying to make me feel better. I was wearing my blue and white hooped T-shirt. 'Like a French sailor,' Mr Thomas once told me. I said nothing in reply and I still hadn't taken the tights off her.
My mum took over at this point.
"Thank you Hannah, you are very sweet." She took the tights from her and gave me a hard look.
"We need to have a little talk, IN YOUR ROOM."
When we got there she left me in no doubt that I was in big trouble.
"How could you?" she hissed not wanting to shout because the others would hear. "How could you lie? Hannah has been so kind and you have thrown it back in her face."
"But I don't want to wear tights, mum," I said. "I'm a boy."
"Then why did you tell her you did?" she demanded.
"I don't know. I was bothered about the leotard and…" I didn't get the chance to explain properly.
"Take your trousers off," mum directed and I obeyed immediately. "AND your socks." She took the tights and gathered them up so that she had the feet ready to put on me. She pushed me and I fell backwards onto my bed. When she had the tights halfway up my legs she snapped, "Stand up" and, when I did, she worked the tights all the way up and snapped them into place. I didn't get the chance to argue anymore and I was in no doubt that complaining would be useless. I looked down and saw the legs of a girl in navy blue tights. I tried to tell myself that many boys wear tights for ballet but I was wearing girl's tights. It was obvious from the label. I wondered if I would have my name sewn into these as well. Mum pulled my T shirt back into place.
"Now you get downstairs and make sure you show Alison and Hannah how grateful you are," mum commanded.
I stepped back into my slippers and followed her down the stairs feeling stupid in the tights but grateful that at least no one else could see me. Alison was making coffee in the kitchen and Hannah was helping her when I edged in to the room. They both smiled. "You look great," said Alison. "Doesn't he, Hannah?" My mum turned to face me expecting me to respond.
"They are really comfortable. Thank you, Hannah," I said. It wasn't enough for mum who continued to glare at me. "I've always wanted a pair of tights of my own," I continued. "It was kind of you to think of me." This seemed to satisfy her. Her face relaxed.
"Coffee, cake and telly," said Alison breezily. "We can all celebrate. Ollie has always wanted a pair of tights and now he has got some and, if you don't mind me saying so, you look absolutely wonderful. What do you think Judy?"
Mum looked at me, and her smile returned. "You look gorgeous, Ollie," she said.
We all sat on the sofa together but I sat with my legs tucked under me. That way I didn't have to look at my own legs. I could feel the tights all over my legs constricting them. It was a strange feeling but at least I could keep this private, I thought. I was glad that Hannah didn't go to my school. I didn't know what I would do if everyone found out about this.
So I was shocked when mum said, "Oh, I nearly forgot the pie for Mr Thomas. Ollie take it round to him please."
"I'll go and get dressed," I said.
"Don't be silly, you are dressed," Alison said.
"And you can pop round in your slippers," mum continued.
I didn't feel able to argue and I knew I had been outsmarted again. I collected the pie and stepped out the front door wearing only tights, T-shirt and slippers. All I needed now was someone from school to see me and I was finished. I stood at the front door wondering whether I could just throw the pie away and pretend I had done the errand. I knew it wouldn't work but I hated the thought that Mr Thomas would see me dressed in tights. Luckily for me I couldn't see a single person in the street and I shuffled as quickly as I could into Mr Thomas's front garden. I rang his bell and hopped from foot to foot willing him to hurry to the door. Being old it seemed to take him ages. I kept looking up and down the road but, apart from a car which went past, nobody else was around. Eventually, Mr Thomas opened the door.
"Hello, Mr Thomas. I've brought a pie mum made," I said.
He didn't invite me in like he usually did. Instead he looked me up and down.
"That's very kind of you mother, Oliver. Please thank her for me," he said in a formal voice. One I wasn't used to hearing.
I wondered if I should tell him that I didn't want to wear the tights but I didn't know how to bring the subject up so I didn't and he didn't ask. In fact, he didn't mention the tights at all but his look made it clear he disapproved. I left and scuttled home as quickly as possible.
When I got back the three of them were watching television and mum and Alison opened their arms to welcome me onto the sofa. This was the bit I really liked and I snuggled up between them feeling safe and looking forward to doing nothing other than watching television. Doing this was the best thing because we all got on and it was like having a new family. We hadn't been like this since my dad left and although my mum and me had always got on well it wasn't the same as having other people there as well. People who made you feel like family.
"We're going shopping tomorrow," Alison said. "If you like we'll get you a couple more pairs of tights. Would you like that Ollie?"
Inwardly, I groaned but I replied, "That would be brilliant."
I could tell from the way my mum sighed that I had said the right thing. I was relieved for the time being. It felt good to have pleased her. I didn't seem to do that as much as I used to.
Ollie's mum has a new friend called Alison. Together with her daughter, Hannah, they are spending a lot of time with Ollie and his mum. Ollie finds himself playing with Hannah's games; something which led to him wearing his first leotard and his very own pairs of tights.
"Sorry, Ollie, I've only got girls' magazines," she said.
"That's okay," I replied. "I'll read one of yours." So I did. Mum and Alison exchanged looks in the front and Hannah and I settled back to read and I felt great inside because it felt as if everyone was getting on okay and it wasn't me spoiling it.
The day got better because Alison and mum decided that we didn't have to hang around with them. They thought it would be better to shop without us. "Hannah needs new underwear and a few tops and we don't need you for those," Alison said. "We'll meet you later." They even gave us money for lunch! The only slight problem was that mum asked me in the street what colour tights I wanted. She spoke far too loudly for my liking. I hesitated. I thought I could forget about them. I looked around to see if anyone had heard but mum asked again in an even louder voice I replied really quickly, "Can I have a black pair, please?"
"Of course you can love," mum replied. "I'll get you a couple of pairs. Any other colours?"
"No you choose," I said quickly.
Mum mentioning tights again had shaken me up. I had hoped they were forgotten about but I didn't want to spoil the day and we were having such fun so I put it to the back of my mind. Wanting to spend some more time with Hannah, we raced off.
Spending time with a girl was different. We went in shops I had never been into before, clothes shops and shops where they sold 'accessories' as Hannah called them. She knew such a lot as well about colour and style. There was a lot of that sort of thing in her magazines so I could see why she knew all about it. We looked at a lot of earrings and she held some up against her ears.
"I really want to have my ears pierced," she said. "Mum says I have to be ten before I can have them done. What about you, Ollie?"
"Oh, I don't know." Some older boys at school had an earring but nobody in my class did and I had never really thought about it. I knew that Mr Thomas wouldn't approve. I had heard him dismiss boys who had earrings as girls. We also went to look at CDs and I got a commentary on who was 'in' and who wasn't. I didn't really know much about it but Hannah knew loads. She also told me who was 'hot' and which posters she had on her bedroom wall. All in all I learned a lot from being with her. She bought a CD of the latest boy band. They were 'in' and 'hot' and I got carried away by her enthusiasm and bought a poster of them. We debated whether the poster of them all in black was better than the one of them shirtless and in the end I chose the shirtless one. Hannah approved of my choice. That felt good.
Later, when we met up with our mums Hannah asked if we could have our ears pierced.
"When you are ten. I've told you before," Alison said but my mum replied, "When your hair is a bit longer, Ollie." Hannah was disappointed with her response but I wasn't. I didn't want an earring but mum had never talked about me having longer hair before. She had always made me keep it quite short, like most of the boys in my class. I tried to comfort Hannah, though. "It's not long to wait. I'll be ten in November and you'll be ten soon after."
"I suppose you're right," she said. "But that means you can have your ears pierced before me."
"I promise you that I won't get it done before you," I said. I had really come to like Hannah and I found myself wanting to please her.
"Great, we can get it done on the same day," she said cheering up.
"Okay," I said. At the time keeping her happy was more important and it was only later that I realised what I had agreed to.
Back home that afternoon, Alison got all her purchases out for us to inspect. She had new underwear and a few new T-shirts and tops. The underwear was all in pastel shades, quite unlike the pants I wore. The best thing we all agreed, though, was a new top for Hannah, orange with a large silver star across the middle filled with other stars of decreasing size in alternate orange and silver. The effect was dramatic. I wanted to remain in mum's good books so went over the top in praising it in front of Hannah. She loved it and wanted to put it on right away but was told to wait. My mum then produced my tights. Two pairs: black and lime green. The black didn't look so bad, but lime green? I was going to ask why mum chose that colour but Alison said, "wait for your surprise," and another orange top with a silver star was produced. "It's for you," mum said.
"And to complete the picture…" Alison said as she produced a pair of lime green tights for Hannah. "You really will be the terrible twins, now!" she declared. I didn't know what to say at first. I was taken aback because I knew that the top was a girl's one, not to mention the tights, but Hannah was immediately enthusiastic and said we should try them on, giggling excitedly. I was going to protest. I had agreed, sort of, to the tights but no one said anything about girls' tops. My mum glared at me to warn me against saying anything to disrupt the day so when Hannah insisted we tried them on right away I went along with it. We ran upstairs to my room and got changed. Hannah was an expert at putting on her tights. I took longer but managed on my own. "Shouldn't we be wearing shorts or something?" I asked as I looked down at my legs trapped by the tights.
"No," Hannah said. "Tights and T shirts are just great for indoors," and she raced downstairs to show off her new outfit. I followed more reluctantly but also aware that my mum was watching me and warning me against making a fuss. It was hard to see that I was wearing anything other than girls' clothes. To make matters worse Alison announced that we both looked really pretty in our new outfits. I had never been called pretty before and I didn't like it. I could feel a sulk coming on but mum was watching me closely and Hannah decided that we should dance along to the her new CD and as usual I joined in, partly because I didn't want to be in trouble and partly because Hannah's sense of fun made you want to join in with her. We spent the whole evening singing along to CDs choosing songs we liked and working out dance routines to go along with them. It was such a good evening. After a while I forgot how I was dressed. It didn't seem important and none of the others thought there was anything wrong with the clothes I was wearing. Nothing could spoil the evening. Not even Alison's remark that we looked like twins upset me.
The next day mum told me to put on the black tights with an old red sweatshirt of mine. Hannah wore another of her new tops and a denim skirt. I was going to ask mum, quietly, if I could wear my jeans over the tights but when I saw how Hannah was dressed I decided I was getting off lightly. The last thing I wanted was to be put in a skirt and I worried for most of the morning that this was yet another surprise they had waiting for me.
We put up my new boy band poster replacing an old Star Wars one which we threw in the dustbin and later we read some more of her magazines. We went through the fashion pages and Hannah suggested outfits we could both wear when we pretended to be pop singers. I didn't like some of the things she chose but there were a couple of outfits I thought I might wear, as long as it was all kept private at home. Hannah offered to leave a few old copies behind when she left so that I could read them in the week.
Sunday evening came too soon and I realised that I would miss out on the next weekend as it was my weekend with my dad.
"That's a shame, Ollie, as we were going to invite you around to our house for a change," Alison said.
That made me even more disappointed as it would have been great but my mum came to the rescue by saying she would sort things out with dad.
"That's settled then," said Alison.
"Oh, its going to be such fun, I can hardly wait," Hannah said jumping up and down and, because I was so excited too, I joined in and we were giggling and holding hands and jumping up and down and it was only when Alison said they really had to go that we stopped.
Later that night, when I had had a bath I was snuggled up close to my mum in my pyjamas. I felt strange. I had enjoyed the weekend. It had been such fun and Hannah was great to be with but when I thought back over some of the things we had done I was embarrassed. I behaved differently when Alison and Hannah were about. Not like the boy I used to be. After they had gone and I had some time to think, I started to feel differently. I could hardly believe that I had spent much of the weekend wearing tights. It was as if I forgot about how a boy should behave when they were here and my mum didn't seem to want to remind me. When they left I remembered to be boy-like again. I was thinking about this and, with the leotard incident of last week in mind, a thought occurred to me.
"Mum, I don't have to wear tights to school, do I?" My mum looked at me.
"Oh Ollie, we didn't get you any in school uniform colours," she said. I was relieved. "I'll get you some in the week," she continued.
"No, its okay," I said.
"It's no trouble," she said and I let the matter drop in case I put any other ideas in her head. Lying in bed that night I could see more trouble ahead as I stared at the poster of the shirtless boy band and wondered why I had bought it. What had I been thinking of?
It was a thought that returned in the morning when mum put clothes out for me. My uniform was there as usual but the underwear was different. In fact, it looked exactly like the underwear I saw Alison had bought for Hannah. The pants (knickers?) were pastel yellow with a vest to match. In the centre of both was a design of buttercups and daisies. And instead of my grey school socks there was a pair of white ankle socks also with a delicate flower design on them, obviously for girls!
"Mum," I called down the stairs, "I've got Hannah's underwear by mistake."
"Don't be silly. It's for you. Go and get dressed," she shouted back.
"But I'll be laughed at," I shouted down.
"Why? Do you intend taking your trousers off in front of everybody today?" she called back. "Now hurry up, your breakfast is waiting."
I felt trapped again. The underwear was obviously for girls and, it seemed, had been bought especially for me. The thought that Alison and my mum seemed determined to turn me into a girl went through my mind but I dismissed it because… well, that would be ridiculous. School was becoming hazardous with the sorts of things mum was buying for me, though. Someone was bound to see my socks and laugh. I then had an idea! Mum, or mummy as I would call her to get my own way, was right. I would not be taking down my trousers at school. There was no PE! I put on the knickers and vest and raced to the kitchen shouting,
"Mummy, can I wear my black tights today?" I stopped dead. "Oh, hello Mr Thomas," I said. "I didn't know you were here."
"I've just brought the pie dish back for your mum…your mummy," he replied. He looked at me in my underwear taking in the feminine nature of it. "I won't stop," he said and went. Once again, I was left feeling he disapproved of me.
Mum smiled at me. "You look lovely, dear," she said. "Now go upstairs and finish dressing. And don't forget to wear those lovely new socks."
I managed to get through school without any problem. I don't think anyone saw my socks. I did my best to keep them hidden but I did notice that Chloe had a pair exactly the same. I spent most of my playtimes with the girls. They invited me to play when they saw I was on my own a lot and after a while this seemed the best thing to do. They were good fun, the girls in my class. Not as much fun as Hannah but fun nevertheless and the boys pretty much ignored me now, even Josh.
Later in the week when we had PE we had to choose groups to work on a dance together and Chloe and her friends chose me. I was so grateful because none of the boys wanted me and I was scared I would be left on my own at the end. As it happened my group were all in leotards and looked brilliant because we were all wearing the same thing. The other groups were jealous. Mrs Vincent said we were the best and nobody seemed to notice much when she said 'Well done girls" at the end. I noticed, though. The truth is I worked better with the girls. If I had worked with Josh I wouldn't have worked so hard. He was in a group with Jordan and they got told off a few times for messing around. Being a PE day mum had left out boys' underwear for me to wear which I thought was silly really when you thought I changed into a leotard but I didn't argue. I was grateful. I didn't really want to have to face another lot of name-calling. The boys seemed to be used to the idea of me wearing a leotard now. They didn't keep teasing me about it but then they ignored me pretty much all the time, in the same way they treated the girls, in fact. I had a whole week's worth of new girl socks to wear, though, and I thought I had been very careful about keeping them hidden under my long trousers. The next PE day, though, I saw Josh looking at me as I put them back on. This pair was white with butterflies on the sides. "Nice socks," he said and I waited for the jokes to follow but he didn't say anything more. He didn't even sound sarcastic.
"Thanks," I said.
Friday after school I had a hair appointment. I was quite pleased when mum reminded me. I was still worrying about her comment about letting my hair get longer before I could have an earring. If I was having my hair cut she couldn't be planning on my having long hair. Sitting in the chair at the hairdressers, though, I noticed that my socks were on show to anyone who looked down. I couldn't hide them. They were a white lacy pair. The most feminine of all my new ones; the very reason I left them until the last day of the week. Mel, my hairdresser, usually asked me what I wanted even though she always knew anyway because mum always told her. Today, she didn't even ask. I sat in the chair feeling really pleased that I was there. I had convinced myself that I wouldn't be coming back here for a long time.
"Now, Ollie, mummy has told me what to do," Mel started. Mummy? All the people around me were talking to me in a way they never used to, as if I had changed in some way.
"I think she wants me to have the usual style," I said.
"She told me you would say that," Mel laughed, " but I know what you need. Just sit back." I did as I was told and Mel set to work, a job which didn't take long because it soon became clear that long hair was on the cards, after all. Mel chatted away, "What people don't always realise is that you can't just let hair grow long or it gets out of control. You have to train it into the right style. That's why I'm taking just the tiniest bit off at the sides and back so that when it grows it will start to take the right shape. Your mummy knows about these things. I love your socks by the way."
By the time mum came to get me my hair was more or less the same length as before, although it looked tidier and I now had a fringe. Usually my hair was cut so that you could see my forehead. This was the bit which seemed to grow the fastest. Mel was talking to mum, "The face now has a more oval effect, I think you'll agree. If you find the fringe is growing too quickly just pop back and I'll tidy it up. Don't worry about making an appointment."
"Oh Mel thank you. You are an angel," mum said.
"Judy, it is no problem at all. I think you are being wonderfully supportive. Not every mother would if they found themselves in your situation. I really admire you.”
I didn't know what they were talking about. Coming on top of the other changes of the last two weeks I was a bit nervous. I kept looking at my reflection in the mirror. Mel was right. The style did give me a rounder face. In fact, with the fringe I looked more like a girl. What will they say at school?
Mum reminded me, not that I needed it, that we were staying with Alison and Hannah for the weekend. I was quite sad that I wasn't seeing dad but the thought of seeing Hannah again was quite exciting. 'I can't wait to show her my new hairstyle,' I thought.
"Ollie, That hairstyle really suits you," Alison said as soon as she opened the door. It felt really good to get praise from her. Hannah was equally as enthusiastic which just made me beam. Any doubts I had about it disappeared. "You'll look so good when it grows longer," Alison continued.
"Oh Ollie, I love your hair," Hannah added. "It's the same style as mine."
I realised she was right. "But your hair is much longer," I said.
"Don't worry, yours will soon grow," mum said. I didn't reply but followed Hannah up to her room. I went slowly trying to work out what was worrying me so much. I really like spending time with Hannah but I always had the feeling that I was about to be tricked into doing something else I didn't want to, not by Hannah, but by Alison or my mum. Leotard, tights, a girl's top, girls' underwear, a new hairstyle- the list was growing and I was growing more uneasy. At the same time I wanted to do things to impress Hannah and our original agreement to only do things boys and girls would both do seemed to have been forgotten. Most of the things we did together seemed to me to be more girl stuff than boys' stuff. At least no one at school could see me.
Hannah's room was completely different to mine. Her posters were of pop stars mostly but there was one of a star of the Moscow ballet. "He's gorgeous," Hannah told me. All the girls at my school have him on their bedroom walls." I tried to think of something to say that would be complimentary so I said, "He looks good in his tights and he looks so strong!" Hannah immediately said, "You can have this one. It'll be easy for me to get another," she said.
