There have been a lot of stories that tell how boys learn to become better people by being sent to a "special" school. There are some things about those kinds of stories I didn't like much, so I decided to create my own version of this particular sub-genre. Enjoy!

Madam Martinique's Finishing School

Copyright 2007 by Heather Rose Brown
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"Discipline. Respect. Honesty." The head mistress's riding crop snapped sharply as it hit each word on the marble plaque behind her desk. Her eyes seemed hard as diamonds as she turned to look at my mother. "Those are the three pillars upon which our school are based."

"I ... I mean ... umm. ..." Hearing Mother stutter and seeing her squirm in the hard, wooden chair next to mine made me smile. It was a small victory, but it was nice to hear her at a loss for words after the speech she had given me on the way to this so called 'school'.

"And what are you finding so amusing?" As uncomfortable as my seat was, I was really glad I was sitting just then, because my knees went all wobbly when the Madam Martinique glared at me.

"Erm ... nothin'." I stared at the floor, looking for the tiniest hole so I could slip into it and disappear.

" 'Nothing' what?"

"Nothin' ... Ma'm?"

The head mistress sighed. "I suppose that will do for now, but I see some lessons in grammar and pronunciation in your future." I know this probably sounds impossible, but I could actually feel her eyes lift off me and I looked up again to see her turn to my mother. "But, getting back to my original point, are those three principles something you would like your child to learn?"

Mother seemed to have managed to pull herself together and there was no stuttering this time as she answered. "Yes. Those are exactly the things Willamina needs to learn." For the first time since this morning when she had announced there were going to be some major changes in my life, which wound up including me wearing my sister's dress, there was a sadness in her voice. "They're things I haven't been able to teach her."

Madam Martinique's voice softened. "That is why you need to sign those papers. Without full custody, we cannot fully implement our program."

"It does seem extreme." The hardness was back in Mother's voice. "But with all the trouble my s-- daughter has been getting into since her father died, I suppose extreme measures are called for."

The head mistress seemed to float down as she sat in her huge leather chair. "I understand your position. Most parents have run out of options by the time they come to us." She looked through the stack of forms lying in front of her, then turned them around and slid them across the desk towards my mother. "I can assure you, you made the right choice by coming to our school."

I felt the tiniest bit of hope when Mother stared at the paper on top of the stack for a few seconds. When she picked up the pen and started signing, my heart dropped into my stomach. My own mother was handing me over to strangers who would do ... I really didn't know exactly what. I wanted to stand up and scream at her, but I was too numb. All hope, all life just drained out of me as I listened to the pen scritching across bright white sheets of paper filled with tiny print.

As my mother signed the last page, Madam Martinique pressed one of a long row of buttons on her phone, then lifted up the handset and began speaking softly. "Jessica, would you come into my office? Mrs. Sundry is just about ready to leave and will need someone to guide her to the guest parking lot."

Mother looked up from the pile of forms, mouth hanging open in shock. "Do I have to leave so soon? I haven't even had a chance to say goodbye."

The head mistress gently took the stack of papers from Mother's loose grip. "We usually find it best to keep partings very brief. Otherwise, emotional outbursts can --"

I didn't hear the rest of what she said as my mother turned to me and touched my cheek. "I'm so sorry things have to be like this. I hope ... someday you will be able to understand and forgive me."

The shock that had been holding me down was burned away by white hot rage. "Forgive? FORGIVE?! What's there to forgive?" I jumped up, knocking my chair over backwards. "You just dressed me up like some damn sissy and then handed me over to some 'school' that's gonna turn me into -- how the hell should I know?"

The sharp crack of Madam Martinique's riding crop smacking the top of her desk made me jump. "I will NOT tolerate such language!" Somehow, she seemed even bigger as she leaned over her desk. "Now, you will pick up your chair, sit down, and behave properly." Her gaze shifted to my now former mother. "You will need to leave now before things get out of hand."

I turned, faced the fallen chair, and squeezed my fists until my nails were cutting into my palms. "No!" I shouted as I kicked at it. I got a throbbing big toe for my efforts, but it felt good to see the chair tumbling across the room. I swung around on my good foot until I was facing the head mistress. "You ain't my mother. I ain't gotta do what you tell me." I turned on Mother. "You gave up being my mother, so I ain't gotta do what you tell me neither! And ... and, I'm leaving this hell hole!"

I half ran and half hobbled towards a pair of heavy wood doors. Just as I reached for the handle, one of the doors swung open and a girl about a head taller than me entered. Hoping to catch her by surprise, I ducked and tried slipping between her and the open doorway. She was faster than I expected and grabbed me around the waist, pinning my arms to my sides in the process. "Where do you think you're running off to, young lady?"

The laughter in her voice just made me madder. "Let me go! Let me GO!"

Just as I was starting get an arm loose, Madam Martinique took me off the girl and managed to hold me more tightly, then surprised me by swinging my legs off the ground. With the way she was holding me, all I could move were my feet, so I began kicking for all I was worth. Right about then, the tears I'd been trying to hold back began pouring, and I started crying and screaming.

Over my screams I heard the head mistress shout, "Thank you, Jessica. Could remove our newest students shoes, then lead Mrs. Sundry out? That would help a lot." I felt my legs held in a tight grip, and in a few seconds I was shoeless.

As Jessica led my former mother out of the room, an older woman in a white uniform stepped in. "I heard the shouting and thought you could use some help."

Madam Martinique pulled my leg back in just when I was starting to wriggle it loose. "Yes, things got a bit out of hand near the end of the interview."

"I see. Should I administer a sedative?"

"Yes, I think that would be best."

When I saw the needle, I pretty much freaked out and started screaming at the top of my lungs. "Help! Help! HELLLLLP!" I tried harder to get loose, but I could still barely move. Something was rubbed on my arm, leaving a cool spot that ached a moment later when it was pricked with something. I was already exhausted from struggling; whatever was in the needle made me even more tired. Just as my eyes started to droop, I felt lips brush against my forehead and heard the head mistress whisper, "Everything will be okay. I promise."

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When I was able to open my eyes again and get them to focus, I saw Madam Martinique sitting straight and tall in a chair at the foot of my bed. She looked up from a thick paperback and gave me a tiny smile. "Good afternoon. How do you feel?"

I tried sitting up, but the room started spinning when I lifted my head and I nearly lost what little breakfast I had managed to choke down this morning. "I feel like shit."

The head mistress frowned, but her smile didn't completely fade. "Considering you're a new student and haven't had the rules of acceptable conduct explained to you yet, I'll let the language go this time. However, in the future, you'll be expected to hold a civil tongue."

I tried sitting up again. Some of the anger I was feeling before came back and seemed to cut through the dizziness. "And how do you plan to make me do that? You gonna beat it into me?"

Some of the hardness left her gray eyes. "Were you beaten before?"

"I ... I mean ... what's it matter to you?"

Her shoulders drooped as if they had been carrying something too heavy for too long. "A disturbing number of students have. So, to answer your question, we do not use any form of corporal punishment at this school. We've found the harm far outweighs any potential benefits."

It took me a couple of seconds before I figured out what she meant by corporal punishment. "So, how do you get 'em to do stuff then?"

"By teaching discipline, respect, and honesty."

"Discipline? I thought you said nobody got beat here."

The head mistress slowly shook her head. "So many people seem to misunderstand that word. Discipline is the process by which one learns to behave in a socially acceptable manner. While punishment may be used to teach discipline, it is only one of many ways. As I said before, we do not use corporal punishment. When any other form of punishment is used, it will only be after you fully understand what is expected as well as the consequences."

I looked down at myself and realized I was still wearing a dress. "So you keep us in line by making us dress and act like girls?"

When I looked up, I saw her shaking her head again. "No, not any more. There was a time when that was practiced at this school, but it was found to cause severe emotional and even mental harm to many of our students, so it was discontinued."

I chewed on that new piece of information for a minute. "You mean, not all the boys were hurt by being dressed like girls?"

"An astute observation. At first, when we stopped forcing our students to dress like girls and provided clothing appropriate for boys, we discovered some of them had held onto and were still secretly wearing the old clothes."

"Why would they do that if they could get to wear boy clothes again?"

"When we found out about it, we asked them, and discovered some of them simply liked dressing like girls, while others identified as girls. That's when we decided to allow our students to wear what they wish, so long as it is clean, modest, and appropriate for whatever activity and weather conditions in which they might find themselves." She carefully laid her book on the ground and folder her hands in her lap. "Knowing that, do you have a clothing preference?"