I didn't want to take it but I knew if I didn't somehow that would become an incident so I thanked her and rolled it up and put it near my bag.
The next change in my life was waiting at the end of the bed. There were two nightdresses and two pairs of slippers. They were identical. The slippers were soft white towelling with thin lines of blue sewn into them as if a skater had danced across the material. They were the type you slid your feet into. The nightdresses were pastel blue with 'Swan Lake' written across the chest and a picture of two dancers from the ballet. Not for boys!
"These are new," Hannah said. "Mummy wouldn't let me wear mine until you came and I can't wait," she said. "As soon as we have had a bath we can get changed." I was not impressed but knew that by the end of the evening I would be dressed in a nightdress and those slippers.
I suppose I should have just given up without a fight but my boy dignity wanted to protest, not to Hannah, who seemed to think I was the greatest friend in the world, but to my mum. I went downstairs and found her in the kitchen. I wanted to catch her on her own but Alison was there. I was breathing heavily and about to say exactly what was on my mind when, as luck would have it, Alison announced that it was bath time. Now I would get to talk to mum on her own. Except, Alison took me by the hand and led me from the room. Her grip was quite firm. I had no doubt that she meant business.
"Didn't you hear me, sweetie?" she asked. "I said, 'It is bath time."
"Not for me, surely," I protested and turned round for help from mum. She wasn't following. "For both of you, silly," Alison continued. "Hannah will have run a nice bath for both of you." I was horrified. Surely she wasn't expecting me to share a bath with a girl! Hannah was already in a bubble, scented bath when Alison practically dragged me into the room. She gave no sign that my resistance was giving her any problem and her grip didn't weaken. I called desperately for mum but there was no answer. Alison didn't weaken at all. She had my jumper and shirt off over my head in seconds and grabbed my hand again so quickly I didn't have time to escape. She stripped me of my trousers and underpants in one action and only then let go of my hand. By this stage I was so stunned that I didn't move.
"Take your socks off before you get in, " she said.
I was so humiliated I moved really slowly but took off my socks just as I had been told. I then got into the bath because it seemed best to hide my nakedness under the bubbles. Hannah smiled at me but I was so shocked I just burst into tears. How could she do that to me? And where was my mum?
Hannah tried to comfort me but I was so upset. I was being treated as if I was someone I wasn't and I seemed powerless to stop the changes. Hannah picked up some bubbles in her hand and blew them at me. I didn't react so she did it again. I smiled despite myself and after a couple more times I decided to do the same back. This turned into us splashing the water at each other, something my mum would never allow, and soon we were having a great time. We didn't even notice that mum and Alison were watching from behind the door. When we noticed, they laughed and came in each with a huge towel. We were lifted out of the bath and wrapped up. My mum hadn't done this for years. I always bathed myself. In a way it was quite nice. My mum obviously loved drying me all over. I hated being naked in front of Hannah. She didn't seem to mind at all. She wasn't at all shy about her own nakedness. I was too shy to look anywhere and I concentrated on trying to keep myself covered up. I couldn't, though, when Mum was lifting my arms and pulling me about to dry me. She finished by telling me to put my arms in the air and she dropped the nightdress over me- the very nightdress that I had gone downstairs to complain about. It reached my knees but was a perfect fit. Alison was very good at getting clothes that were just the right size. No way was I going to be able to use an excuse like 'It's too small." I wasn't sure what was worse, being naked in front of Hannah or wearing a girl's nightdress.
"Step forward," mum said and I stepped into the white towelling feminine slippers. "There, all done. Don't you look sweet?" I was dazed. When I looked down I realised I looked just like a little girl. There was nothing left of my 'boyness' for anyone to see. This seemed to be just what mum and Alison were hoping for.
That night I slept on the mattress put down for me next to Hannah's bed. I tried to think of a way of making my mum understand that I really didn't like all the girl things that were happening to me. It was so humiliating to share a bath with a girl, and at my age. Even though Hannah had made it fun I couldn't get rid of the feeling that mum and Alison had done it on purpose. This was my problem: I couldn't see a way of staying friendly with Hannah, something I really wanted to do, and at the same time avoid the girl things that were happening to me.
Every time I turned over the perfumed smell reminded me of the bath. Instead of looking forward to the next day, I dreaded it.
I woke up before anyone else and resolved to be forceful. I dressed quickly in my jeans and jumper and knew that I would probably have a fight on my hands. Instead, when I got downstairs the others were all at breakfast and they smiled at me when I entered. "This is a slippers house," Alison said but in such a reasonable way that I went upstairs again and put the white slippers back on. It didn't matter, I decided, as long as I could keep my jeans on. Nevertheless, wherever I went I could hear the slapping of the slippers, the same noise all the others were making. Nobody mentioned the jeans and I started to feel a little better, as if I had won a victory of sorts.
The plan for the day was to go shopping and then swim in the large swimming pool that Hannah and her mum had put up in the garden. Fantastic, if the weather stayed good. Shopping was good because we were allowed to go off on our own again and Hannah headed towards the accessory shop. We looked at the earrings again. Hannah was impatient to get her ears pierced. I was regretting my promise to join in. Then we bought necklaces to wear. Hannah sort of presumed that I wanted one too and when she asked the assistant to help I insisted on a thicker chain than Hannah. I was quite happy to wear it. After all, lots of men did. It bothered me a bit that there were no other boys in the shop but my necklace didn't look too girly.
Back home we both nagged our mums to hurry up with their food because we wanted to get swimming. Hannah went to get changed and then, and only then, did it occur to me that we hadn't brought my swimming trunks along. "Shall I wear a pair of pants?" I asked.
"Here we are dear," Alison said taking control. "This will fit. We bought your size." She handed me a new swimming costume that any girl would have loved. It was light blue with turquoise swirls across it. I stared at it and stared at my mum. There was no way I was going to get dragged into this.
"I don't want to wear it," I said. I knew my mum would tell me off for 'being ungrateful, but what sort of boy was supposed to be grateful for wearing girls' clothes? I waited for the response.
"That's alright, Ollie," Alison continued. "You can swim in the nude. We won't mind, will we Judy?"
"And Hannah has seen it all before," mum reminded me.
"I've changed my mind. I don't want to go swimming," I said.
"Hannah will be sad," Alison said but put the costume away. Another victory! They went outside and called to Hannah across the garden. She was having a great time.
"Where's Ollie?" she asked. I didn't hear the answer because I headed upstairs to the bedroom and looked out over the garden. Sounds of Hannah having fun drifted up to me and I could hear my mum and Alison laughing. I longed to be out there swimming too. There was no way I was going to go naked again in front of Hannah.
After a while I weakened. I really did want to swim. It was agonising realising that I would have to give in to Alison. However, after a few more squeals of delight from Hannah I decided that, just this once, I would wear a girls' swimming costume. I went down to ask for it. I asked my mum rather than Alison.
" If you ask again and say 'mummy' I might go and get it," she replied when I asked her.
"Please can I borrow the swimming costume, mummy?" I asked. I sounded like a girl whenever I said, mummy, I realised. Alison already had it with her and produced it from behind her back. There was a look of triumph on her face.
"Thank you," I trilled.
At least her back garden was private. Nobody could see over the hedge and if they heard us they would have thought it was two girls playing as we screamed and squealed a lot. It was fun. Playing with Hannah was one of the best things and since Josh hadn't spoken properly to me for weeks she had become my best friend. She always made our games fun and after a while I usually forgot what I was wearing because I was concentrating on the game we were playing. She never made me feel silly, either. In a moment of weakness lying out on the grass side by side in our identical swimming costumes I said, "Hannah, you are my best friend, you know."
"I think we're the terrible twins," she replied. "Sisters almost."
"I suppose we are," I said. At that moment, lying on the grass, it didn't matter that much to me that she had said, 'sisters'.
There have been changes to Ollie's life since his mum's new friend and her daughter arrived on the scene. Ollie spends more and more time playing with his new best friend, Hannah, and the changes mean he spends more and more time with the girls at school.
The posters of the boy band and the ballet dancer in my bedroom were joined by a poster of Aaron Carter, a boy singer with long blonde hair, which Hannah gave to me along with one of his CDs. I also acquired a few fluffy toys from shopping trips with Hannah. I had thrown out my old baby ones a few years ago but being with Hannah made me wish I hadn't. My new duvet cover had horses cantering along a beach on it. Mum bought curtains to match and my old 'Action Man' ones came down. My 'Star Wars' stuff had gone and I hadn't played with my Play Station for months. In some ways I preferred my new room and Hannah was very encouraging. My mum said, "It's because you are growing up."
When we stayed with Alison and Hannah I wore my nightdress and white slippers. At home I wore my pyjamas and boy slippers. That became 'normal' for me. I only wore tights when we were playing ballet dancers but we did this quite a lot because it was a favourite game. I enjoyed it so much I actually thought it would be good to go to ballet lessons. The only thing that stopped me asking was this feeling that it would be another move towards being a girl. So, I satisfied myself with the dancing Hannah and I did at home. My tights collection grew to six or seven pairs in a range of colours.
One time mum asked me to take the rubbish to the dustbin and because I had been dancing I decided to nip up the garden in my tights. I put my wellie boots on and took the rubbish off her. Mr Thomas was in the garden and, because I knew he wouldn't like the way I was dressed, I decided to ignore him. I walked up the path in my red wellies, navy blue tights and red sweatshirt. I felt Mr Thomas's eyes in my back the whole way up the garden and all the way back. 'I don't care,' I told myself. 'He doesn't understand.'
My hair grew longer. Each time we went to the hairdressers, Mel cut my fringe and tidied up the back and sides but it reached shoulder length. "Blonde hair should be long," Mel said. "Otherwise it's a waste." I even agreed to her colouring it on one visit so that it was lighter, 'like a Scandanavian', Mel said. It felt, as the months went on, that mum and Alison had backed off. They certainly didn't insist I wore anything in particular anymore and I began to relax a bit more. I would have liked to get my hair cut. I had longer hair than any of the other boys and even longer than some girls. Apart from that things weren't so bad.
The time when I noticed things change again was when I needed new school trousers and mum bought me some black ones. I knew straight away that they were not for boys. They were tight at the top, had no zip for flies, and had a definite flare at the bottom. In fact, they were the same as the ones several girls at school wore. Not that any one mentioned it. If the boys noticed they didn't make fun of me and the girls continued to treat me as one of them. I hated the fact that, with my long hair and school trousers with the sweatshirt there was nothing to mark me out as a boy. The worse thing was that I didn't have any pockets at all. Where did girls put things? I soon spotted that they all carried pencil cases so I got one too. It was very handy.
Mrs Vincent took me aside at school one day and said quietly, "If you need to go at any time you can use the staff 'facilities.'" This last word was said more quietly than the rest of the sentence. I didn't understand her at first. 'Go where?' I thought but then it dawned on me. She wanted me to use the staff toilet. "Why?" I asked, genuinely perplexed.
"It's better all round, dear," she said. "Then no one will be upset."
I was upset. I was being told I could no longer go to the boys' toilet!
Mrs Vincent hadn't finished, "And it might be best if you changed in there for PE as well." I stared at her. "We don't want to scare the boys, do we?"
I had to face it. People around me were treating me like a girl. In my school uniform I certainly looked more like a girl than a boy. This was made obvious to me when, one day after school, we went to the supermarket to buy a few things. I was wandering around hanging on the trolley while my mum was looking intently at the shelves. Someone banged into my leg with a trolley and I turned to see a small boy trying to control one. "Mind the little girl," his mum said. She then apologised to me. My mum smiled at the boy and his mum and said, "no harm done." They passed on and I stared at my mum. I waited until we were in the car before I asked her about it. I didn't want to do it in the supermarket where anyone could hear me.
"That woman called me a girl," I said.
"I know dear. Wasn't that sweet!"
"But you didn't tell her I was a boy," I continued.
"Neither did you," she told me. That was true.
"Everyone thinks I'm a girl," I continued. "I need a haircut."
"Excuse me, you do not," she said emphasising each word. I glared at her. She smiled back at me. "You look very sweet, and everyone thinks you are adorable."
"They think I'm a girl." I folded my arms and huffed back in my seat. A month ago I wouldn't have dared speak harshly to my mum but I felt I was losing a battle with her and I no longer cared as much about hurting her feelings.
"Why do you make me wear girls' clothes?" I asked.
"You wear the clothes that suit you. Isn't that what everyone does?" she said.
"I didn't used to wear girls clothes until Alison came along" I replied. "Now I've got girls' underwear, girls' socks, girls' trousers, long hair…"
"You were the one that started behaving like a girl," she told me. I was shocked to hear this. She was changing the truth to suit herself. I stared at her. It was a few moments before I could speak.
"I have never behaved like a girl," I shouted, my voice going quite high. Two passers by looked our way when they heard this. I sank even lower in my seat.
"The boys at school don't play with me. Josh doesn't play with me anymore", I continued.
"Well doesn't that just prove what I'm saying?" mum answered. "Boys like to play with other boys. If they don't play with you it is because they see you as a girl."
"They see me as a girl because I wear girls' clothes," I said trying and not succeeding to keep the tears from falling.
"Oh Olivia," mum said. "I know this is hard for you, but you know it is about more than clothes." She paused. “You act like a girl." She waited. I didn't say anything so she continued, not sure how far she should go. "Your dance moves are so elegant." She paused again. I looked at her. "And you always looked so awkward dressed as a boy. You look more natural as a girl. It just fits you better, love." I didn't say anything after that. I stared out the front of the car. I didn't even brush away the tears that were falling. Mum brushed the hair out of my eyes and smoothed some strands behind my ear. Then, she started the car and drove away.
As soon as we got home, I stormed upstairs and flopped on my bed. It was there that I remembered she had called me Olivia. I hadn't been Oliver for ages, always Ollie to everyone. But my mum had called me Olivia! There was no hiding from the fact that I was being turned into a girl whether I liked it or not.
I missed tea. I stayed spread out on my bed refusing to join mum downstairs. I didn't weaken all evening. Mum left me alone for ages. She must have realised how upset I was and it was quite late when she finally came in. "Time to get ready for bed, Ollie," she said gently. I didn't reply. I wanted her to suffer. I actually began to think that I had got through to her. She hadn't repeated the mistake of calling me Olivia. I got off the bed in my own good time and went to put on my pyjamas. But they weren't in my drawer. Instead the nightdress was where my pyjamas should be. I checked under the bed and the white slippers had appeared where my blue ones used to be. "Mum!" I yelled. Mum came in and sat on the bed.
"I think the time has come to stop pretending," she said. "Don't you, Olivia?"
I started to cry immediately. "I'm Oliver," I said.
"Come on, you're upset. Get into bed and we'll talk about it tomorrow."
I didn't want to wear the nightdress. "I want my pyjamas," I said.
"Who does this nightdress belong to?"
I didn't answer.
"Have you worn it before?"
I knew the answers would trap me.
"So, stop being a silly girl, and get ready for bed."
I cried even more loudly at this but the fight had gone out of me and I didn't resist when she undressed me, put the nightdress on, and then brushed my hair. By the time she had finished I was calm again. Mum moved me over to the mirror.
"What do you see?" she asked. I looked, and a ten- year old girl looked back.
Next day at school I went around in a daze. I noticed in a way I hadn’t before how the boys behaved. Was it true? Was I an awkward boy? It was true that they had nothing to do with me anymore but I was hurt by that. That must prove that I wanted to play with them rather than the girls. Yet, the girls were friendly and complimented me on the things I wore. Mrs Vincent noticed I was upset and asked if I was okay. I tried to convince her that I was. I didn't want another conversation where I ended up in tears. I would have managed it except that she finished our talk by saying, "You know the school rules say that long hair should be tied back, don't you? Ask mummy to buy you a scrunchy or something so that you can have a pony tail." I went to the corner of the playground and cried. Immediately several girls were around me wanting to know what was wrong and what they could do to help. I didn't want to tell them. How could I tell anyone that I was a boy being turned into a girl? Who would believe that it wasn't my own choice? Chloe put her arm around me. "When I'm upset I tell my daddy. He always makes things better." Of course!
At home that evening I told mum I wanted to talk to dad and I rang him. "I was expecting you to call Oliv… Ollie," he said. "I'm coming to collect you next weekend." Why was he expecting my call?
"What has mum said to you?" I asked.
"Just that we need to talk. It's true. We haven't had a good talk in ages."
"I need help," I whispered. Dad was going to be my lifeline.
"That's what I'm here for, Oliv…Ollie." Twice he nearly called me Oliver and then didn't. The phone call rescue I had imagined wasn't turning out quite as I had planned it. Mum was relaxed when I came off the phone. "Did you two have a nice chat?" she asked. "You need to spend some time together."
"He's coming this weekend," I said, but she already knew that.
It was a surprise, then, that Hannah and Alison were waiting at home one day when I got home from school. They never came over during the week. Hannah was so excited she was nearly bursting.
"Guess what!" she said.
"What?"
"Its my birthday next week," she trilled. "And mummy said I can have my ears pierced! Isn't that great?"
I had completely forgotten about the promise I made to her. My birthday had come and gone and it hadn't been mentioned, probably because Hannah, as she now reminded me, was desperate that we had our ears pierced together. She jumped around in that infectious way she has when she is really excited and I laughed because she was so funny, even though I was starting to feel uneasy about what might happen next. Hannah jumped around and around.
"Oh Ollie, I just love coming around here, and I just love playing with you, and I just love your pony tail." I fingered my hair which had been tied back ever since Mrs Vincent mentioned it. Another change that everyone, except me, accepted as normal.
"Come along girls," Alison said as she picked up her bag. "We don't want to miss the appointment at the salon, do we?" I looked across at my mum to see if there was any chance of rescue. Not likely, and Alison had obviously decided it was okay to call me a girl, now, as well.
"I'm seeing my dad this weekend," I said as an announcement; one that was supposed to threaten Alison, although I wasn't sure why she was supposed to be scared.
Hannah raced for her mum's car and yelled for me to hurry up. I muttered, "I'm not getting it done," but only to myself and I really didn't believe it. Mel greeted us at the salon as her two favourite customers and asked who was going first.
"Hannah," I said too quickly. They looked at me. "It is her birthday," I continued.
"That's true," Hannah said and jumped into the chair. A minute later she was the owner of two pierced ears with studs in them. "You next," she said.
"I'm not having it done," I said. They looked at me. "I don't want a pierced ear."
"Okay," said Alison and Mel put the piercing gun away. I breathed a sigh of relief. That hadn't been so hard. Then Hannah started crying. I hadn't expected that.
"You promised," she said. I was shocked to see her cry. I had never seen Hannah cry before. "We were going to have it done on the same day." I waited for Alison to tell me off but she didn't.
"Ollie doesn't want it done, sweetie," was all she said. This surprised me. I expected her to pull me into the chair. Hannah cried some more, then announced that she wanted her brand new earrings out. Mel didn't think this was a good idea and Alison tried to comfort Hannah and I started to feel bad.