At first I almost blurted out a yes, but then I smoothed the skirt of my sister's dress over my thighs and thought about the first time I had worn it. It had been a few months after she had gone away to college when I found a box of the clothes she used to wear when she was my age, and decided to try the dress on. It didn't make me feel like a girl, but it did feel nice. In a way, it made me feel closer to the one person who seemed to really know me. "Will I hafta give away my sister's dress?"

Her soft chuckle seemed to fill the tiny room we were in with warmth. "Of course not, but you will eventually need something else to change into." She stood up and held out a hand. "If you follow me, I'll lead you to the commissary, and you can choose whatever you like."

I took her hand and nearly landed on my butt as I slid off the bed. She helped me get my footing and waited until the wooziness passed and I could stand on my own. I looked up and saw so many things in her face. She looked both stern and kind; she seemed friendly, but not mushy. I wasn't sure how much I really believed her and what she said about this school, but I decided to trust her enough to believe she would take me someplace to get clothes.

She led me out into a hall that was so quiet, it was almost eerie. I decided that if I was going to run away, it would probably be a good idea to have a change of clothes and get some idea where to find food. Setting escape plans to the back of my mind, I put on what I hoped looked like a friendly smile as I did my best to keep up with the fast pace set by Madam Martinique.

Well, I hadn't been planning on adding to Madam Martinique's Finishing School, but there were a number of people who seemed to be hoping for more, so I decided to give this story another go. In Part 2, our main character discovers why there seem to be as many girls as boys in an all-boys school and learns a bit more about what makes his new school unique.

Madam Martinique's Finishing School - Part 2
Copyright 2007 by Heather Rose Brown

Beams of afternoon sunlight slanted through the narrow windows built into the steel doors at the far end of the hall. Even though I could barely see the head mistress's shoes because her dark gray dress was so long, I could hear the heels of her shoes clicking on the polished floorboards as we walked towards the doors. Something told me the riding crop she carried should seem scary, but she held it more like a fairy godmother's wand rather than something you planned to smack someone with.

A cool breeze brought the sweet smell of fallen leaves as we walked out through the doors. Feeling my sisters skirt fluttering around my knees was a little odd, but not really in a bad way. I nearly jumped out of her shiny black shoes when a bell started clanging.

"Ack! We set off an alarm or somethin'?"

Madam Martinique shook her head and smiled. "No, that was just the end of class bell."

Once the bell was quiet, the ivy covered brick building we were walking towards seemed to vibrate with the sound of hundreds of muffled voices. A minute or so later, the doors closest to us swung open, and kids who looked around my age started pouring out. With everyone rushing to get out the doors, there was no way we could get in, so we stopped about ten feet away from the entrance. As I watched the crowd flow around and past us, I noticed something I hadn't been expecting.

I shouted to be heard over the noise all around us. "Do you let both boys and girls in this school?"

The head mistress shouted back. "That's not an easy question to answer." It wasn't as if everyone just got quiet when she shouted, but the noise did go down enough for her to continue in a more normal voice. "What I can say for certain is the parents of all our students believed they had boys who would be better if they were treated as girls."

I took a more careful look around. There seemed to be as many girls as there were boys. "You mean ... all these girls are really boys?"

A crowd had been growing around us as we talked, and a few of them giggled after I asked that question. One of the gigglers turned out to be a boy with long blond hair pulled back into a low ponytail. At least, he dressed like a boy and mostly looked like one, but the way he talked and acted seemed a little girlish.

Still giggling, he took a step towards Madam Martinique and asked, "Mind if I answer that question?"

The head mistress smiled at him as she slipped the riding crop into the long sleeve wrapped tightly around her forearm. There was a no-nonsense tone to her voice that was firm without being harsh. "You're welcome to share your insights, Tod. I trust you've been here long enough to explain things in a concise and mature fashion."

Tod's giggles faded at the word "mature", but there was still a grin stretched across his face as he turned to me. "There's some of us who identify as boys even when dressed like girls, but most of the girls are just that: girls."

I thought back to what my mother had told me this morning. "But ... I thought this was an all-boys school."

Tod's managed to hold onto his smile, but a bit of sadness crept into it. "Well, I'm pretty sure everyone going to school here were brought by parents who thought they had boys that needed to be turned into girls. What some of the parents didn't realize is they really had girls."

The more I thought through that explanation, the more confused I felt. "How could the parents not know they had girls?"

His forehead wrinkled up and he seemed to be deep in thought for a minute before he answered. "Some of us are ... transgendered."

"Trans-who-what-ered?"

"Ms. Shepherd will be able to explain it better when you take her class, but basically it mean some of the boys who come to this school like dressing or acting like girls, while others are boys one the outside, but feel like girls on the inside."

The idea of being transgendered hit a raw nerve. It was almost too much to take in. Madam Martinique seemed to notice how much that little piece of information had blown me away, and came to my rescue. "You did a very good job with your explanation, but I think it's about time I took our newest student to the commissary."

The sadness on Tod's face slipped away. "Oh wow! Is she the one you said was gonna be my roomie?"

I didn't think the head mistress could stand any straighter, but somehow, she did. "That's 'going to', not 'gonna', and ... well, I suppose I could let the rest go for now, except for the 'she' part. We haven't established any pronoun preference, or even a name for that matter." The strict school teacher was gone and there was a gentleness in Madam Martinique's smile as she looked to me. "Would you like to be known by the name your mother mentioned in the admission interview?"

I winced just thinking of the name. Willamina sounded so prissy and ... stupid! "Well, the name she gave is pretty close to William, which is my real name. I really don't like the name she made up for me this morning and my real name ... well, I only got called that when somebody was mad at me. I'd really like to be called Billie, if it's all the same."

The head mistress pulled a small notepad from a pocket in her skirt, flipped through pages of neat, tight handwriting, then dug a pencil from a pocket on the other side and began writing. A couple of second later she looked up and asked. "Would that be spelled B-i-l-l-y or B-i-l-l-i-e?"

I felt just a sliver of panic at having to make a choice. "Umm, would the second one be okay? That's the way I've always spelled it."

She nodded and wrote what seemed to be more than just my name. "Of course. It's your identity. Nobody gets to decide who you are but you. As far as your gender goes, would you prefer to be known as a boy, a girl, or some other identity?"

"Some other identity? What else is there besides boy or girl?"

Madam Martinique peeked over the top of her notepad. Her soft, grey eyes seemed to reach into the deepest parts of me. "There's many other ways one might choose to identify one's gender. Androgynous, meaning combining male and female to varying degrees, is one of the more popular. A-sexual, or avoiding identifying with either gender, is another popular alternative."

My brain felt like it was about to short out when I tried to make sense of that. "Errr ... would it be okay if I stuck with being a boy for now? It's the only thing I really know how to be."

She looked back down at the notepad and started writing again. "Of course. Just remember, this isn't going to be chiseled in stone. If you decide to change your mind later, that will be your choice to make." After taking a lot longer than I thought would be needed to write down "boy", she slipped the pad and pencil in a skirt pocket while looking up at Tod. "To answer your question, yes, Billie is going to be your room mate. Would you be available to help us carry his clothes back from the commissary?"

I'm pretty sure the top of his head would have fallen off if he managed to grin any wider. "Oh yeah, sure!"

The head mistress glanced at me. "Would you mind if she joined us?"

"She?" I was seriously feeling dizzy at that moment. "You mean Tod's a girl?"

Tod's chuckle was light and playful. "Yep! You can tell by looking at my tag."

I took a close look at what she was pointing to on the name tag pinned to her shirt. It was a tiny silver pin shaped like a circle attached to a plus sign. "Sorry, I don't know what that is."

"Don't worry. They're something else you'll learn about in Ms. Shepherd's class. This is a tag pin, and this one means I'm a girl."

"I know this is probably a stupid question, but how does a pin make you a girl?"

Madam Martinique rested a hand on my shoulder. "That's not a stupid question at all, dear. No honest question is stupid. The pins don't make anyone a boy or a girl. They just allow others to get a better idea of how you'd like to identify yourself. Does that answer your question?"

"I ... I guess it does. And no, I don't mind if she joins us." I turned to look at Tod and and found myself grinning as I realized I really meant what I said. Even though she was a boy who was a girl that dressed like a boy, all that confusing stuff didn't mean all that much. the really important part, that she seemed like a nice, friendly person, shone through everything else.