"Alright," I said. "I've changed my mind." I got in the chair as quickly as possible to try to repair the damage I had done. Immediately, Hannah calmed. Mel got out the gun and fired a stud into my right ear. She, too, didn't want more of a fuss. I looked in the mirror trying to work out whether that was the ear boys wore earrings in when she held my head, told me to keep still and shot a stud into the left ear as well. I stared at my reflection which looked more feminine than ever. Shoulder length hair and a stud in each ear. "What will my dad say?" I said to myself.
The next few days passed slowly as I waited for my dad to come and rescue me. At school I braced myself for the name calling that was sure to follow my ear piercing. It didn't happen. Chloe and a couple of other girls mentioned them but only to tell me I looked really good. The boys took no notice. Don't get me wrong, I didn't want anybody to make fun of me but the fact that no boy even mentioned my earrings made me wonder why not. I would have done if, say, Josh had got his ears pierced.
The number of times I was called a girl increased. In shops, when out, people might say 'mind the little girl' or 'and what would you like, young lady?'- things like that. I never once told them I was a boy. I could see a problem. If I started declaring that I was not a girl everyone would want to know why I was dressed as I was. Each time I was called a girl, I clenched my fists but said nothing.
At home things were different. I didn't want to be a girl. Let me make that clear but there were times when I enjoyed being treated differently by my mum. One of the things I loved was when my mum brushed my hair. It was quite long now and having it brushed was fantastic. There was a rule, though. I had to be ready for bed before she would do it. One evening I put on my nightdress and sat in front of the television while my mum slowly brushed through my hair. There was a knock at the door and mum went to answer it. I didn't move because I didn't think it would be anybody coming in so was surprised when Mr Thomas entered the room. He was chatting to my mum as they came in.
"Have a cup of tea," mum said, "and stay for a chat."
Mr Thomas looked me up and down in his disapproving way. I hoped he wouldn't stay because things were so awkward between us. However, he decided he would and sat himself down while mum went to the kitchen.
"You look pretty," he said. I wasn't sure whether this was sarcastic or not. I looked down, red in the face. "Your hair has got very long," he continued.
"I want it cut," I replied and gathered it up at the back and lifted it. I was conscious of just how long it had become.
"Sweet earrings," Mr Thomas said. I let my hair drop. I had forgotten about my ears.
It is decision time for Ollie. Will his dad rescue him? Does he want to be rescued? Can he bear to turn his back on the new things in his life? Maybe, being a girl is what he wants after all.
Dad didn’t once tell me to hurry up. His smile said he was having a great time. Then he announced, "I want to buy a beautiful necklace for my beautiful princess!" I went red and didn’t know where to look. There was something special in the way he called me a princess but also something quite humiliating. I loved the fact that it made me feel so special but being treated like a girl by my dad was so strange.
"Thank you, dad," I said. He gave me a questioning look so I said, "Thank you, daddy." He smiled.
Everything was going so well. Then we met Josh. I was admiring myself in the window of a shoe shop while daddy got more money from the cash point and I was aware that a boy was leaning back, bored. I looked his way and recognised Josh. Immediately, I coloured and hoped he hadn’t seen me. It was amazing how quickly the spell was broken. I had spent the day as a girl and loved it, even without Hannah around, but as soon as the cold draught of reality caught me it felt wrong, as if I was doing something I shouldn’t. I turned my back to edge away when dad crossed the street. Of course he saw Josh and called to him.
"Long time, no see Josh," he said. "My, you’ve grown since I last saw you."
"I eat a lot… or so my mum says," Josh answered. You could tell he was scanning around to see where I was. I didn’t know whether or not to say something then I realised he didn’t recognise me in my new gear. I started to think I could get away without being discovered but dad looked in my direction and Josh, following his eye-line, spotted me. His eyes took in the sight of me in a short skirt and his face registered surprise but he didn’t say anything.
"You and Josh don’t hang around much anymore, I hear," dad said.
"No, we are into different things," I said. Josh couldn’t tell whether he was the subject of disapproval or not.
"That’s right," Josh said. He didn’t know what to say next. It was very awkward for both of us.
"We’re going for lunch," dad announced. "Why not come with us?" Josh was searching for a reason.
"I don’t know," he hesitated. "I’m waiting for my mum and dad," he continued, "and they are taking ages."
"All the more reason to come with us," dad said. "I’ll sort it out with your parents."
He went into the shoe shop to find them, leaving Josh and me standing outside not sure what to say to each other. Josh kicked the ground in his trainers. I didn’t want to do that to my new boots.
"Are they new clothes?" he asked me at last.
"Yes," I replied, and then because I didn’t now what else to say and because I had heard my mum say this sort of thing I said, "Do you like them?" Immediately I felt stupid. I really was turning into a girl.
"Yes. They look very nice."
"Nice," I said mimicking Mrs Vincent. "Nice!" She hated that word. If we used it she would demand that we replaced it with a better, more specific word.
"Alright, very pretty," Josh said and then he went a bit red and I did too. Him because he had said it to me who used to be his best friend and me because I was really pleased he had said it.
"Do you really think so?" I replied. I was becoming a girl!
"Don’t you feel a bit, well, odd wearing them, though?" Josh asked.
I wasn’t sure what to say. I was confused. I hadn’t wanted him to see me like this, but now that he had I didn’t mind. The worst bit was over. What was more strange was that when I looked at what Josh was wearing, his combat trousers and scruffy sweatshirt with trainers, I really didn’t want to have to wear that sort of thing again. Yet, I used to… when I was a boy. And there it was again. I kept finding myself saying things to myself that showed that I was becoming more of a girl than a boy.
Dad returned before I had given Josh a proper answer and swept us off to lunch. We had a great time. It was a bit like when we were best friends and I wasn’t sure why we weren’t anymore except when Josh was talking he kept telling us things he had done, at school and at home, and I wasn’t all that interested. Although I still liked him I could see I wouldn’t want to spend much time with him anymore. The things Hannah and I did were much better.
Dad was really good to Josh. He joked with him and they talked about football for a bit. Then things got more serious when he said, "Is everything all right at school, Josh? I mean for Olivia." It was shocking to hear my dad call me by a girl’s name. I know the way I was dressed meant I couldn’t really complain but it was still odd to hear it. I didn’t say anything. Josh didn’t seem to think it was weird. His expression never changed. Dad continued, "It would be horrible if anyone had bullied her."
"Nobody has," Josh said. "Honestly." I think he was worried that my dad was accusing him.
"Told you," I said. Josh looked at me, relieved.
"Thanks Josh for being understanding. It hasn’t been easy for her, you know," dad continued.
"Dad," I said. I wanted him to stop and I wasn’t about to call him ‘daddy’ in front of Josh. There were some things I wasn’t ready for.
"Alright, I know when I’m being told off," he laughed and he leaned over and gently patted my face.
That afternoon dad bought me a necklace with a heart shaped pendant. It was the best present he ever bought me. In fact, it was the best weekend I had ever spent with him. When he delivered me back home I didn’t want to leave him but I was also excited at the thought of showing mummy all the new things we had bought. Mum stared at dad in admiration when I walked through the door wearing my skirt, tights and boots. She could hardly believe it. Her face was full of admiration at what dad had achieved.
When it was time to say goodbye to dad, she touched him, gently, on the arm in a way I hadn’t seen her do for a long time.
"Thanks," she said and her voice was warm. Dad smiled, kissed me on the cheek, then lifted me up and swung me around. I screamed when he pretended he was going to drop me.
"Are you going to be a good girl until I come again?" he asked.
"Yes I am," I replied.
"Say it then," he said holding my face between his hands.
"I am going to be good until next time," I replied.
"I am going to be a good girl," he said emphasising the words he wanted to hear.
"I am going to be a good girl," I said. Later, I realised that that was the first time I had called myself a girl out loud.
At school on Monday I wore a skirt for the first time. Mummy told me there would have to be a first time so I might as well get it over with. After the weekend it would have been odd to try to object.
I wasn’t thrilled at the idea but inside I recognised I was further away from boyhood than ever. I wore bottle green tights as well. I wanted to wear thinner tights. I knew Chloe would approve but mummy said I had to wait until I was older. The ones I wore were thicker winter tights. The skirt was a boring grey school skirt, like the other girls wore, nothing to get excited about.
I had new school shoes, black mary janes, so I looked just like all the other girls. I wore a cardigan for the first time as well. Some girls wore school cardigans but no boys did. I suppose mummy bought if from the school office since that is where the uniform came from. Nobody mentioned the fact I was wearing a skirt for the first time. I don’t think they noticed, particularly.
I had given up trying to hang on to the thought that I was a boy dressed up against his will. I thought of myself more and more as a girl. When Mrs Vincent let the boys go out to play first I just sat until she said the girls could go. I worked and played with girls. Bit by bit the world the boys inhabited seemed alien to me. I didn’t like the rough way they played near us sometimes and I would have hated to wear some of the clothes they had to wear.
One day in a PE lesson Mrs Vincent said we had to work in partners but that a boy had to work with a girl. Several boys argued over who would work with me and I felt really good. Mrs Vincent solved the problem by saying I could choose and I chose Josh. We had to make up a dance together to some music and Josh had the brilliant idea of me leaning back, like in a faint, and him holding me to stop me from falling. It looked brilliant everyone said afterwards. Josh was really pleased that we had been so successful and I had loved the way Josh had been able to hold me. He was really strong. I hadn’t really noticed before.
When we were lining up for dinner I found myself lining up next to Josh. We got talking. Then Jordan arrived and Josh turned to talk to him instead. They had become great friends since… well, since I started turning into a girl. I sighed and turned my back on the boys.
When Chloe came along I let her join me in the line, Jordan immediately objected. "That’s not fair," he said.
"She pushed in." He looked around for support but Josh didn’t seem to mind much.
"Typical girls," Jordan said, disgustedly. "Always sticking up for each other." Chloe and I smiled at each other.
"Better than being a smelly boy," I said. We laughed.
Hannah approved of my new clothes. It felt like it had been ages since we had seen each other but we had only missed a weekend. I showed her all my new stuff and told her about the weekend and about daddy calling me his little princess and everything. She listened to everything and told me she was glad things had been so good with my dad.
"When mummy first told me about you, I didn’t believe her," she said.
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Well, she told me that, although you looked like a boy, you were really a girl inside. I felt sorry for you."
I looked at her. She was so sweet and obviously wanted to help but I couldn’t believe what she was telling me.
"Mummy explained about girls being trapped inside boys’ bodies," she continued. "It must have been really hard for you. I wanted to talk to you about it but mummy said I mustn’t. You would get upset."
I suppose this wasn’t so surprising. After all, I knew what my mum was up to but it still seemed so shocking to hear Hannah spell it out.
"Do you wish I had talked to you about it?" she asked.
"Not really. Anyway, it doesn’t matter now does it?" I replied.
"But you are happy now aren’t you? Now that everything is okay?"
"Yes. I suppose I am."
"The worst time was when we shared the bath. When you cried I was so upset for you but mummy explained that you didn’t like being naked," she went on.
"Well, it was embarrassing," I replied.
"I know. Mummy explained that you didn’t like any reminders that you were trapped as a boy. When you were with me you could pretend to be a girl, or so my mum said, but being naked in front of me… well there was no way you could keep up the pretence."
I stared at her. They had been so clever, Mum and Alison. They had thought of everything. I was getting worked up about it and felt like confronting them but then Hannah reminded me we were going shopping later.
"I’d like new jeans," she said. She was always wearing jeans. I don’t know why because she had great legs. I liked to show mine off and they weren’t anywhere near as good as hers.
"I’m getting some new tights," I told her. "Stripy ones would look great I think, don’t you?"
"They’d go great with that skirt and those boots," she said. I agreed. They would. I forgot about Mum and Alison and we linked arms as we headed back to the house.
I told you at the start of this story that I had three facts and one opinion about what happened to me. I’ve told you the facts.
The opinion?
It was the best thing that happened to me.
Lucien struggles to fit in with the other boys and his father knows it. A business trip provides the father with the opportunity to leave his son in the care of a family friend who promises to 'sort out' the young boy.
George Bushell loved his younger son but he did not understand him. He was so different from his older brother, that was for sure. Whereas Rene was a macho sort of a boy and, it has to be said, quite a selfish one, Lucien was sweet and kind. Where Rene had a head of hair shaved fashionably short on the sides, Lucien had hair that nearly reached his shoulders. Both boys missed their mother as did George. She had fled back to France to start a new life and they hadn’t heard from her in over two years. They had recovered, the three of them, and were now a tight unit again but the experience had left Rene as a much harder individual and Lucien… well, he was just a continuing worry; he was not like Rene, he was not like George- not like any other boy in fact. He seemed to spend all his time with girls and had far too much interest in all the things they talked about. He needed help, he knew that and his friend Sally was just the person who could help him.
“I don’t really understand Lucien,” he told her over coffee in the small café where he and Sally met every Saturday morning. This had been the routine ever since he emerged from the deep gloom that had settled over him after the sudden departure of his French wife. It was Sally who coaxed him out into mixed company again. Obviously, there was talk in their small town about the two of them and, more specifically, about the intentions of a widow with a son and daughter of her own. Many people felt sorry for George. They could see how his wife’s desertion had floored him. Yet, only Sally approached. It was she who suggested coffee in town, ‘where everyone can see us both!’
“And tongues can wag,” George replied when he agreed that the time had come to pick himself up after too long in despair. So, each Saturday, they met. Sally’s daughter Frankie had dance class and the coffee and chat with George was far preferable to the rushing around the supermarket she used to do.
“Lucien is great, I don’t know why you worry,” she said. “He’s a very sweet boy, Frankie adores him.” That was true. They spent a lot of time together.
“I think I need to admit defeat, though,” George said. “I knew what to do with Rene but Lucien is a mystery to me.”
Sally smiled. She knew that Lucien sometimes had a hard time at school. Frankie told her and she knew even though she didn’t go to the same school. Other children called him names. But she also knew that the young boy refused to react. Frankie told her that, too. She knew that Lucien had a strong centre.
“Why not let me help?” Sally asked. She smiled and George floated an idea that grew into a plan.
Business took George away more than he liked. Looking back he could see how it had contributed to the breakdown of his marriage. It was something he only addressed when it was too late. His business trips had by necessity reduced in number and duration since he became a single parent but they did not disappear altogether. A combination of help from his own parents and friends had helped him manage. Now he was under pressure from his boss. The latest engineering project in the Middle East was not going well and he was required to more closely supervise things; a trip that could keep him away for months. Saying no was not an option and his attention went instead to how he would fulfil his responsibilities and look after his children.
It was agreed. Lucien would stay with Sally and her children while George was away. Rene was happy to stay with his friends. The relief he felt flooded through him, not just were his child care concerns sorted but Sally had agreed to help sort out Lucien. Everything seemed to be falling into place.
“Leave him with me, George. I’ll see what I can do,” she said, leaving him pleased that at last somebody would take his younger son in hand.
“I would be so grateful,” he replied. “I think maybe a woman’s touch is what is needed here.”
“When you return from abroad, you won’t recognise him.”
And so it was that three weeks’ later, as planned, Lucien was collected from school by Sally. The farewell that morning had been hard for both father and son and everyone thought it best that George take him to school as normal and then leave for the airport later. Driving home, Sally could sense some awkwardness but the atmosphere lightened as soon as Frankie joined them. To her relief, both children started chattering away and comparing notes over plans for the evening.
“I hope homework features somewhere in these plans,” Sally said to their reflection in the car’s mirror. They giggled back and she could see why George worried about his younger son. His hair frequently fell across his face causing him to brush it away with a gentle sweep of his hand. The gesture was similar to Frankie’s and she noticed how alike they were. Their mannerisms mirrored each other even though Lucien’s hair was longer. It could do with tidying up, though.
“If you could do something with his hair, I would be pleased” George’s voice echoed in her head. She made a mental note to arrange an appointment for the weekend.
At home, the children raced up to Frankie’s room where an extra bed had been placed at George’s expense. This thrilled them both beyond measure and they spent quite a lot of time jumping up and down and giggling over the thought of sharing a room.
“Do you want to put up some of your own posters?” Frankie asked.
Lucien shook his head, “These are great,” he said taking in the posters of ballet dancers and celebrities. “I can stare at this one from my bed,” he continued looking up at a poster of a ballet boy in black tights and a leotard.
“Might give you sweet dreams,” Frankie suggested before dissolving into loud laughter that quickly infected Lucien.
Sally heard the children from Peter’s room where she had placed herself to listen in. She understood why George was concerned.
“It is a little like he doesn’t know what is expected of a boy,” he had told her. “Boys look at him and wonder what he is. The girls meanwhile are amused by him. He doesn’t really fit in, anywhere.”
“He just needs to be himself,” Sally had reassured him.
“He needs sorting out,” George had replied and then told her he was confident she was the person to do it.
His mannerisms may have been more girl than boy but his clothes were completely male. When he changed out of his school uniform he put on jeans and a rugby shirt. It didn’t quite work and Sally could detect the work of a father who hoped his son would live up to a specific image of manhood.
“Might as well get started,” she thought to herself. This was a project after all. “I’ll take it slowly and change one thing at a time,” she had told George. This suited him. He understood that it would take a bit of work to get where Lucien needed to be.
“Lucien, let me tidy up your hair,” she said as she interrupted the children playing in the bedroom. It didn’t escape her attention that they were both playing with Frankie’s doll collection. She had too many, Sally thought, but Lucien was always drawn to one in particular, a doll he called Maddie.
“I don’t want my hair cut,” he replied almost alarmed.
“I said ‘tidy it’ not ‘cut it’, don’t get all agitated!”
He subsided somewhat and wondered if he had been rude. His father was always trying to coax him into a haircut. Rene sorted himself out which is why he had such weird hairstyles but Lucien had grown his hair longer ever since his mother left home. At first, it was another of the jobs his mother did which George didn’t realise needed sorting out and when he noticed just how long Lucien’s hair was he found his younger son had grown attached to the style and got upset whenever cutting it was mentioned. His infrequent trips to the hair dresser had only resulted in ‘tidying it up’. This was not enough as far as George was concerned.
“It is quite long,” Sally remarked as she brushed it through. “Longer than Frankie’s I think.” The boy looked at himself in the mirror as he sat at Frankie’s dressing table and enjoyed the sensation of having his hair brushed. It was true that his hair fell into his face now and it could be quite annoying but he was determined not to have it all cut away.
“I’m jealous,” Frankie declared from over on her bed. “He has blonde hair and mine is black!”
“Not black, but beautifully dark,” Sally replied thinking all the while that it would be nice if her daughter grew her hair slightly longer and let her brush her hair just like this.
Sally picked up a hair band from the dressing table and pulled his hair into a pony tail. She positioned it quite high on his head, no mistaking her intention. He didn’t complain or question it and just returned her smile in the mirror; in fact, he beamed and bounced back to his doll on the bed, his pony tail swinging behind him. As she left the room he was brushing his doll’s hair into her own pony tail.