The head mistress patted my shoulder. "That's good to hear. I had a feeling the two of you would hit it off splendidly. Well, I think we've dallied enough here. Shall we move on before the commissary closes for the day?" Without waiting for an answer, she climbed the short flight of steps and held open one of the doors leading into the new building.

Without warning, Tod took my hand, then gave it a quick squeeze and smiled before letting go and bouncing up the steps. Feeling totally dazed with plans for escape crashing into growing curiosity about this school and the people in it, I somehow managed to make it up the steps without tripping or falling and followed my room mate (and maybe friend?) into the building.

In this chapter, Madam Martinique is called away to deal with an emergency, leaving Billie and Tod alone with whomever might be running the commissary. There we learn about Billies connection with his sister, how it leads (indirectly) to him being caught shoplifting, and see the beginnings of what may turn out to be his first crush.

Madam Martinique's Finishing School - Part 3
Copyright 2007 by Heather Rose Brown
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Watching the way Tod moved as she wove between kids running down the hall (then shifting to a fast walk when they looked up at the head mistress following behind me) and clots of other kids chatting in low murmurs, I felt amazed I could have ever thought she was a boy. She did dress like a boy, and if half of what I had learned about this school was true, she probably started off as a boy, but everything about the way she moved and acted said 'girl'.

About halfway down the hall, Tod took a sharp left through an open doorway. I'm not sure if it was because I wasn't used to running in my sister's shoes or if it was because the polished wood floor was too slick, but my feet slid out from under me when I tried making the same move. If it weren't for Madam Martinique being right behind me to catch me, I probably would have been hurting pretty bad.

As the head mistress helped me back onto my feet, Tod came back out into the hall, looking both worried and sheepish. "Oh god, I'm sorry for going so fast. You okay, Billie?"

I did my best to straighten out the skirt of my sisters dress until it hung down loosely around my knees again."Yeah, I'll be okay. I'm mostly more embarrassed than anything else."

Madam Martinique stood between us and gave us each a long, hard look. Her voice was stern, but there was something that sounded like worry behind it. "Now do you understand why you shouldn't run in the halls?"

Just as she seemed ready to settle into a long lecture, a muffled beeping interrupted her. She rooted through her skirt pockets, then pulled out a small, red box and turned it around a couple of times until she could find the right button to stop the beeping. As she watched text scrolling across the gray face on one of the sides of the box, her expression changed from annoyed, to confused, and then upset.

Tod gently touched the head mistress's elbow. "Ma'm, something bad happen?"

Madam Martinique dropped the box into her pocket as she looked up at Tod. "I certainly hope not, but it does appear as if I may be needed elsewhere." She turned to me and took both of my hands, then bent down until she was at the same eye level as me. "Billie, would you feel okay if I left you with Tod?"

"Yeah ... sure." It was hard keeping the disappointment out of my voice.

"Are you certain? It's okay to be honest about how you feel. If you'd like me to stay, I'll find someone else to take care of this situation."

It felt weird having someone worrying about leaving me alone. "Don't worry. I know ya got work ya gotta do. I'll be okay."

"Yes, I am a very busy woman, but it doesn't mean I won't be here for you. If you need me for any reason at all, just ask a staff member, and they'll page me. Do you understand?"

I seriously doubted she really meant the "any reason at all" part, but I nodded anyway to let her know I understood what she meant and smiled to show I appreciated the thought. She smiled back and then turned to Tod. "Would you mind acting as guide for Billie? I realize you not a senior student and this is a lot of responsibility, but. ..."

Whatever the head mistress was going to say next turned into sputtering as Tod reached up and hugged her around the neck. "Ma'm, you really worry too much. I ain't a senior, but I been here long enough to find my way around, and I know who to ask if we need help."

Madam Martinique got over her surprise and hugged the girl back. "You're as precious as you are precocious, child. I'm so proud of how much you've grown up since you first came here." The head mistress's pocket started beeping again. When she stood up, fished out the box, and read the message, there was just a hint of fear in her eyes. "Oh dear, I really need to take care of this." She looked back and forth between me and Tod. "Can I trust the two of you to be on your best behavior?" When we both nodded, she gave us a quick smile before turning and nearly breaking her own rule about running in the hall.