“We’ve started, George,” she said under her breath as she went downstairs.
Thousands of miles away, George sat in a hotel bar after a long day travelling. For the first time in ages he had been able to concentrate, really concentrate, on his work. Not that he hadn’t thought about his boys many times throughout the day, but the worry was reduced. Also, he knew that in Sally’s hands things might change for Lucien. He might even have short hair again when he returned home; that would be something to look forward to. He smiled as he lifted his drink. “Everything will be alright,” he said out loud.
At dinner, Sally kept an eye on her guest. He was more animated than she had seen him for a while, maybe it was her daughter’s influence or maybe it was the swish of a pony tail every time he moved his head. Whatever it was there was no sign of home sickness and her son Peter, home from school much later than the other two, helped keep things jolly as they sat around the table. Her son was growing up fast, he was as tall as his late father had been and had the same good looks, or so Sally thought. His sharp hair cut accentuated his fine features and at fifteen he was more man than boy. Sitting between Frankie and Lucien the contrast was stark. Lucien adored him, though, and she was so pleased that her son always made the younger boy feel better about himself, even if his habit of shortening everyone’s name meant that Lucien was always Luci to Peter.
“Why do you call me that?” Lucien had asked when they first met.
“Well Francesca here tells me your name is Lucien. What else should I shorten it to?” he had replied.
Lucien was more interested in Frankie’s real name to pursue it further so Luci had stuck whenever Peter was around.
At bedtime, the children went off to bed without fuss. Frankie, who would normally have made a fuss and dragged her feet at the injustice of going to bed before everyone else, was first up the stairs. Sally looked in on them when they were fast asleep, Lucien in the pyjamas she noticed had footballs all over them. “Nice try, George!” she thought. Now, in bed, with his long hair falling over the pillow and his doll Maddie clutched in his arms, she could see why he struggled at school, with friendships and with life in general. She was so pleased George had trusted her with this project.
Lucien fell into their routine so quickly it felt as if he had always been around. The fact that he went to a different school from Frankie meant an earlier start for them all but, this aside, everything worked well. Sally noticed that his hair went into a ponytail as soon as he came home. Frankie, quite skilled at getting it looking good for him at just the right height, was regretting having her hair cut shorter. But Sally knew that, by the time of the salon appointment, she could get the next stage underway.
And so it was that, the following Monday morning, Lucien walked into school with his hair tied back, his first outing with a ponytail. Frankie had tried to tie it low on his head to reduce the name calling she was sure he would endure but he had insisted she tied it up properly. He had loved the salon experience but was taken aback slightly when Sally had made it clear he would either have his hair cut or wear it tied up ‘in line with the school rules’.
“I’ve read the rules, Lucien, and it clearly states that long hair must be neatly tied back. It is the same at Frankie’s school, so she chose shorter hair.”
There was no way Lucien wanted his hair cut. It had been a battle of wills to get it this far; his parents had always kept his hair short and it was only after his mother left that he realised he could get away with more things. He loved his hair and wanted it longer.
He didn’t approach the salon with any enthusiasm. Three times he checked with Sally that he wasn’t having it cut but only ‘tidied’. He wasn’t reassured when the hairdresser, Ruth, picked up scissors.
“I’m not having it cut,” he said, somewhat sharply.
Ruth smiled. Sally had already briefed her on what to expect. She patiently explained to the young boy that, to get a good longer style, he needed to have it trimmed ‘just a little’ so that it could be trained into shape. She used the word ‘sculpted’ a lot.
So Lucien relaxed and she went about her work chatting the whole time about how lucky he was to have such fine hair and such a beautiful colour. With the gown on, and with Ruth lifting his hair up and out, it actually made it look longer and for a moment he pretended to himself that he was a girl.
He went red as he thought about this, as if Ruth could read his thoughts. She smiled back and the moment passed.
Back home he kept his hair down rather than tying it up. Now it was off his shoulders, he could feel the ends rub his chin when he moved his head. Sally knew it was a much more feminine style and she wondered why he didn’t object or look shocked when the work was finished. When she picked him up, he had bounced over to her, holding Ruth by the hand, so that she could admire the finished effect.
George was right, he did need her help. Lucien was a different child with this new look and he didn’t complain when Ruth handed him a hair clip with a butterfly on it. “A little present, to make you come back to me,” she had said. He didn’t wear it when they left the salon, he wasn’t ready for that yet, she noticed, but he held it in his hand the whole way home and looked at it continually.
It was Peter who said his hair was pretty when they got home. Sally and Frankie exchanged glances expecting Lucien to react but he smiled and twisted a bang around his finger. It was also Peter who, seeing what he had in his hand, took the hair clip and slid it on the young boy’s head.
“There!” he announced. “That finishes it off nicely!”
Lucien fingered the hair clip in his pocket that Monday morning. He didn’t need it, now that his hair was in a ponytail. He tried to slip onto the playground without being noticed. Seeing as how very few boys liked him, it always confused him that they spent so much time talking to and about him. He hoped that the fact that there was one other boy with hair tied back would mean he was not that unusual. He was wrong! The sniggers started first, girls as well as boys looked his way and then giggled inside their huddles, and then came the comments… or taunts.
It didn’t take long for a group of boys from his class to gather around him. To any observer, you would think he was quite popular with all the people he had attracted, forming a circle from which he couldn’t escape, even if he tried, which he wasn’t going to as he knew his limitations!
“I love what you’ve done with your hair,” said Steven Gates, a particularly nasty specimen as far as Lucien was concerned. Steven flicked his ponytail several times and then seemed pleased with himself as Lucien ducked his head away only to cause the ponytail to bounce around more.
“I think we need a little adjustment, though,” he continued as he called over to one of the girls at the edge of the group. “Lend us your flower, Jayde” he said and he took a hair band with a giant pink flower and slammed it on Lucien’s head. “There, that’s better!” he announced.
The group dispersed amidst laughter and Lucien pulled the hair band off his head. It was cheap and nasty, he thought. He would buy a much more elegant one, himself. He reached to the back of his head and knew that the ponytail Frankie had taken ages over that morning had been dislodged. He intended to go to the toilets to put it right but the whistle went for the start of the day and they all had to stand still. He was aware of Jayde just to his side. When they were released she moved towards him but a teacher appeared at his side.
“You there, tie your hair back. You know the school rules.” Lucien hesitated as did Jayde. “Come along, put your hair band on,” the teacher continued.
“It’s…” he began.
“It’s mine,” Jayde stepped in.
“I wish you girls would stop swapping hair bands. It is unhygienic you know.” He marched off leaving Jayde looking apologetic. “Sorry,” she said. Lucien handed her back her hair band but didn’t say anything.
“Shall I help tie up your hair?” Jayde asked. He nodded. He needed it doing or he would have a day of being stopped by teachers, some who obviously didn’t know him, telling him to abide by school rules.
Jayde did a fairly good job, not as good as Frankie but good enough. It was still quite high on his head, as he liked it.
“We meet over there at playtime,” she said. “Join us if you like. It’s just a few girls who like to stay away from the flying footballs.” She left, leaving Lucien to hurry to class. He was going to be late and that meant entering a room full of people staring at him. So much for being invisible!
He joined the girls, sort of, at playtime. He edged closer to them because he had nothing better to do and nowhere else to hide. The laughter from people in his class had hurt but it didn’t last. There was only so much fun to get out of the fact that he now had a ponytail. By playtime, the whispers and sniggers had pretty much died away. Playtime, though, was different. There was another group of people to notice and laugh at him. The girls in the corner seemed to be the best option. Jayde noticed him but didn’t do anything at first. Eventually she came over to speak to him.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” I should have known that Steven would be awful. I should never have given him my hair band.”
Lucien shrugged. He wasn’t quite sure what to say.
“I don’t even like this hair band. It’s a bit cheap and nasty if you ask me.”
“It’s alright,” Lucien answered. She smiled.
“My younger sister gave it to me. She’s over there.” She pointed. “She would be offended if I didn’t wear it at least once.”
Lucien smiled at this and taking this as a sign of friendship she pulled him into the group.
Later, when Peter asked him about his day, he told him about Steven and Jayde.
“Steven Gates is a squirt,” he replied. Lucien laughed. He would love to have Peter at school as his protector. But he was older and went to a secondary school. He would like to go to school with Frankie but she went to the best school in town and they had no spaces.
“Why get upset when he makes fun of you?” Peter asked.
“He called me a girl this morning,” Lucien replied. He didn’t tell him that a teacher had mistaken him for a girl, he still felt too odd about that. Steven Gates could make fun of him and call him names but an adult had really thought he was a girl. That was different.
“Nothing wrong with being a girl,” Peter said.
Later, Lucien stretched out on the carpet playing dolls with Frankie reflected on Peter’s comment. There was nothing wrong with being a girl. He still felt odd that a teacher had mistaken him for one. He was clearly a boy as far as he could see when he went off to school each day. Here, though, with Sally, Frankie and Peter he felt more relaxed and he knew he behaved differently in this safe space. He had his butterfly clip in his hair and nobody made fun of him. At school he would have been eaten alive! Here, he played with his doll, something he would never admit to at school. His clothes had changed slightly, too. He was wearing black skinny jeans, just like Frankie’s. He had long admired her very tight jeans, especially when she wore them with her red converse. Now he had a pair of his own, shame about the black converse, and a top just like Frankie’s. It was more of a vest than a shirt but it was light grey, quite long and they looked good together when they wore the same things. Shame about the black converse!
He was keen to thank his papa when he phoned him that evening.
“The new jeans are fantastic, Papa,” he said. “I love them!”
George could hear the delight in his son’s voice. Once again he was reassured that Sally was sorting things out for him. Leaving her money to buy new clothes was a big help and a weight off his mind; he never knew what clothes to buy his sons. He pictured him with his new haircut and jeans, maybe looking more like his older brother.
At the other end of the phone Lucien twisted a strand of hair around his finger and did little air dances with his hands. Sally, listening in, could hear that he was building up to something.
“Can I have some new Converse, please Papa?” he asked. From his face, she could tell George had said yes. She knew what colour he would go for!
Lucien didn’t mention his day at school. He had never told his father about the horrible names he was called or the things they did to him. He thought it would be a burden and his Papa had enough to worry about since his Mama left. His brother had told him many times to ‘man up’ but he wasn’t sure what that meant.
Back in his room he thought about the advice from Rene and the advice from Peter. His brother thought the answer to everything was to be tough. Fat lot of good that did when you weren’t! Peter, on the other hand said there was nothing wrong with being a girl. He thought some more about it. He knew he was a boy, he knew he didn’t fit in, and was certainly nothing like the other boys, but that didn’t make him a girl. But that teacher thought he was a girl. It made him feel funny thinking about it. ‘There was nothing wrong with being a girl!’ He agreed with Peter. ‘Nothing wrong with a boy having a ponytail… and playing with dolls, either!’ But, where did that leave him?
At bedtime, Sally told him his pyjamas were in the wash so he would have to wear something of Frankie’s. It didn’t bother him at all even though he thought his dad had packed several pairs for him. He didn’t make a fuss as Sally handed him what looked like a long T shirt but was actually one of Frankie’s nighties. It was pastel blue and had a kitten on the front. Frankie wore one exactly the same. “I didn’t know I had two…” Frankie began.
“You don’t do the laundry,” Sally shot back with a face that suggested no more talk was needed.
They were allowed some extra time downstairs before bedtime. Peter read them a story and they snuggled up, close to him, one on each side. Sally loved the way her son was so caring and sweet. He had certainly made Lucien feel at home and to see both children, heads resting on his shoulders looking at the pictures in the book, was a lovely scene. Her late husband would have been so proud of him. Her attention turned to Lucien who was so comfortable in the nook of Peter’s arm, his legs curled up under him, playing with his hair. Together with Frankie they looked like a pair of girls transfixed by their big brother.
It was this thought that led to her error, something for which she could have kicked herself. “Five more minutes, then it is time for bed girls,” she said. As soon as the words left her mouth she realised she had said the wrong thing. “I don’t want you up late on a school night,” she continued hastily, trying to cover up her mistake. She knew she was red in the face so busied herself tidying around the room. When she did look up, Peter had closed the book and was kissing them both on the cheek.
“Sleep tight,” he said. The children moved away and hugged Sally before going up to bed. No fuss, no arguments, no mention of her mistake!
Sally was relieved but looked across at Peter. If George found out she had wrecked his plans at this stage he would be entitled to be very cross with her. “I need to be more careful!”
“What do you mean?” her son asked.
“I called Lucien a girl, by mistake!”
“Mistake? There’s nothing wrong with being a girl, mum!”
“And nothing wrong with being a boy either,” she said taking her son into a hug.
“We just need to be ourselves!” he replied.
In bed Lucien and Frankie chatted as normal. This was the best time of day as far as he was concerned. He didn’t have anyone to confide in at home but here every day had a built in therapy session when he went back over the things that happened, good and bad and Frankie usually made them alright.
“Thanks for lending me your nightshirt,” he said. “Do you have two of everything?”
“No!” she replied. “That must be a new one.”
They didn’t think much more of it but Lucien liked it, preferred it to his pyjamas and was glad that he had a reason to wear it. Best of all, no one at school needed to find out about it.
Lucien's father is away on business so he is staying with at his friend Frankie's house. Frankie's mother, Sally, has agreed to look after the young boy and help him find his true self!
Lucien ignored the taunts and jokes and carried on wearing his hair in a ponytail every day at school. After a while there was nothing new to say! He was actually quite pleased with himself. He loved his ponytail and didn’t want to change it. Now, with the novelty worn off for everyone else, things were a bit quieter. That and the fact that he spent his playtimes with Jayde and the girls meant he had people to be with. For the first time he had some friends. They talked about things he wanted to talk about. They asked his opinion on things. He found the confidence to ask them about which colour Converse he should get and whether hi or low tops were better.
So, when he went shopping with Sally and Frankie on Saturday he didn’t buy the red hi tops he had thought he would get but chose pink low ones instead. He was confident in his decision despite being asked several times by both Sally and Frankie if he was sure. Back home Peter confirmed for him that he had made the right choice.
“Great choice, Luci!” he declared. “You will turn a few heads with these!” Although he wasn’t sure what that meant Lucien was delighted that Peter was impressed by his choice.
The young woman in the shop who served him obviously mistook him for a girl because she told him all the girls were choosing pink low tops at the moment. Frankie was jealous, he could tell, so ended up with an identical pair of her own. Sally, pleased that George was paying, decided they looked good together when they wore identical clothes.
The pair of children walked in front of Sally as they left the shop, both in black skinny jeans and black long t shirts. The pink Converse that they insisted on wearing was the only splash of colour on show. His hair was down and quite long so, from behind he looked just like a girl. In fact, he looked like a girl from the front as well. Something intrigued him as he walked along because he kept looking in the shop windows at his reflection. She thought again about how there had been no reaction when she accidentally called them both ‘girls’, and he didn’t seem to mind or correct the shop assistant who obviously thought he was a girl. She thought again that George was right and that this plan was necessary. She would reassure him when he rang that Lucien had never looked more relaxed.
George, meanwhile, found his time off in a strange country was time he didn’t need. He thought about the breakup of his marriage and his sons. His mind turned once again to Lucien and Sally’s offer of help. He wondered what he would be doing now, maybe playing football with Peter and some friends or maybe shopping for some more appropriate clothes. He was quite relaxed to think that Sally would be on top of things for him.
The two girls skipped along in front of Sally oblivious to everything other than each other. They laughed at each other’s jokes and walked with their arms around each other when they weren’t rushing off to look in shop windows.
“Luci, look!” shouted Frankie at the entrance to Claire’s. “Wouldn’t it be great!” Lucien stared through the window where a boy was getting his ear pierced. He was more or less the same age as them but he had very short hair. Lucien watched to see how it went. He wondered if it would hurt. The boy didn’t flinch but looked in the mirror at this addition to his image. Lucien was surprised when the assistant moved to his other side and prepared to add an earring to the other ear. He was intrigued. He knew boys who had one ear pierced but this boy was getting both ears done.
Frankie was less impressed by the boy and more keen on trying to win over her mother. “You said I could,” she declared.
“I said you could when you are eleven!”
“That’s only six months away…” she tried.
“So wait six months,” Sally said.
Lucien watched the boy closely as he got out of the chair and his parents admired the look and paid. They seemed quite alright with the idea that their son had two pierced ears. He was so busy concentrating that he missed most of the conversation Frankie and Sally had and was surprised when they went in the shop themselves. He thought at first that Frankie had persuaded her mother to let her have her ears pierced but they were both looking at what he thought were bracelets. They were actually anklets and mother and daughter were trying to decide which ones went best with pink converse and black skinny jeans.
“Luci, will you have the same?” Sally asked. He nodded and before they left the shop they both had gold anklets on their left legs. This was another addition that fascinated Lucien.
In bed on Sunday night, he went over the events of the weekend. Shopping had been a big adventure. He didn’t realise it could be such fun. The pink Converse were the best thing but he also loved the jewellery. They had bought bracelets and necklaces before they left town. Everything they had matched which is probably why so many people thought they were sisters. They bought white hooded tops with Coco written over the front. He wasn’t sure what that meant but he liked the design. He didn’t object when he was mistaken for a girl. Why would be insulted? ‘Nothing wrong with being a girl’ Peter said.
When they stopped for lunch the waiter had complimented Sally on her lovely daughters. Frankie and Lucien laughed and Sally accepted the compliment by saying, “Thank you, I think so too!” He wasn’t sure what he was doing, really. When he was with Frankie, he got caught up with everything. He liked what she liked and her liking things made him like them too. Better still, when he was at school in his group of friends he could now join in. He understood what they were talking about and discovered that not only did he have views but they were listened to.
As the weeks went by, he carried on with the same routine. He thought of his school uniform as a sort of disguise which he put on only to get through the day safely. He found himself admiring Jayde’s uniform, especially her black tights, and he noticed which girls had pierced ears and which didn’t. The clothes he and Frankie wore were always the same. He loved the dungarees especially with his pink Converse, he wore them A LOT! He also liked the skinny jeans which they matched with different tops. Getting dressed had never been this much fun before.
His mind kept going back to the day he saw that boy get both his ears pierced. He wondered if he could get away with it. Frankie, too, was keen to be allowed to wear earrings and she kept up her campaign to persuade Sally. Peter joined in too.
“Why not, Mum?” he said.
“Oh, not you as well,” she replied exasperated by his involvement.
“Do you want earrings?” Lucien asked him, somewhat surprised.
“Not me, no… but Frankie does and you do don’t you Luci?”
Lucien nodded because he really did but didn’t say it out loud because he did not dare to. So he was both pleased and alarmed when Sally gave a pantomime sigh and agreed. Frankie cheered, Peter smiled and Lucien beamed.
Frankie went first. Her confidence convinced Lucien that it couldn’t hurt much. When it was his turn he jumped in the chair too. Sally looked on but held her reservations in check. She could see why this change was exactly what she had agreed with George but she worried that this was a little too quick. They only had one stud per ear, nothing fancy, but they were both so proud and they spent every opportunity playing with their ears and admiring themselves in the mirror.