"Okay, let's get you some clothes." Tod smiled and waved at me to follow as she went back through the doors again. After carefully stepping over the spot where I'd just nearly fell, I slowly walked in behind her.

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A woman who seemed barely taller than either of us peeked at Tod over the long counter stretching across the room. "Oh my, aren't you looking handsome today." She gave me a sparkling smile as I walked up to the counter before looking back at the blushing girl. "And who's your pretty young friend?"

I knew I should have been mad at being called pretty, but the way she said it didn't sound like she was being mean or teasing. I wanted to explain to her I really was a boy, but for some reason I was barely able to look her in the eye, let alone talk.

Fortunately, Tod spoke up for me while I stared at the scuff marks on the worn tiles by my feet. "Oh this is Billie. He just got admitted today."

"Ah, the head mistress told me she would be bringing a new student in today. Did something happen to her?"

"Yeah, her pager went off and she had to go take care of some emergency."

"That ... that woman." Her sigh sounded frustrated and sad. "She really needs to learn to delegate better before she runs herself into the ground." The mood seemed to leave her as quickly as it came and her voice turned perky, but business like too. "But enough of that. Billie?"

I looked up when I heard my name. "Yes ma'm?"

"Honey, the head mistress may be okay being called that, since it's part of her title, but I'd really prefer if you'd call me Mary, or Maribelle if you're feeling formal." She waited for me to nod before going on. "So, are you just looking for school uniforms, or will you be needing a complete wardrobe?"

"Ummm ... I ain't sure. So far as I know, alls I got is this dress."

"I see." Her head dipped down and I didn't see her at all for a minute until she came through a gap at the far end of the counter. I started wondering if Mary had been standing up on something when she was on the other side, since when she got closer, I realized the top of her head barely reached my chin. Even though it shouldn't have made any difference, I felt a little less nervous, which was helped by seeing her friendly smile. "So, do you have a preference for dresses, or would you rather have slacks and shirts in your wardrobe?"

"Well, of course I don't wanna be wearing dresses."

Mary tilted her head to the side. "What do you mean by, 'of course'?"

"I mean ... you know ... boys don't wear dresses."

"Why don't they wear dresses?"

I stopped and wondered if she really didn't know something so obvious. "I dunno. It's just something everyone knows."

Mary sighed. "I understand there are usually certain expectations for the way boys and girls dress, but things are a little bit different at this school. Now, I realize the situation most students are in when they first arrive here, so if you'd like to exchange what you're wearing for something else, I'm sure there's plenty of other students who would love to be the new owner of such a pretty dress."

My fingers felt cold as I wrapped my arms around my waist. "No, they can't have it. It's mine! I mean, it's my sister's, but it's mine!"

Mary patted my arm. "It's okay, sweetheart. Nobody is going to try taking anything away from you. One thing I would suggest is, if you wish to hold onto that dress, or anything at else, don't put them in the dorm laundry hamper."

"Why's that?"

"Anything that goes in there gets laundered and brought back here to the commissary, where it's made available on a first come, first served basis. Any students who don't wish to have something coming here need wash them in the school laundry room."

I had almost no idea what went into washing clothes, but I did remember something my mother had said would happen to me when I'd joined this school. I could barely feel my fingers as they bunched up into fists. "You mean, like some sorta sissy maid?"

"There is *nothing* sissy about being a maid."

I took a step back from the suddenly angry woman. "I'm sorry. I. ..."

Mary went on as if I hadn't said anything. "Do you have *any* idea how hard a maid works, and what it's like coming home to do your own housework after doing someone else's, and ... and? ..." Mary closed her eyes and touched her forehead with her fingertips. "And, I'm overreacting." She dropped her hand with a heavy sigh, opened her eyes and pulled a smile back on her face. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. It's just, whenever I hear those words. ..."

Tod came up behind me and wrapped an arm across my shoulders. "I really should have warned him, but I completely forgot."

"Honey, you shouldn't have needed to warn him about anything." Mary turned to me looking embarrassed. "Can you forgive me?"

I really wasn't used to having an adult apologizing to me and couldn't think of anything to say, so I just nodded. That seemed enough to bring a smile back to Mary's face. "Thank you, Billie. So, getting back to the business at hand, do you have a clothing preference?"

"Well, of course I. ..."

"No, there is no 'of course' about it. There's just you and what you truly, honestly feel."