Lucien realised that he would have something new for everyone to talk about the next day at school. His ponytail had stopped being an issue. In fact, he was hardly noticed now and the boys left him alone. There were a few comments occasionally but mostly he was left alone. Jayde and her friends sort of protected him. Lucien knew he might be in for more trouble at school but at the same time he was desperate to show off his pierced ears to Jayde.
It was a bit surprising therefore that he made it through that first Monday with no trouble at all. Obviously, Jayde and her friends noticed but they were so complimentary about him that he had such a morale boost. As he was walking to his class, he realised he had never been so happy at school. He told his papa that when they talked on the ‘phone. This was music to his father’s ears. He believed his son was fitting in at last. He didn’t ask Lucien what had brought around this new found confidence and happiness, he just trusted that Sally was working her magic. He pictured his son, one of the boys, popular at school and growing up.
If George had been able to see his son after the ‘phone call, his elation would have dissipated. Luci went skipping back downstairs in his nightie to listen to the story Peter would read. This was a nightly ritual now. Each evening, Frankie took one side of Peter and he took the other, always once they were ready for bed. Peter was reading a Jacqueline Wilson book about a girl who lives between two parents and always feels as if she is living out of a suitcase. Luci could empathise, in a way. He loved his papa but he loved being part of this family too. He knew that, at home, there was no way his brother would read to him, let alone let him snuggle up. Instead, the television would be on and he would have to sneak away to his bedroom for any peace.
Lucien had only seen his brother once since they divided up while their papa was away. They met in town while shopping. Rene was too busy to talk much other than to ask his younger brother is he was going for the androgynous look now. Lucien didn’t know what that meant. He wondered if it was a reference to wearing black or his pink Converse. Anyway, they didn’t have much to say to each other and Lucien was so pleased when Peter emerged from the bookshop. Rene and Peter exchanged a few words but then his brother had to rush, leaving him with Peter who proudly showed him the next book they would read together.
Although he was enjoying school now, the weekends were best because this was when he could dress as he wanted to… or nearly. He and Frankie wore the same clothes. It was a sort of unwritten rule, helped by the fact that Sally always put out the clothes he was to wear. He hadn’t ever looked in Frankie’s wardrobe or the chests of drawers she had in her room. He always saw it as her space that he was allowed to stay in. He had his bed, the lovely poster of a ballet boy on the wall facing him and his doll, Maddie. On the dressing table there was his own brush and that was pretty much that. He was surprised and grateful that he was allowed to wear her spare nighties, she seemed to have two of everything, and he hadn’t seen his own pyjamas for weeks. In fact, he had seen hardly any of his own clothes since he arrived, except his school uniform. He knew Sally had been given money by his papa to help with his stay and every time they went shopping they came back with more clothes. Frankie knew what to buy and he went along with it.
It was before a shopping expedition where they had their first argument. It had started on Friday night but continued all through Saturday. Luci was brushing his hair, admiring himself in the mirror. He had to admit that his head was now the best bit of him. His hair was longer than it had ever been and his stud earrings caught the light. He knew why he was mistaken for a girl so much but he didn’t mind at all. He was humming to himself and maybe being a bit big headed. Frankie was jealous of his hair, he knew that and he could tell she was looking on enviously as he brushed it out.
“Haven’t you finished?” she snapped, eventually.
Luci turned around and looked at her. She sniffed and returned to looking at her magazine. He turned back to his hair.
She was no better in the morning, practically ignoring him at breakfast. Peter had left early for rugby practice so wasn’t around to talk to. Every question he asked her was ignored or grunted about. He had no idea what was eating her. He tried to be friendly but she wouldn’t let him break down her barrier. This had never happened between them before. He was back to feeling unsure of himself, a feeling he hadn’t had since moving in here.
Frankie took herself upstairs to get dressed and Luci decided to clear up and give her some time to herself to calm down. He was looking forward to dressing in the clothes Sally had provided for the day. They both had new purple tops with a Hello Kitty on the front. The sleeves were purple and white striped and he knew that it would go well with his pink Converse. They would wear their denim shorts as well. It would look great, he decided, so he was full of beans when he raced up the stairs to get dressed.
As soon as he stepped into the bedroom he knew Frankie was really mad at him. She had her purple Hello Kitty top, blue denim shorts and pink Converse on but she also wore a pair of purple tights. The effect was fantastic and Luci was very, very angry with her.
“How could you?” he hissed.
“You’re not my shadow,” she replied. “I’m allowed my own personality.”
“What have I done to you?” he nearly yelled, he was so frustrated.
“I’m fed up with your boasting.”
“When do I boast?” his voice whimpered. He was a little ashamed of how needy he was and how much he needed Frankie.
“All the time, every time you brush your hair.”
He stopped. He knew Frankie wanted long hair like him but he didn’t realise that she was jealous of… of him.
He turned his back on her and went to the bathroom to get dressed. He was so upset and mad and he really didn’t know what to do to get his own back. He put on the purple top and the denim shorts but the moment was spoiled. He knew he, too, was jealous.
Things turned petty between them all morning so when Sally returned from the supermarket she demanded to know what was going on. Neither of them answered so she shrugged and decided to ignore them but told them, quite clearly, there was no way she was taking them shopping later if they were still both in moods.
Back in the bedroom they continued to exchange barbed comments. Luci was hurt but knew Frankie was too. He couldn’t find a way back so instead kept the horrible comments going. At one stage he flicked his hair back to tie it up causing Frankie to say, “Here we go again, playing with the hair!”
“Grow your own, if you’re so jealous!” he snapped at her.
“Wear some tights if you’re so desperate to!” she snapped back. He froze. Had it been that obvious? His face fell and, to his horror, the tears started to fall. He hated his weakness but couldn’t stop.
“We were supposed to wear the same clothes,” he said and he knew he sounded pathetic.
For a while now he had admired the tights Jayde and her friends wore to school and he wondered what it would be like to wear some himself. He didn’t talk about it and the girls moaned about them because they were school uniform, black and all, not what they would have chosen but there you go. He would have settled for black tights any day of the week. He realised as he had these thoughts that he was jealous of the girls and wanted to be one. A while ago he had watched a television programme about a girl who had been born a boy and was very unhappy until her parents realised that she needed to live as a girl. He had felt sorry for the girl but he didn’t really relate to her. He didn’t see himself as being in the same situation. He thought back on it now and wondered. He had never felt as if he had been born in the wrong body. Rather, he had slipped towards being a girl and the closer he got to it, such as when he was mistaken for a girl in shops, the more he realised it was what he wanted.
So, when Frankie stood in front of him wearing tights he was just so jealous he could hardly contain himself. He shouted at her that she was selfish.
“Why am I selfish? I can wear what I like.”
“But, it isn’t fair!” he wailed.
Sally walked in just at that point, stared at them both and turned to Frankie.
“Care to explain?”
Frankie sniffed, trying not to cry. She didn’t answer her mother so Sally turned to Lucien.
“Luci?” He dropped his head, feeling ashamed now. “I shouted at Frankie and I didn’t mean to but…”
“I made him jealous…” Frankie said. “…on purpose.” She too dropped her head.
Sally walked over to the second of the two chests of drawers and pulled out a brand new pair of purple tights, just the same as Frankie’s.
“Try these Luci, they should be the right size.” she said, dropping them into his hands.
He stared at the packet as if he was holding a treasure. He stared for so long Sally told him he was supposed to wear them, not stare at them. He couldn’t help himself. This is what he had wanted for weeks now. He unwrapped the packet, felt the cotton soft tights fall loose and bent down to put them on.
“You might want to take your shorts off first!” Frankie said and laughed. Luci was caught out by her comment, went red but then seeing how ridiculous it would have been, he laughed too! Sally bent down at his feet, pushed him back on the bed and helped him get his foot in one leg and then in another. She helped him work the tights up his legs until he was encased in their softness. He put the shorts back on and turned to Frankie. He beamed! They looked like twins again and they hugged to prove their argument was over.
“Friends?” Luci asked.
“Sisters,” Frankie replied before Sally added “Stroppy Sisters, if you ask me.”
Luci kept looking at his legs. He loved the way they looked in tights. He turned his head to the mirror and liked what he saw. There was no doubt that a ten year old girl stared back and he was delighted with the result.
“Well that wasn’t supposed to happen this early,” Sally said staring at Frankie.
“I know, I’m sorry,” she replied.
“Well,” Sally said melting slightly. “No harm done… but no more bright ideas from you, young lady.”
Frankie nodded.
“As for you,” Sally said turning to Luci who was too busy enjoying the tights to take much notice, “I think you can start choosing your own clothes in the morning. I don’t need to do it for you.” She moved over to the chest of drawers and opened the top drawer. Then, she left the room.
Luci moved over to look in the drawer. There were three other pairs of tights, still in their packets. He picked them up. He had a black pair, navy blue and a pair of multi coloured stripes. There were also pairs of knickers and vests, just like the ones Frankie wore. He opened the next drawer and the next and discovered tops and a denim skirt. He turned to look at Frankie.
“Are these yours?”
Frankie groaned, picked up a pillow and threw it at Luci.
“Look in the other chest of drawers, stupid!”
He opened the drawers on the left and saw the same clothes there. He turned back to her friend who smiled back. “Mine on the left, yours on the right!”
Luci leapt over to her and hugged her again.
Their earlier argument was over and they played in their room for most of the morning. Peter poked his head around the door when he got back from rugby to say hello. He chatted for a bit before heading off to the shower, leaving Luci to reflect that he didn’t say anything about the way he was dressed. He was treated as if it was completely normal to be in tights and shorts.
When they got ready to go to town, Luci put on the pink Converse and was amazed at how brilliant they were with the purple tights. When Sally announced they would be leaving for town soon Luci had a momentary panic. Could he, should he, been seen out like this? It was one thing to be mistaken for a girl when he was wearing clothes that any boy or girl could wear but, now, these were girl clothes without any doubt. Luci knew a line had been crossed. He wanted to cross that line but, having done so, he was a little scared at people’s reactions. Meanwhile, Sally and Frankie behaved as if everything it was completely normal and stepping outside the house in tights would be fine.
He was conflicted. He wanted to be seen and yet he wanted to be invisible. He wanted to wear what he wanted to wear but not be the centre of attention… or the centre of ridicule. The first steps in town, from the car park to the shops, were electric. He was aware of himself the whole time, every time his legs moved, and he both loved and was scared by what he saw. The idea of bumping into somebody he knew was truly terrifying. He watched every child who passed, really closely, checking for signs of recognition. He undid his ponytail at one point in the hope that loose hair would mask him.
Sally kept her word; there was no clothes shopping. As soon as they could, though, they broke away and went window shopping. Jewellery, clothes, make-up, they saw the lot but didn’t buy. They were allowed a magazine each so they picked ones that they could share, full of fashion tips and advice on how to get a boyfriend. Luci felt a bit odd about that but Frankie talked about the boys in her class she really liked. Luci didn’t like many of the boys at his school. He kept well away from the all and, to be fair, they no longer seemed to notice him at all.
Staying with his friend Frankie and her mother while his father was working away proved life changing for Lucien... and his time at school is becoming more complicated.
On Sunday they painted their nails, Frankie painted hers red but Luci went with a dark blue, mostly because he was wearing the navy blue tights! They no longer felt the need to wear exactly the same clothes and Luci loved the excitement involved in selecting items from his own chest of drawers. The nails, though, added to his most peculiar Monday.
It started well. He went straight over to the group of girls in Jayde’s corner. He was completely accepted here now. The other girls seemed to expect him to turn up and join in their conversations. He noticed this when Adam, a boy in his class came running over to retrieve the ball that had been kicked over to them by accident. Adam was a sweet boy, Luci always thought. He wasn’t one of the boys who used to give him a bad time. Yet, the girls were horrible to him when he apologetically asked for the ball back.
“This is a ‘girls’ only’ area, keep out!” one yelled.
Adam apologised to them again and backed away, glancing at Luci as he did so. This made Luci feel odd. He was ashamed of being included in any group that was horrible to one person but he also realised he was a girl, to the others at least. Then again, and his mind went back to the conversation with Frankie over the weekend, he thought again about how sweet Adam was. He gave him a half- smile.
When he turned up in class, though, he was immediately in trouble for having painted nails. He had completely forgotten that Sally had told them both to clean their nail polish before school. He couldn’t think how he had forgotten. Now, he was told off in front of everyone and told to get to the office to have the polish removed.
There were two other girls there when he turned up, each had nail polish.
“Honestly, you girls,” the secretary said. “You know the rules yet you still try it on.”
Luci was shame faced. He had never been in trouble for anything before and to be caught out for such a girl- thing as this was embarrassing to say the least. As he held out his hands for her to clean the polish off, he thought about the fact that the secretary called him a girl. She knew him! She knew he wasn’t a girl. Or not a real one! Yet she wasn’t mocking him and she wasn’t unaware of who he was. Neither had his teacher been shocked that it was a boy with painted nails, her concern was only with the school rules.
He was still troubled by this at playtime when Jayde, taking the opportunity to get him on his own, quizzed him on his life. She wanted to know about Frankie, about his Papa, about his brother and about his intentions. She was so direct, it took Luci by surprise. He answered every question without thinking about holding anything back. By the time she finished he had told her that he didn’t really miss his mama, although he had to start with, that his papa loved him but didn’t really know much about him and then he told her that the bullying had stopped pretty much from the time he had his ears pierced.
“Does your dad know you’re a girl now?” she asked, finally.
Luci hesitated. He had sort of forgotten that his papa would return. This was strange as he did really miss him and loved talking to him on the phone. He was pleased that his dad seemed to brighten when he told him that he was enjoying school much more, now.
“Has the name calling stopped?” his dad asked him. Luci never realised that his papa knew about that.
“Yes,” he replied and, he added, “I have lots of friends now!”
This had been music to George’s ears. His son was becoming a real boy, popular with others and, whatever little personality traits he had to cause the others to mock him, he was acting just like other boys. Once again George had every reason to be pleased he had left Lucien in the care of Sally.
“Does your dad know you’re a girl now?” the question rang in his ears. Fortunately, the whistle blew and they had to return to their respective classes but not before Jayde reminded him he hadn’t answered.
Monday continued to be strange. He could not concentrate in class. Not only had he been embarrassed about being in trouble over his nails but he kept going back to Jayde’s key question. Stupid though it sounded, he hadn’t faced up to the idea of being a girl. He loved dressing up, sure. He was happier than he had been for ages, sure. He was less awkward, the girl things felt more like his real self but he hadn’t done any thinking or planning about who other people thought he was. Every time he was mistaken for a girl, he saw it as somebody else’s mistake for not realising he was a boy. Until, that is, he stepped into town in shorts and tights. He thought back to his argument with Frankie. He had been so jealous when he thought she could wear tights and he couldn’t. He had loved it when he discovered Sally had bought him his own pairs. Where was the line between boy and girl?
He found it hard to focus and missed most of what his teacher Miss Grant was saying. Things became even more mixed up during the lesson before lunch because they had to work in pairs. He was used to the awkward pause when nobody wanted to work with him so today’s surprise was that Adam was immediately by his side. The shock on Luci’s face was obvious because Adam said, “Do you mind? I can go, if you like.”
Luci’s shake of the head was barely noticeable.
“I said one boy to one girl,” Miss Grant boomed across the room. Luci started to rise from his seat only to notice two boys on the other side of the room moan and slump away from each other. When they had found girls to partner with, Miss Grant surveyed the room.
“That’s better,” she announced. Luci eased himself back into his seat with his head bowed. He waited for Miss Grant to say something to him or Adam. Maybe, having humiliated him in front of the class with his nail polish, she was going to be more sensitive when she told them two boys couldn’t work together. Instead, Adam smiled back at him and seemed to think this arrangement would work well.
Luci was grateful that Adam had listened to the instructions. He was able to tell him what they had to do. They worked quietly for a while but Luci was conscious that, every so often, Adam would glance in his direction as if about to say something.
“Thanks for smiling, this morning,” he said, eventually. “Sorry about the football and all that!”
Luci wasn’t sure what to say so kept staring at the table. Having started, Adam ploughed on. “They can be quite intimidating, sometimes,” he said.
He used big words like ‘intimidating’. Luci thought about this and how sweet he was, not only because he was well spoken, which made him different from most other boys in the school, but because he was thoughtful.
“They have been nice to me,” said Luci at last. “Friendly and everything.”
“That’s because you are a girl!” Adam replied. “They are not so friendly to me! Mind you, it must be annoying to have a football flying at you, I can see that. However, they only have to be a bit understanding…” Adam chatted on, relieved somewhat that Luci had actually spoken to him. Luci heard only a fraction of what he was saying. He was stunned that Adam had actually called him a girl. Adam, who had known him for a long time and knew he was a boy; maybe he was not good at being one but he was a boy. He might be conflicted but the rest of his class had clearly made up its mind about him.
Then it struck him: they had made up their minds about him and they were not bothered! His classmates and teacher acted as if it was obvious he was now a girl. He looked down at his uniform, boy grey trousers and school sweatshirt. Nothing girly about them!
Jayde was on his case obviously. She found him at lunchtime in the library where he had retreated to think things through. He wasn’t upset but he was confused. By the end of the lesson he was enjoying being Adam’s partner. He was grateful that he did nearly all the work. Luci just couldn’t focus. More than that, Adam treated him considerately. At one stage, a boy snatched a pen out of his hand and Adam snatched it back saying “She’s using that!” The boy backed off leaving Luci redfaced at the use of the word ‘she’. It wasn’t the first time. He had accepted it before when people mistook him for a girl but here, in this place where he had been a pupil for years, it was significant.
Jayde kept on at him to join them on the playground but Luci resisted.
“You don’t have to answer my question if you don’t want to,” she said. “I’m just nosey, really. Come on, we miss you!”
Luci smiled at this.
“We do! You’re one of us.” She put her head closer to his. “One of the girls!” she whispered and looked for his reaction.
“I need to think,” Luci replied. Jayde looked around the library. She was not impressed. “What do people do in here?” she declared loudly enough to get told off.
“You could try reading a book,” Adam said lifting his head from his novel. Luci turned, surprised to see him at the next table.
Jayde dropped her voice again.
“Why not wear a skirt to school?” she asked. Luci tried to silence her, aware of everyone around them.
“Chill out, will you! Nobody can hear, except Adam and he adores you!” She emphasised the ‘adores’ part. Luci went red but said nothing.
“Go on then, why don’t you?”
“It’s all going too fast,” he said eventually. “I need to think.”
“What’s to think about?” She looked around again, bored by the place. Then she turned back.
“You look good in tights,” she said deliberately, making sure he understood that she knew.
“How do…”
“I saw you in town with your friend and her mum.”
“Oh!”
“Now don’t look glum, you looked fantastic! “ She sighed heavily. “What is your problem? Honestly, girl, you are one moody cow!” She smiled to show no offense was meant but she turned serious again almost immediately.
“What do you think is going to happen? Everyone accepts you, no one has been unkind.” She stopped abruptly. “Have they?”
“No!”
“There we are then. As far as I can see nobody is bothered about you being a girl… except you!”
Luci thought about it. “I’m not bothered, not really,” he said.
“Then why not wear a skirt tomorrow?”
“I don’t have one. Well, not a school uniform one!”
“Don’t blame you!” Jayde said. “They are skanky. Only thing worse would be wearing trousers like yours!” She looked down at his trousers and made a buffoon laugh that got her noticed.
“I came in here to avoid being noticed,” Luci reminded her.
Jayde was not to be put off. “Adam, Adam,” she hissed. He looked up. “Tell her she’ll look better in a skirt, will you?”
Adam looked at Luci and nodded with a smile. Then he went straight back to his book.
“Told you, he adores you!” she whispered.
Luci stood up and packed her stuff away.
“You can borrow one of mine,” Jayde said as she followed Luci out. “Tomorrow morning, meet me at the front of school. Do you need black tights?”
“I have my own tights,” Luci replied before thinking how easily that slipped out.
“Don’t be late,” Jayde said as she headed off.
“I’ll think about it.”
“As I said, ‘Don’t be late!’” she said waving behind her.
The rest of the day passed slowly but Luci’s mind was not on school work. At the end of school Sally was waiting at the school office. This was not good news.
“What have you got to say for yourself?” she demanded.
Luci was taken aback. His mind scanned all the things he might have done wrong. Had she heard about the Jayde’s plan for the skirt? It was confusing.
When the headteacher appeared, Sally was apologetic and explained that Luci had come to school with painted nails (oh that!) without permission but she would make sure she was punished at home.
The headteacher smiled. “No need for anything too heavy,” he said. “Lots of the children try it on but we have to make a stand. In any case, thank you for coming in.”
Sally practically pushed him out the front entrance.
“How embarrassing!” she said. “I have never been called to a school before for either Frankie or Peter. Get in!” She was furious. Her driving did nothing to calm her down either.
“I’m sorry, I forgot I had it on,” he tried eventually.
“Wait until your papa hears about this!”
Luci froze. What would he find out? Jayde’s question came flooding back.
“It won’t happen again,” Luci tried, desperate to head off trouble.
“Too right!” Sally barked, slamming the break on as they turned up outside Frankie’s school. Frankie could sense the atmosphere as soon as she got in the car. When Sally had finished relating the story of being phoned by the school and going in to see the head teacher, Frankie laughed. Sally was not impressed.
“Oh come on, mum, lighten up. So she went to school with some nail polish. Bet she wasn’t the only one!”
“There were two others there as well.” Luci explained.
“See!”
“That does not excuse your behaviour, young lady,” Sally said. “There will be consequences.”
The punishment took both Frankie and Luci by surprise. He was made to put on his pyjamas as soon as he got home. He hadn’t worn them since he went into nighties and he did not welcome the change back. He looked at his pyjama top with his arms outstretched and wondered how they had ever felt like the right thing for him to wear. Peter, too, noticed the cloud that had come over everyone.
“What did she do, mum, burn the school down?” he asked.
“Worse, she embarrassed me!”
“So, ritual humiliation is called for,” her son said.
Sally sighed once again. It had really been a trying day. However, she could see how dejected Luci looked and relented.
“Alright,” she said. “As you are ganging up on me as if I were the one who had gone to school wearing nail polish…” She looked around at each of them. “Luci, you can get changed.”
Frankie cheered and Peter said “well done” but to who was not clear. Luci leapt up to go back to the bedroom but Sally called after him.
“Into your nightie, though. You are still in trouble.”
Luci pulled on his nightie and felt right again. He folded up the pyjamas and put them in the drawer. As he did so, he remembered the denim skirt that was waiting in the bottom drawer for him to wear. The moment had not yet come but, he admitted to himself, he was excited at the idea. Then he thought about Jayde’s offer and wondered whether he should take her up on it or whether this, too, would get him into trouble with Sally. So many things to think about!
Sally didn’t tell his papa on the ‘phone that evening so he was able to make his day sound like a good one. He told papa all about his new friend Adam and how helpful he had been and how much he liked him. George listened with growing pride and pictured his son as one of the boys, popular now where once he had struggled to fit in. It felt strange to be ready for bed so early and he got the message from Sally that she meant what she said about punishment as he was sent to bed earlier than Frankie and he missed Peter reading them the bedtime story.
Time on his own provided the opportunity to think things through. He knew that he really, really wanted to wear a skirt but he couldn’t shake off the idea that he would be a laughing stock. Yet, since the day when he first wore his hair in a ponytail there had been no further problem. He couldn’t think of a single time when he had been bothered. Even the odd comment and snigger had stopped… completely. Luci thought and thought about it and realised people were friendlier to him as a girl than they had ever been when he was a boy. ‘When he was a boy…’ He was no longer a boy.
“I am a girl,” he said to himself. “I am a girl!” went through his head as he drifted off to sleep.
Jayde was ready for her the next morning at the school gate. So, too, was Adam. Luci was surprised to see them but also pleased especially when Adam said he wanted to walk to school with her. He had been too shy to ask so waited at the school gates for her to arrive. Jayde rolled her eyes at this and said, “If I could interrupt you two young love birds, we’ve got important business before school starts.” She pulled Luci off in the direction of the school building, stopped and turned back to a crestfallen Adam and called out “Are you going to help or what?”
Inside, Jayde led Luci towards the girls’ toilets. Luci braked when she realised.
“I can’t go in there!”
“Why not?” Jayde asked.
Luci didn’t know what to say, she just thought she should avoid going in.
“Look, it is tons nicer than the boys’ toilets. Trust me, I’ve been in there. No offence, Adam!” She pulled Luci in and instructed Adam to stand guard. “Don’t let anyone in, right?”
It felt strange to be in the girls’ toilets. She had avoided all toilets successfully for the last few weeks. She had hardly drunk a thing to keep from the dilemma she knew she would face at some point. Jayde, though, was on a mission. She went in to a cubicle, waited and then grabbed her by the arm and pulled her in.
“Honestly, Luce, do you want to get sorted or not?” She brought out a dark grey school skirt and handed it over. “This should fit, try it.” Then, when Luci kept staring at the skirt, “Drop your trousers! Honestly, Luce!”
Luci undid her trousers, let them drop to the floor and stepped out of them revealing her black tights. She had put the tights on in the bathroom that morning so that she didn’t get any awkward questions from Frankie. She thought Frankie would be supportive but she didn’t want to have to explain anything at the moment. She was also worried that Sally would find out. After the nail polish incident she didn’t want to do anything more that got her into trouble. She was worried enough that wearing a skirt might cause the headteacher to ring Sally again.
The door to the toilets opened a little. Adam was stressed at standing guard and wanted them to get a move on. Jayde told him to chill.
Luci pulled on the skirt and felt a shiver of electricity through her whole body. It was like being dressed and undressed at the same time. She smiled broadly when she looked in the mirror, mesmerised by what she saw. She looked just like a ten year old girl. “Well, I am,” she said out loud.
Jayde was too busy to admire Luci and instead pulled out a pair of school shoes. She handed them over. They were black and had a strap that buckled up. Lots of the girls wore them.
“I had to guess the size,” Jayde said.
“Shoes?” Luci said somewhat lamely.
“Yes, someone has to think about these things!”
They were slightly too big so Jayde stuffed some paper towel in the ends. When they were on, Luci admired herself again. The skirt, the tights, the shoes with a strap… it all worked so well.
“If I could get you away from a mirror for a few moments… we do have to get outside before the day starts or we’ll be in trouble. It’s alright for you goody two shoes but some of us are on warnings about breaking rules.” Jayde opened the door and stepped out. Luci followed, out into the corridor, into the open. She was thrilled and scared stiff all at the same time.
Adam smiled at her. “You look great,” he said. She smiled back.
“As I said, if we could get you two love birds onto the playground, I won’t lose all my privileges.” Jayde walked in front and jabbed her thumb for them to follow.
Luci was grateful for Adam’s support. He stood beside them and it felt as if she could hide behind him if she needed to. But she didn’t. Nobody paid any attention to her. The playground was flooded with children waiting for the whistle to go and everyone was talking or playing or hanging around. Some boys were joking with each other but nobody looked in Luci’s direction or looked startled, surprised or shocked. Certainly, no one laughed.
The New Sister
When I met my mum’s new boyfriend I was wearing girls’ clothes. Not a good start. Maybe he thought I wanted to be a girl. I didn’t, not really.
I was only wearing the clothes because it had been a fund raising day at school with the theme, ‘The Wrong Clothes’ and mum had persuaded me to dress up as a girl. “It will be such a laugh,” she said and I sort of went along with it because I could see that it would be funny. I was worried about what the others at school would say but mum’s enthusiasm for the idea was infectious, so in the end I agreed. Mum said she would ask some of the girls who go to my ballet class if they would lend me the clothes.
Actually it had been fun, mostly, although the usual crowd mocked and abused me. As a boy who danced I was used to it. I ignored them and my real friends… well the girls really…had been nice about it and took it in the right spirit. The boys used it as another opportunity to have a go at me, poke fun and call me names. Just a normal day for them! I thought I would get changed as soon as I got home but instead mum picked me up from school and announced we were going somewhere ‘as a surprise!’
“Not dressed like this, mum,” I said. What was she thinking of?
“There’s someone I want you to meet and it’s on the way home.” So, when mum introduced me to Mike, the new man in her life, I was wearing navy blue tights with a red tartan skirt and a red top. Her words, “This is my son Oliver,” didn’t really match the vision in front of him.
“Your son?” he questioned, smirking in a way that was to become familiar. “Are you sure?”
“Oliver, this is Mike,” mum said, “and somewhere, oh yes, here is his daughter, Harriet.”
A girl the same age as me appeared from behind him wearing tracksuit bottoms and a plain dark T- shirt. I felt really silly standing in their doorway in my girly clothes and instinctively crossed one leg in front of the other in the hope that, somehow, that hid a bit more of me. She looked more like a boy than I did. I expected her to laugh but instead she said hello and disappeared. I wanted, no needed, to tell her why I was wearing tights and a skirt in case she got the wrong idea but I didn’t get the chance and mum didn’t seem to feel the need to explain. I thought I’d better tell Mike.
“At school today…” I started but he cut me off to invite us in. I felt odd. I really wanted to explain my appearance.
I spent the next hour really wishing that I hadn’t let mum talk me into this costume. Originally, I was going to wear my pyjamas all day. That was what lots of other kids had done. What a fool I was to wear girls’ clothes. Thinking about school reminded me that my teacher told us that first impressions count. What impression I made with Mike and Harriet was bound to be the wrong one. I really wanted to explain my appearance. I tried again when inside but Mike suggested ‘we girls’ got to know each other by going upstairs to play in Harriet’s room. I groaned when he said this but mum just giggled. It was much worse than the abuse I had at school.
“Are they your clothes?” was the first question Harriet asked me when we got to her room.
“No way!” I said, offended. “Mum borrowed them from some girls at my ballet class.”
“You do ballet?” Her eyes widened.
“Yes!” I was used to that reaction. I had become quite good at either ignoring rude comments or answering back. But trying to give a smart reply while dressed in a skirt I felt like I was on dodgy ground. I waited for her to make some witty remark but she didn’t. Instead, she asked me about it. I sat on her bed and wished for the thousandth time since leaving school that I had worn something else. I told her how, when I was seven, I saw some ballet on the television and just knew I wanted to do that. Some parents would have tried to put me off or told me boys shouldn’t do that. Not my mum. She researched the teachers and found me a class and, when other boys at school made fun of me, she said just the right things to keep my spirits up and I kept on going. “Oliver,” she said, “If you are serious about this, I will support you all the way.” She was like that, my mum.
“You’re lucky,” she sighed. “I really like football but that just winds my daddy up. He thinks it’s stupid for a girl to play. But I’m really good. And I’m not being big headed. I really am. I don’t tell him I play at school. I just can’t talk to him about it.”
I was lucky. My mum really encouraged me and made sure I received praise for the right things at the right time. She didn’t overdo it, though. She had high expectations. The best thing, though, was that she supported me.
“What team do you support?” Harriet continued. She sat down on the floor. Well she collapsed really- very inelegant. She sat cross-legged and looked up at me.
I hesitated. “Um, I don’t really like football,” I replied, crossing my legs.
Harriet looked surprised. “I thought all boys liked football,” she said.
I sighed. This came up a lot at school as well. “Well, not this one.” I smiled, sheepishly. I didn’t usually worry about these questions. I had got stronger about it over the years but today, dressed in a skirt, was different. And not knowing Harriet very well made it worse. All she knew about me was that I was dressed like a girl. At least everyone at school knew the clothes were ‘wrong’.
Harriet slouched against her bed. Her posture was very bad, I thought.
“Is that why you dress in girls’ clothes?” she asked.
“I don’t!” My voice rose at that. “It was dressing up day at school and mum thought it would be funny to go as a girl,” I justified myself. At least I had got that out at last. Harriet considered this.
“How many other boys did that?” she continued.
“None.” My voice fell that time. I was convinced that at least one other boy would have done. Actually, loads of boys had talked about it but in the end I was the only one who did. They all wore their pyjamas.
I straightened my back and shifted around on Harriet’s bed, smoothing down the skirt again. I could see Harriet looking and went red.
“You wear them really well,” she said.
“Mum borrowed them,” I replied.
“Your shoes are a perfect fit,” she said. She was right, they were. I think they were called ballet flats. I don’t know where she borrowed them from.
“Are you sure they’re not yours?” I looked at her trying to work out whether she was about to mock me but she grinned back at me and I smiled. Then we burst out laughing and I knew we were going to be friends.
Mike called us from downstairs. “Come on, girls,” he said. “Time for Olivia to go home.” I hated that but my mum laughed again as if he was funny.
“Ignore him,” Harriet whispered. “I do.”
Driving home Mike’s words kept going through my head but I didn’t talk to mum about it. She didn’t say much either except, “They’re lovely aren’t they? Mike and his daughter, I mean.” There wasn’t much to say. At home I got changed as soon as I could. I put the clothes in the laundry basket as I was trained to do and went downstairs with the shoes.
“Who do I give these back to, mum?” I asked holding them out.
“They’re yours,” she said in reply. It was as if the shoes were toxic. I dropped them.
“What do you mean?”
“They’re yours. I bought them for you,” she smiled.
I stared at her. “I thought you were going to borrow them!”
“Oh I know,” she explained, “but I wanted them to fit properly. Didn’t want them to be uncomfortable or dangerous, and I wanted you to look really good and I thought ‘why not?’ So…” She finished.
I kept staring at her. “What am I going to do with them, now?”
“Keep them,” she replied.
“But I can’t wear them again,” I said my voice rising.
“Why not? They suited you.”
“Duh, mum! They are for girls!” I said using the really obvious voice I used on my friends when they were being dumb.
“Well, I thought they suited you. Perhaps wear them just to ballet. They are ballet flats after all.” She laughed as if this was a great joke.
I groaned. “I’ll put them away,” I said thinking that at least I would be able to hide them in my cupboard. Then another thought occurred to me.
“Who did you borrow the skirt and tights from?”
“I bought them, too,” she replied. She was busying herself and not looking at me at all.
“But you said you were going to borrow the clothes,” I continued following her around the kitchen as she cleared things away.
“I know, but then I thought it would be lovely to have new things.” She left the room
I let the information sink in, then followed her.
“I’m not wearing them again,” I said trying to make that sound final.
“You wear tights all the time at ballet,” she said. I stared back.
“Yes, but that’s different,” I said. Mum turned and looked at me, at last.
“Why?”
And I stared back and didn’t know what to say. She smiled and then carried on tidying, leaving me confused.
She was in love. I could tell. I didn’t really like Mike back then. There was something about him I didn’t trust. He was all ‘lovey- dovey’ with mum but as soon as he spoke to Harriet he became such a grump. I actually felt sorry for her. She tried to please him. “Daddy this, daddy that, look daddy, look!” It didn’t do any good. So, I didn’t mind at all playing with her when they both stayed over. It was better to be playing with her than sticking around the adults. Mike didn’t have much to say to me to start with but, as I was to find out, he had plenty of opinions about me. “Sure he’s all boy?” he said one day when he didn’t know I could hear from the kitchen where I was getting a drink.
“Lots of boys dance,” Mum replied.
“How many go to his class?”
“Well, he’s the only one...but…” Mike didn’t reply but from the smug look on his face as he came through to the kitchen I could tell he thought he had won a point in an argument.
Mike found fault with most things Harriet did. He seemed to have a permanent downer on Harriet. She couldn’t do anything to please him. You could see her cringe when her dad started on her. She seemed to shrink. At times like these I usually suggested that we go upstairs to play. I didn’t care about cutting Mike off in mid moan either.
“What do you want to play, Harriet?”
Mum would smooth over the miserable Mike who did, it has to be said, cheer up when Harriet left the room.
“I don’t think he was too impressed to hear about my dancing,” I said to Harriet when we were alone.
“No he wasn’t,” Harriet confirmed, “but don’t worry. Nothing much impresses him. Certainly not anything I do.” She smiled and I could tell that we would be close. I liked her and I felt sorry for her, and it was good to have someone I could talk to.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said. Even though I didn’t really like her dad it was good that she had come along. “If our parents get together we’ll be brother and sister,” I said. Having a sister might be fun.
“If my daddy and your mummy get together I don’t think he’ll let you go on dancing. He doesn’t think boys should dance. He’s quite old fashioned.”
I looked at Harriet to see if she was serious.
“Nothing will stop me dancing,” I said but even as I spoke I started to worry about what might be ahead. Surely mum wouldn’t start anything serious with someone so… so…bigoted. Would she?
Harriet and I watched closely over the next few months as they grew closer. It was an odd situation. We grew closer too, like brother and sister, and we both loved that so we kept a close eye on how things were developing between our parents. Mike and Harriet stayed every weekend and then started staying in the week as well. Harriet went to a different school on the other side of town but the evening when we were together was great.
“Haven’t you got any football tops?” Harriet asked one time when we were hanging around in my room.
“Don’t be stupid,” I replied. “Why would I want one?”
She sighed. “Shame.” She looked at my top. It wasn’t that great, just a dark blue sweatshirt with a surfer on it. Mum bought it for me ages ago.
“Shall we swap tops?” she asked jumping up.
“Er..no!” I said. Why would we?
She looked crestfallen and I felt mean. “It just feels a bit odd swapping with a girl,” I explained.
“But my top isn’t girly or anything,” she replied. It was purple with silver stars on it. Maybe not excessively girly but not boy-like either. On the other hand, I had worn similar things in dance performances. We were big on the star motif at my dance school. But…
“I’d rather not,” I said hoping that would be an end to it.
“Please,” she continued. I weighed it up and because she looked so upset and she was really nice, I agreed. We swapped tops and I was surprised by how well hers fitted me. She looked really good in my top. Something about the way she wore it made her look cool. I was impressed. She adopted a sort of skater boy stagger to her walk that I never managed. We played all afternoon and forgot about our parents downstairs, so I was caught unawares when Mike came in the room, took one look at me, and laughed.
I immediately felt self- conscious. Perhaps I shouldn’t have let Harriet have my sweatshirt.
“Come on girls, time for something to eat.” I hated the way he called us girls whenever he could. He just loved it. Mind you, wearing her top didn’t help.
“We’d better get changed,” I said to Harriet but she was gone before I could insist. I hesitated and then went downstairs.
Mike grinned as he handed me a plate.
“You look lovely dear,” mum said and I squirmed. I looked at the top again. Maybe it was more girly than I had first thought. It was full of stars after all. Silver ones and they did sparkle a bit.
“Harriet wanted to swap tops,” I explained.
“You did too!” she exclaimed. She was quite animated.
“Well I agreed,” I started, “but I …”
Mike cut me off. “There we are then,” he said. “You agreed.” I didn’t bother replying. What was the point? Mike didn’t have a high opinion of me.
“Good job you were both wearing jeans,” Mike continued, “or you’d be in a skirt again.”
I looked to mum to defend me but she was smiling as if the whole conversation was okay.
“You know what would go well with that? Your ballet flats,” she said.
“They’re not really mine are they?” I said, embarrassed by the way things were going.
“Where are they?” mum went on.
“Upstairs,” I mumbled. Mum left the room.
Harriet looked at me. “You said you borrowed them!” she said accusingly.
It was too complicated to explain to her so I just looked down. Mike smirked a lot. When mum came back in the room she was carrying my…the…ballet flats.
“Here they are, put them on,” she said breezily. I always thought my mum was intelligent but here she was acting as if she didn’t have a clue what was going on around her. Didn’t she see how Mike was grinning at me?
“Mum, I don’t want to,” I tried.
“Oh, come on, I’m only asking you to try them on,” she replied.
“After all, we know they fit,” said Mike. “You have worn them before.”
“When you borrowed them,” Harriet threw in to the conversation with heavy sarcasm.
So, I put them on and yes, with jeans and the purple top with sparkly stars I did look more like a girl. The more I looked at it the more girly that top appeared. How had I not seen it when Harriet was wearing it?
Mike decided we should go to the cinema. I swear he only said that because I of the way I was dressed.
“Can I borrow some of Oliver’s trainers?” Harriet asked my mum.
“Of course, dear,” mum replied without even asking me.
I could see trouble ahead. I didn’t want to go out, not like this anyway.
“Mum, I don’t want to go,” I tried. Mike jumped in.
“We’re going,” he said. So we did. Mike was the boss that was for sure and everyone around him did as they were told. Mum seemed to like that as well.
She smiled at me. “Oh, Oliver, you’ll have fun, if you just let yourself.”
What was fun about being out wearing girls’ shoes and a top that sparkled? I groaned which annoyed mum.
“Oliver, stop it! They are your shoes, you’ve worn them before, so stop making a fuss.”
At least inside the cinema things would be dark, I thought, but getting there, queuing up and walking through the foyer would be no fun.
“What are we going to see?” Mike asked. “Better not be a chick flick, although I’m out- numbered,” he said. Mum laughed again.
Inside the cinema Mike went off to buy tickets. I looked around at everyone checking to see if there was anyone from my school. I was so aware of my girly feet and the top which sparkled. I’m glad to say there was no one there I knew that evening. Some friends of Harriet’s spotted her and came over. They were the sort of loud mouth boys that I stayed away from at school and who you could rely on to make a stupid or hurtful comment when they found out I danced. They were very friendly with Harriet, calling her ‘pal’ and ‘man’ and ‘mate’ a lot.
“This your sister?” they said looking at me. I blushed bright red and dreaded what Harriet would say. I didn’t have to worry, though, because as soon as they spotted Mike coming their way they disappeared. Mike didn’t look pleased with Harriet.
“What did they want?” he growled.
“Just saying hello,” she replied going all sullen.
Then the most surprising things happened. First Mike turned to me and looked concerned. “They weren’t horrible to you were they?”
“No daddy,” Harriet answered but her dad stopped her.
“I’m asking Ollie, here,” he said. Ollie? No one called me that but it sounded friendly, somehow. He looked at me again and I thought he genuinely cared.
“No they weren’t,” I answered. He smiled and then he took me by the hand and we walked into the cinema with me holding his hand. Mum followed and Harriet slouched along behind. And I felt protected. That was it. I felt protected by Mike. It was a feeling I liked. The film wasn’t that good but I didn’t care. The trip was special because of the way Mike treated me.
I thought after that things would be different. But they weren’t. The next time Mike and Harriet came over he was back to his dismissive self: horrible to Harriet and rude about me. I was about to enter a room when I heard him telling my mum that he thought I was rubbing off on Harriet. We had been upstairs doing our homework together. Well, different homework tasks but working at the same time was a big help. Mike was surprised that Harriet was actually doing her homework. Something she wasn’t usually good about. Mum told him I always did my homework on time.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” he said.
“What do you mean?” Mum asked.
“Well, goes to ballet, does his homework without a battle. His arms swing out when he moves…”
My arms do what?
“What’s wrong with his arms?” mum asked.
“They swing out like a girl. Haven’t you noticed?”
“Maybe,” mum answered. Not the best answer.
“Not a real boy is he?” I tensed outside the door waiting for mum to defend me. Nothing. I clenched my teeth and entered the room ready to glare at Mike.
“Hello Oliver, love,” mum said. I looked over at her. She was smiling but there was something in her look that made me think she was weighing up what Mike had just said.
“Not a real boy, is he?” I remembered those words and played them over and over in my head. I was going to mention it to Harriet but something stopped me. I didn’t want her to think her daddy had got to me and, to be honest, I started to worry that he might have a point. My arms and hands did, I have to admit, seem to swing out as I walked. They must do it on their own I thought because I didn’t mean or intend them to. I couldn’t bear it if mum told me she agreed with him.
But, confusingly, Mike could then be really nice to me. Mum and me had gone to their house for a Saturday and as usual I joined Harriet in her bedroom so that we could hang out. Mum had made me bring my ballet flats, to wear as slippers she said, so as soon as we arrived I changed into them. Mike noticed and I waited for a comment but he only smiled at me. Upstairs, Harriet greeted me and instantly fell in love with my Formula One T- shirt. I don’t know why. It was nothing special. I didn’t choose it or anything. But when she suggested we swap I agreed at once but then looked at her plain olive green top and was uninspired. She noticed.
“Choose something from my wardrobe,” she said. “But don’t get too excited. I don’t have much that’s good.” I took a look and wondered what she was talking about. She had such a lot of good stuff. I chose a yellow T- shirt with a design of a crazy cartoon girl holding out a bunch of flowers. It was vibrant and fun. It also suited me or so I thought and I twirled to show Harriet.
“Funny, but I didn’t realise how good that top looks. It looks really good on you, anyway,” she said.
When Mike saw it, he agreed. “Ollie, you look fantastic,” he said and mum joined in the admiration as well. I felt pleased as punch to have such attention. I admired myself and agreed: I did look good. Their praise gave me a boost all day.
After that Harriet and I swapped tops every time we were at each other’s houses. And each time when we parted I was left wearing something of Harriet’s. It went into the laundry bin at home and ended up in my drawer or wardrobe along with my other stuff. It felt a bit strange at first to have her clothes around but little by little I got used to it and then occasionally even changed into one of her tops after school. They were so much better than my usual ones. If mum noticed she didn’t say anything other than to tell me I looked good in whatever I had on. I hadn’t really given clothes much thought before but I had a knack for selecting just the right outfits. I was careful not to wear Harriet’s clothes when we were out but I loved changing into them at home. I even wore my ballet flats a lot as well. They were so comfortable, it seemed silly not to. Each time mum announced that we were going round to Mike’s or that they were coming to visit us I made sure I had on a top that Harriet would want. I also found myself hoping that whatever she had would suit me. Mostly, it did. Often I looked better than she did. I’m not being big headed here, it is just that Harriet usually looked uncomfortable until she changed into one of my shirts. Then she relaxed more. It felt good that I was able to help her out.
On one occasion, I selected a grey vest- like top from her wardrobe. It was longer than a boy’s vest and had purple and silver glitter in horizontal stripes across it. It was gorgeous. And it really suited me.
“I’ve never seen you wearing this before,” I said to her.
“Wouldn’t be seen dead in that,” she sniffed. “Daddy keeps buying me things which he hopes I will like but I don’t.”
“But this is wonderful,” I said doing a twirl in front of her mirror. I loved the way it allowed me to show off my arms and shoulders.
It was a shame she wore jeans most of the time. I did, too, but mine were usually neater than hers. Honestly, she really didn’t seem to care about the way she looked. Anyway, I just sometimes thought that the tops would look better with something other than jeans. Then I spotted her silver grey faux sheepskin boots.
“Oh fantastic,” I exclaimed holding my face in my hands. “You’ve got these. They are the height of fashion. All the girls at ballet wear them,” I continued.
“Daddy bought those, too. I’ve never worn them.”
“Never? What is wrong with you?” I asked.
Harriet suggested I tried them on and, once on me, there was no way I wanted to give them back. I have to say I looked fantastic. They went perfectly with the grey top with sparkly stripes and even the blue jeans worked with this outfit. Mum and Mike thought so too and didn’t seem to be bothered that Harriet and I had sort of agreed to swap my old trainers for her boots. I thought Mike would be bound to put up a fuss. Not quite a fair exchange after all.
I had quite a collection of Harriet’s tops by this time. Apart from the visit to the cinema I had never worm any out but, at ballet, when everyone arrived or just after we got changed the girls would admire each other’s clothes. Previously, I hadn’t joined in this sort of talk. I got changed in another room, being the only boy, but I usually heard what they were saying when we left the dance school. And I had opinions I wanted to share. When they said that Rachel’s pink top was lovely I wanted to say that her yellow top suited her better. And I wanted them to know what taste I had. I decided it wouldn’t hurt to wear something which would show them I knew a thing or two about fashion. I didn’t know what mum would say but the next time I got ready for ballet I put on jeans, my silver grey boots and the grey vest with purple and silver stripes. I did look a bit like I was heading off to the disco but I liked the look, and I wanted to make a splash. Mum didn’t say anything when I grabbed my dance gear and she drove me to class as normal.
“Have a good time,” she said as she dropped me off.
I felt really good. I knew I looked special but I didn’t want to show off. It was a shame that, almost as soon as we arrive, everyone gets changed. There was time to make a splash, though.
As soon as the girls saw me, they jumped up and down with excitement. I had so many compliments. Only Joanne, who was usually my partner as she was the best, was a bit cool.
“Why are you dressed like that?” she asked with disdain.
“Don’t be mean,” some of the others said.
“But he’s wearing girls’ boots,” she went on.
“Some boys wear boots too, I’ve seen them,” someone chipped in on my behalf.
“And that top isn’t very macho,” Joanne said, determined not to let matters drop.
“Leave him alone,” a voice countered.
“He has such style,” another voice said. I loved that one. In fact, even though Joanne wasn’t particularly nice I didn’t have to say much. Everyone else was leaping to my defence. I even picked up some tips.
“You know what you need to set that off,” Catrin said. “A silver necklace.” Of course! As soon as she said it I could see it was obvious, what with the neckline and everything, but I hadn’t given it any thought before. I think we were making too much fuss because our teacher came along and was quite cross that we weren’t yet changed. She glanced over my clothes but said nothing other than, “You will be joining us today, will you, Oliver?”
When I got changed I was a bit disappointed that I once again looked like a boy. Funny thing was that I got so much abuse at school for being a sissy just because I danced and wore tights and white T shirt but, once changed, I looked at myself and thought, this is nothing at all like a girl. The girls all wore a completely different costume. Just shows you how ignorant the boys at my school are.
After class the girls, except for Joanne, were around me again being encouraging and making me feel good about myself. I decided I would act on their advice and ask for a necklace. As we were leaving Joanne shot a comment across the group.
“Better get your haircut or everyone will think you really are a girl.”
“Stop being so catty,” Catrin said on my behalf and I ignored her just glaring at her as I went. I brushed the hair out of my eyes, though, because she was right, my hair was getting long. I quite liked it.
In the car I asked mum if I could have a necklace. I tried to make the request sound normal but I know my voice was giving me away. So I was relieved when mum said, “Why of course darling. We’ll choose one at the weekend shall we?” That was easy.
“But, I have a condition,” mum said, glancing across at me. I looked up, interested. “You have to start calling me, ‘mummy’.”
I thought about it. I hadn’t called her mummy for so long. I used to when I was much younger but now I felt a bit too old for that. On the other hand I wanted that necklace.
“Okay,” I replied.
“Okay, mummy,” mummy said.
“Okay, mummy” I laughed back. So from then on mummy it was. And by the weekend I was the proud owner of a silver necklace with a heart design on the end of the chain. I chose it but mummy said it was just the right one for me and I was clever for choosing it. I wore it later but without another top with a low neckline I was a bit disappointed that it was covered up. Mummy insisted that we bought some new clothes afterwards which I didn’t really want to do. I had gathered more than enough clothes recently by swapping with Harriet. Mum picked up another skater top- a boy holding a skateboard all over the front of it and he was slouched in that way that boys have sometimes. I didn’t really want it and, anyway, how would that show off my new necklace? But as we were leaving the shop I noticed some pink All Stars. Now they would be worth having. Mummy saw me looking and said, “Okay, but you need to pay out of your pocket money. You are getting expensive to keep!” She smiled as she said it so she wasn’t cross or anything which is just as well. Shame about that sweatshirt she bought, though. She could have save some money on that. When Mike and Harriet came round I prayed that she would be wearing something to swap that would show my new jewellery to good effect.
Well, she turned up wearing a top to die for. It was black with sequins in a stripe diagonally across the front. I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. I practically ripped it off her. She, meanwhile, was in a foul mood.
“I don’t know what has got into my dad, recently,” she said. “He’s always gone on at me to wear clothes I don’t like but in the last few months he keeps buying me more and more inappropriate ones.”
“Lets swap,” I said, eager to get changed but Harriet wasn’t finished.
“I told him he was wasting his time because we would swap anyway but he keeps on buying me new stuff I don’t want.”
“Lets swap,” I said impatiently.
“And in the car on the way over he said it was okay to stop calling him ‘daddy’ because I obviously didn’t want to. ‘You’re right there, I said’. I don’t know what is up with him.”
Throughout this speech I waited impatiently for her to hand over the top. I thought she was making me wait on purpose because she then insisted we changed upstairs. Honestly, we had done this a thousand times before. I put on the sequined top and was amazed at how the electricity flowed through me again. It was sleeveless and had a low neckline which meant that Harriet got the full effect of my necklace. What was even better, it stretched over my jeans so made me look more rounded. I put on my boots and admired myself in the mirror. The whole effect was fantastic. I used to moan when the costumes for dance performances had sequins on them. I couldn’t think why I had made a fuss because this top really suited me.
I had spent so much time admiring myself that I had forgotten about Harriet. Mummy had given her the new skater boy top she bought me earlier.
“Honestly, I bought it but he won’t wear it so you have it,” she was saying. She turned to me. “You can’t wear boots in the house,” she said and left Harriet striding around the room showing off the new top and me changing into ballet flats. I don’t know why she got so excited about those clothes. I thought for the umpteenth time that it would be nice if she wore something other than jeans, although I have to admit that her ripped jeans did suit that top. Still, I seemed to be stuck with jeans with whatever top I had on. A change occasionally would be nice, I thought.
It was just about this time that mummy and me were travelling across London by tube. I was on my way to a dance audition and was really nervous. A girl got on with her mum at Edgware Road and sat opposite us. I noticed her candy pink hooded sweatshirt. It was really nice. Several girls at ballet wore ones like it. She had a short denim skirt and pink tights with those white tennis shoes that were fashionable. What a great outfit! And she was so elegant, held herself really well. I wondered if she was going to the same place as me, she had a dancer’s posture. Mummy noticed me looking at her and when I noticed mummy noticing me, she smiled, knowingly. I went red. Mummy couldn’t have known what I was looking at could she?
It seemed she could. A couple of days she presented me with an Arsenal football top. A football top! Me! I’d never worn one in my life. Never wanted to. Mummy got all stressy but I stuffed it away in a drawer. Later Harriet came round wearing a candy pink top just the same as the one I had admired.
“Wow,” I said when I saw it. “Are those hot right now?”
“Dunno,” Harriet replied. “Dad bought it for me but he knows I hate this sort of thing. And he made me wear it this evening even though we had a bit of a fight about it.”
“Know what you mean,” I said and explained how mum had reacted over the football shirt. Of course Harriet went crazy when she heard I had an Arsenal shirt and insisted I got it out.
“Can I wear it?” she asked.
“Wear it? You can have it. I’ll never want it.”
She took off her pink sweatshirt and changed into the Arsenal one immediately looking better, more comfortable and more like her old self. I put on the sweatshirt and was pleased by what I saw in the mirror. I brushed the hair out of my eyes to see better and wondered again why I hadn’t had my hair cut for so long. I thought about that girl on the tube and thought that pink tights would go so well with this top. I caught that thought as it came to me and went red. Harriet must have noticed because she asked me what was wrong.
“Nothing,” I said. She was concerned that I wasn’t happy with the swap.
“You know what would go well with that top?” she continued. She was worried I might want the Arsenal shirt back. “Your Converse All Stars, in pink.”
“No, white tennis shoes,” I shot back. Maybe a bit too quickly but, honestly, pink hi-tops with this? No way. In any case she seemed to relax. I thought about the tights again and wondered why I was thinking so much about girls’ clothes. At least, being a dancer, wearing tights wasn’t so unusual. But I had to admit that the skirt and the while tennis shoes set the whole thing off and made the outfit so special. I thought about the tartan skirt and blue tights mum had bought for ‘wrong clothes day’ and remembered how exposed I had felt when I met Mike and Harriet. Now, I just wished I had some gear that would go with the pink sweatshirt. My tartan skirt would clash.
When we were called downstairs for something to eat, I worried that mummy might make some point about the Arsenal shirt. Seeing Harriet wearing it might be too much given how stressy she got earlier.
I needn’t have worried. Both Mike and mummy admired us and Harriet, taken by surprise checked with her dad that he meant it.
“Suits you, Harry,” he said. I’d never heard him call her that before. Sounded strange.
Mummy smiled at me in my pink sweatshirt with my old jeans and red socks.
“Clashes a bit with the socks,” she said. I had to agree. “Why not look for something more suitable in your sock drawer?” she said looking at me with her reassuring smile.
I went upstairs to change because I had to agree with my mummy that candy pink and red is a bit of a nightmare combination. I thought I could hook out a pair of blue socks as the best I had, so was surprised, no shocked, no surprised, well shocked but in a good way to see a pair of pink tights in my drawer. Pink tights just like that girl had worn.
I could feel myself going red. Mummy had read my mind. She knew I had watched that girl so closely because I thought her clothes would suit me. I picked out the tights with their ‘Princess’ label. These were nothing like my black ballet tights. These were softer, real girl tights. I hesitated.
“Well, you don’t need me to help you. After all, you’ve worn tights a million times before.”
I turned to see mummy holding on to my bedroom door. I wanted to ask her why but no words came.
“Better hurry,” she went on. “Food is on the table in ten minutes.” She turned to go and then stopped. “By the way, the rest of the outfit is under your bed.” And there under my bed in a carrier bag was a denim skirt and a pair of bright white tennis shoes. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I did know that I wanted to change, so I did as quickly as possible and warm electricity flowed through me when I finally stood before the mirror. I prepared myself before I looked and when I did a ten year old girl stared back… so I smiled at her and my grin lasted all the way downstairs and all the way through dinner where no one mentioned that I was wearing a skirt and tights, no not even Harriet, and that felt good, too, because that felt normal. And it was wonderful.
End of Part One
I went to my drawer and pulled out the navy blue tights. I put them on and then put my school trousers back on top. At least that way I would know part of me was a girl, even if no one else knew. Yes, I know. I was asking for trouble. And I got it!
PART TWO
Six months was the longest mummy had had a boyfriend in years. Mike could be moody sometimes but then there were occasions when he had been really nice to me… well completely different, actually. It was as if every time they arrived he was in a bad mood but after we had been upstairs playing for a while he softened. Maybe seeing mum cheered him up. Once I remember they arrived and because I had gone straight to ballet from school I was still wearing my school uniform. Mike didn’t even reply when I said hello. The way he looked me up and down told me he was in a bad mood. But, later, after we had left them alone for a bit he was completely different. I had swapped tops with Harriet as usual. She brought along the red top with a girl, half devil and half angel. I had admired it last time at her house. It was a toss up between that and the silver top I came away with. Anyway, I was wearing the top and just knew it would work really well with the tartan skirt I had when we first met. I went and changed, putting on the blue tights as well. Harriet didn’t bat an eyelid when I returned. I thought she could at least say if I looked good or not. But that didn’t matter because as soon as I went to get something from downstairs Mike grabbed me, swung me through the air and told me how great I looked. I was taken by surprise, I can tell you. But, see what I mean? He could be like that. So moody to begin with and then he sort of warmed up and became as friendly as anything.
I hadn’t had a haircut since mummy met Mike. I didn’t really want one either. I liked my longer hair. Mummy always said blond hair should be long but being a dancer it had to be out of my eyes. Our teacher was very strict about that, so I had always had short hair… until now. It had covered my ears and was close to my shoulders but it looked so untidy. I liked the length but hated how untidy it was. Trouble was, if I mentioned a haircut I might end up with short hair again and I didn’t want that, so I kept quiet and mum didn’t mention it either. The subject came up when my dance teacher pulled mum aside and had a quiet word. When we were in the car I discovered that it had been about my hair.
“Seems like we should get it cut,” mum said, not too happy.
“No!” I said, too quickly, too loudly.
“Oh sweetie, I love it long too,” mummy said. “But she is right. In your eyes is no good for dancing.”
My heart sank. I didn’t want to go back to my old style. Mummy could see I was upset.
“Let’s get it tidied up at least, and take some advice on how best to grow it so it doesn’t get in your eyes,” she said at last.
I knew I could rely on her. She glanced at me as she drove and smiled. Something was on her mind.
“And we could get your ears pierced at the same time,” she said, quietly.
I looked at her. Had I heard her correctly?
“If you would like,” she continued, testing the water. I didn’t know what to say. I worried that if I sounded too keen she would think there was something wrong with me. On the other hand this opportunity might not come again.
“If you insist,” I said back, quietly. Mummy went to respond but then didn’t and smiled at me instead.
So it was that I had my hair cut, just a little to give it shape, and my ears pierced. The young girl who pierced them looked at me in my school uniform, tie and everything, but with longish blond hair and was obviously trying to work out if I was a girl or boy. I knew I wasn’t boy-like, well not like the other boys in my class who were all bigger and tougher than me. But neither was I a girl. I sat in her chair wishing I had thought to wear my other clothes, my pink top for instance. But I didn’t wear them out or anything. Not so anyone could see me.
“Whose idea was it to get your ears pierced?” she asked, obviously hoping information would help her work it out.
“My mummy’s.”
“They will certainly make you look pretty.” She prodded some more, “You’ll have all the boys after you.”
She might be right, I reflected, but not in the way she thought. She fired her little gun twice.
“Not many boys want two earrings,” she continued hoping for a reaction. Nothing.
“Of course, all the girls do.” She held up the mirror and I saw my new face, one that was both opened up by my new hairstyle and decorated with two gold studs. I was simultaneously delighted with my new look and full of dread. What would they make of these at school? And what would they make of a hair style which was cut to make my face look more rounded. At least the hair covered my earrings. If I were careful no one would see them at school.
When we got home Mike and Harriet were there. They were coming most evenings now as well as weekends, so it was no surprise. What was surprising, though, was that Harriet had been to the hairdressers as well. But her hair was now short. I mean short like mine used to be. Much shorter than most girls. I didn’t like to say anything but she looked a bit too boyish.
“Dad said I could have the style I wanted,” she said proudly.
“I think it suits you, Harry,” Mike said. He was in a good mood obviously.
“Its much shorter than yours,” Harriet said, pleased. “And dad took me shopping afterwards.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so said nothing. Mummy told me to show off my new look and when I didn’t respond she came behind me and lifted my hair to reveal my ears. Harriet didn’t look too jealous.
“Glad I didn’t have it done,” she said. Mike beamed. He was impressed.
“Suits you, Ollie,” he said. “You look lovely. Really pretty”
“That’s what I told her,” mummy said as Harriet grabbed me taking me upstairs to show off her new stuff; boots which I thought made her look like a thug, but I didn’t say so, and a denim jacket that was the sort of thing I wouldn’t be seen dead in. She really did look quite tough, but I didn’t like to say anything.
Harriet was keen that I told her about the ear piercing. “Did it hurt?”
I answered everything she wanted to know, tried to reassure her that it wouldn’t be painful but she thought it wasn’t for her. Something was nagging away at me but I couldn’t think what it was. I was actually really pleased that I had lovely earrings but I was scared about the reaction at school. I just hoped that I could get away with no one noticing.
“I hope I don’t get aggro at school,” I said.
“Better not,” Harriet replied making me realise I’d voiced my anxiety. “Or they’ll have me to answer to. I’ll protect you.”
Shame we didn’t go to the same school.
And then, when Mike suggested that we all went out to eat to sort of celebrate, what we were celebrating I wasn’t sure, we all agreed because it seemed like a fun thing to do.
“Get changed out of your uniform, Ollie,” mummy said, “and be ready in about ten minutes.”
I went upstairs thinking about the outfit I should wear. Apart from the girls at ballet, no one outside the house had seen me wearing what I thought of as my gorgeous clothes. And I knew that I wanted to look really good, really stylish when we went out this evening. But did I dare wear a skirt? What if someone from school saw me? I hesitated, undecided what to do for the best but when mummy called up to say we were definitely going in five minutes, ready or not. I agonised over the choice.
“Do you want people to look at you or not look at you?” a voice said from the doorway. It was Mike.
“Both” I replied. It was true. I wanted people to see how I was dressed and notice me but then I wanted to, I don’t know, get away with it. Know I would be safe and not abused.
“Why not stop thinking about other people and dress as the person you want to be!” Mike said. I looked at him. He smiled at me. I smiled back.
So, I went out that evening wearing my pink top, denim skirt with navy blue tights and my new pink All Stars to finish off the look. I could mix and match! I went downstairs, where Harry was getting impatient and acting all big in his gear, waiting to see if I surprised, or shocked, mummy or Mike but they smiled as if this was perfectly natural. Just as we were going out the door, mummy said, “hang on a minute” and raced upstairs. Harry groaned at the latest delay but then mummy returned, hair brush in hand, and proceeded to brush and pull my hair into a ponytail. I had no idea she even had hair bands. “To show off your pretty ears,” she said to me.
“Can we go, now?” Harry moaned. Honestly, he can be so unreasonable.
I didn’t feel comfortable the whole time, but mostly I knew I had made the right choice. Nobody at the restaurant gave me odd looks or shouted abuse. Mike noticed me looking around a lot. “Relax,” he said. “You look like you are hiding something.” I was. If anyone found out I was for it. “Do you wish you’d chosen something else to wear?” Mike asked.
“No,” I replied and I meant it, so I did relax a little and every time I moved my legs I was reminded I was wearing tights, such a lovely feeling.
Mum and Mike looked at each other across the table; it felt like some sort of signal which it was because Mike said they had a big announcement.
“We think the time has come…” Mike began,
“…to all live together as a family,” mummy finished. They both looked a bit anxious but Harry and I were delighted.
We were all going to live together! You won’t believe the excitement this caused. Everyone was thrilled. I turned and hugged Harry who tried to force me off but I could tell he was pleased too. I hugged mummy and I hugged Mike.
“A few changes are needed, first,” mummy continued. “We need to decorate some bedrooms. Harry will have your room Ollie and you will move into the spare room.”
I wasn’t so keen on that idea. My bedroom was bigger than the spare room and it didn’t seem fair to have to move out but I kept it to myself because I didn’t want to make a fuss and spoil the moment. I thought I would tackle it later, with mummy when we were alone.
That night in bed I thought back over the day. I couldn’t help playing with my earlobes. It felt so strange but wonderful and once again I had that warm glow as the electricity passed through me. I wondered if anyone would agree with Mike and think I was pretty. I thought about Harry saying he would protect me and I quite liked that idea. Maybe we would be able to go to the same school, after all. Maybe mummy and Mike would want us to be together more and he would be able to… I stopped. I realised what had been nagging away at me, under the surface, all evening. Mum had referred to me as ‘her’. “That’s what I told her,” she had said earlier. Her! Meaning me. And I had thought of Harry as ‘he’. A simple truth hit me: Harry was a better boy than I was… and…and this was the big one… I was a better girl than Harry. What’s more, mummy and Mike knew it too. And this revelation was… was… really quite wonderful! I didn’t know what would happen next but the thought of having a new brother kept me warm as I drifted off to sleep, especially as l was the new sister!
I had lovely dreams that night but the next day dawned with me dreading school. I wanted to talk to mummy about when she called me ‘her’ when talking about me but I didn’t know how to bring the subject up and I started to worry that I had maybe misheard. How embarrassing would that be? In any case, the idea of facing the boys at school was enough to keep me occupied. I put on my uniform and tied my tie and looked in the mirror as I brushed my hair. Someone who was not really a boy and not really a girl, looked back.
That day at school I got such abuse when they saw my hair they must have thought it was Christmas.
“Look at our fairy dancer!” yelled one.
“She’s had her hair done,” another joined in. I ignored them. My attitude had changed. I didn’t flinch every time I was called she. Neither did I worry what they thought of me. Years of taking abuse for being a dancer had made me strong. A few comments about my hairstyle hurt but I got through the day without any more trouble than I usually had. And there were more good things than normal. Catrin, the girl from my ballet class, told me my new style suited me and said I was stylish, even in my school uniform. And my teacher, Mr Harvey, stopped me in the corridor at lunchtime to say I looked happier. I stared at him. What did he mean? I didn’t really like school, too much aggravation, but I did well in lessons and worked hard. I got used to not being Mr Popular but I didn’t give much thought to whether or not I was happy.
“Thanks,” I said, because I didn’t know what else to say to that.
“Are you?” he asked.
“What?
“Happier.”
“Why did you ask?” Teachers can be confusing sometimes.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he continued. “I’d say you seem more at ease with yourself.” He smiled. I obviously still looked bemused so he continued. “You look more like you know who you are and what you want out of life. That’s what I have always liked about you. You are someone who doesn’t let what other people think get in the way. That takes guts.” And then he walked off down the corridor. Eventually, I smiled. He had paid me a compliment after all.
I got through the whole day with nobody discovering my pierced ears. I was so conscious of being exposed I stayed away from everyone else at playtime and lunchtime. I didn’t even hang out with the girls as I normally did. Funny that, at home, I was so proud of my new earrings and kept looking in the mirror to see how I looked wearing them.
At home, decorating had been in full swing all day and they were ready for the big moment. They certainly didn’t waste any time! Harry and I were told to wait until everything was ready and then summoned for the dramatic unveiling. Harry nearly burst a blood vessel he was so excited. One bed had Manchester United duvet and pillow covers with a matching lamp shade. The wallpaper had a pattern of soccer players right across the wall with a Manchester United team poster. Every last thing had a football on it or a soccer player kicking a ball into outer space- very boring. You can safely say that Harry loved it. It didn’t look anything like my old room and I have to say that I felt a little bit strange because coming back in felt like I was a stranger in my own place. Except that it was Harry’s room now and I really shouldn’t be selfish.
Next day at school, I hoped my luck would hold out but whereas the day before I had kept my wits about me and had been careful about keeping my ears covered, I just forgot. Maybe the effort was too much. Not only that but, as I woke up that morning, I knew I’d rather be a girl. I kept saying it to myself, over and over under my breath as I was getting ready for school.
“I’d rather be a girl.”
“What’s that?” Harry asked as he came back in the room.
“Nothing,” I mumbled. I was not ready to say it out loud, yet. But then I wasn’t ready to let go of the feeling I had when I dressed in the lovely clothes and, I know I shouldn’t have done it and I know I should have checked with mum but I wanted to feel more like a girl at school even though I also wanted to avoid trouble. Why couldn’t they just let me be who I was? Anyway, I went to my drawer and pulled out the navy blue tights. I put them on and then put my school trousers back on top. At least that way I would know part of me was a girl, even if no one else knew. Yes, I know. I was asking for trouble.
“Look at this everyone, she’s had her ear pierced!” The shout carried to all parts of the playground and a whole gang of boys came running. I had only brushed the hair behind my ears without thinking. Immediately, a passing thug noticed and yelled for the fun to start. While he held me, his friend, name very unimportant, theatrically lifted my hair with his finger to reveal my earring. I would have got away with it except that someone joked that, being a girl, I would have had both ears pierced. My heart sank, further. He lifted my hair on the other side with the same exaggerated gesture and then couldn’t contain himself when he realised he was right. They nearly wet themselves laughing and dancing about.
“You need a pony tail,” Callum laughed, pulling my hair really tightly behind me. “You need to show off your beautiful ears.”
The way he grabbed my hair into a ponytail really hurt but I pulled myself free and they let me go. I walked off with just about the whole school laughing at me. I would never live it down, I thought as I rushed away.
I didn’t cry. Not then. I was crushed inside but desperate not to let it show. And I had a lot of attention from girls who wanted to check I was okay. I was relieved to have their support even though I knew it would only make things worse. It did. At the end of playtime, I needed the loo desperately. I tried to avoid the toilets at school- a bully’s paradise at the best of times. I decided the best course of action was to wait until the boys were heading back to class and then sneak in. Getting told off for being late in class was far better than trying to negotiate the bullies who hung out there.
“What you doing in here?” greeted me as I entered. “Girls aren’t allowed in here,” the voice continued. It was Callum. I tried to ignore him.
“Cover yourselves up, boys,” he continued. “Don’t let her see.”
“She fancies you,” a voice from behind me said. I just wanted to pee and get out of there. I went in a cubicle and tried to block out their voices. There must have been about four of them altogether. When you spend your time keeping your head down you miss essential details, like how many are ganging up.
‘I wish Harry was here,’ I said to myself. And I thought again about how much I wanted to be a girl. I would never have to come back in here again. I would be safe.
“Oh no!” came the mock shrieks of panic. “There’s a girl in the boys’ loo!”
I finished and hesitated about going back to face them. Weren’t they late for lessons? Didn’t they care? I thought I would wait until they were bored. I waited and waited but I could still hear them outside. Then I thought, I’d better make it look as if I was still busy, maybe then they would get bored and leave me alone. So I did. I dropped my trousers and sat on the loo seat. What a fool, I was!
“He’s wearing tights!” Callum’s yell would surely have been heard across the whole school. He had climbed up in the cubicle next door to look over and, of course, I was sitting there with my tights up but my trousers around my ankles.
I was in a panic. Bright red and with tears in my eyes, I opened the door to rush out. I couldn’t. They grabbed me as I tried to push through. There were hands all over me and they had my shoes and trousers off before I could even think about putting up a fight. Then, wearing just tights and a shirt they pushed me out into the corridor where all the classrooms with internal windows had a clear view of me and my predicament. I cried. Finally, I gave in and cried. I curled up on the floor, against the wall and cried my eyes out.
There was a hand on my shoulder and a soft voice.
“Hey,” it said.
It sounded so gentle I found myself saying, “It is too hard to be a boy.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think,” the voice said. “I’m really sorry.” I looked up and couldn’t believe that the voice belonged to Callum. He was the one with the kind, gentle voice. I cried some more. He looked shocked that he had reduced me to this state. Then, he did something so surprising. He hugged me and shouted at his friends to bring me my trousers.
And so it was that I was helped to the headteacher’s office by the very person who had been so horrible. Callum confessed everything and sounded really sorry. He didn’t try to play down his part. He gave a complete picture of the things he had said going back over months. I would have been impressed if I wasn’t so upset. I don’t know how long I stayed in and around the office. I do know that when Mike and mummy came I was so relieved and, even though I had to wait while they had a long meeting with the headteacher, I was pleased when they took me home.
Home to my new room. They had both taken time off work to re-decorate the spare room for me. It was a girl’s paradise.
“It isn’t finished yet,” Mike said apologetically. “We had to down tools to get the school when we got the phone call.”
I looked around at the dusky pink walls and the white and pink curtains. The décor was everything a girl would dream of so I cried again. I didn’t think there were any more tears left but they kept on coming.
”I’m not very good at being a boy,” I said between sobs. Mike left the room and mummy hugged me and then started to undress me. She was talking very quietly as she undid the buttons on my shirt and soothed me as she helped me take off my trousers and tights. When I was undressed she wrapped a new dressing gown around me. It was pink and white striped and went perfectly with the room. As I controlled my tears mummy ran a bath and said, “everything will be alright.”
After the bath mummy helped me dry myself, something she hadn’t done for years. Then she told me to lift my arms and she dropped a new nightdress over me and handed over some fluffy slippers.
“Are they Harry’s?” I asked.
Mummy laughed. “Could you see Harry wearing these?” No. I couldn’t.
“He wouldn’t be seen dead in these.” I laughed.
“Course not. They are designed for a lovely little girl and they suit you perfectly,” mum said hugging me close again. I started to feel better. I thought that being ready for bed in the middle of the day felt a bit peculiar. Then I thought how strange it was that I thought being ready for bed was more peculiar than being dressed in girls’ nightwear. I really was turning into a girl. And what was more, I wanted to.