I opened my mouth to answer, then closed it again and tried to think through what she was asking me. "I really ain't sure what I feel."

Mary nodded. "Sometimes it can be difficult making sense of our own feelings. Let's try it in smaller steps. How do you feel about wearing that dress?"

"I dunno. Okay, I guess."

"That sounds like a start. Is there anything else you feel?"

"Well, I feel less lonely."

Mary's eyebrows popped up. "What about the dress makes you feel less lonely?"

"Well, this is my sister's dress. The first time I wore it was when I was missing her when she was at college. When I saw myself in the mirror, I saw my sister, but a younger version of her from when we used to play more. It wasn't the same as actually having her there, but just almost sorta seeing her reflection kinda helped."

"Hmmm." Mary held her chin with one hand and held up her elbow with the other. "So is it seeing yourself in her clothes that makes you feel like you're seeing your sister?"

"Well, that's part of it. I also look a lot like her," I tugged at a strand of hair hanging over my ear, "especially with this wig on."

Tod let go of my shoulder and walked around me until she was facing me and standing next to Mary. "Oh m'god, I'd never have guessed! That style really looks cute on ya."

I wrapped the silky strand around my finger, realized what that probably looked like, and dropped my hand. "Urmm ... thanks."

My room mate grinned. "You're welcome. So how much did it set ya back?"

"Errrmmm ... I dunno."

"Oh, did someone buy it for you?"

"Well, my mother did ... eventually."

"Whatcha mean, 'eventually'?"

I found myself staring at the floor again. "Well, she had to when I got caught shoplifting it."

Mary's voice went from cheerful to serious. "Have you stolen anything before?"

My throat felt too tight to speak, so I just nodded.

Mary lifted my chin until I was looking her in the eye. "Why did you steal the wig?"

"My friends dared me."

She tilted her head again. "So you just grabbed the first wig you saw and ran out of the store with it?"

"Well, not exactly. Mick and Donnie had dared me to try walking out of this one place wearing one of the wigs they had in the window. While they was keeping the store owner busy talkin' to her, I was supposed to put something on and walk out the door. I almost chickened out, but then I saw this one wig from the back. It reminded me of the way my sisters hair used to look when she'd give me rides on the back of her bike. When I put it on and saw myself in the mirror, it almost felt like I was lookin' back in time."

"Gah!" I turned to Tod, who was slowly shaking her head. "I can't believe you got in trouble for just trying something on."

"Actually, I probably wouldn't have if I'd remembered to take the wig off when I ran. When I saw the store owner in the mirror, I figured I was busted and took off. If I hadn't nearly knocked over the guard from the jewelry shop next door, I probably woulda got away too."

Mary touched my elbow. "So, are you saying you hadn't intended to take the wig, but were accused of stealing it anyway?"

I was really tempted to say yes, but somehow I couldn't get out the half-truth when I looked in her eyes. "At first, I was planning on just skipping the whole thing and put up with whatever names my friends decided to call me, but when I put this on, I felt like I just had to have it. I knew there was no way I'd be able to convince my mother to buy it for me, and I'd been trying to think of how I'd be able to get outta the store with it."

"I see." I couldn't make sense of the expression on Mary's face. Instead of being mad or disgusted, she just looked sad. After what felt like nearly forever, a smile peeked through the sadness as she reached over and took one of my hands. "Billie, if you ever feel like you need anything ... anything at all, all you need to do is ask me or one of the other staff members."

"Anything?"

Tod giggled as she took my other hand. "Well, they ain't exactly rich here, so they might not be able to buy you a new car or something like that. Just the same, when it comes to stuff ya need ... well, ya might be surprised at what they'll do to get it for ya."

It felt a little funny, but also kinda nice when she stood next to me, still holding my hand, as she turned to face Mary. "Y'know, I was just wonderin', ya think it'd be possible to get his sister's clothes brought here?"

Mary's grinned at Tod. "That sounds like an excellent idea! I'll have to talk to the head mistress about it. She could talk a camel into handing over it's hump when she has a mind to." She was still grinning as she turned to me. "If that would work for you, it would take care of your regular clothes, which would mean all we need to worry about now are your school uniforms. Would you like shirts and slacks or skirts and blouses?"

"Well, of--" I caught myself just as she raised an eyebrow. "I mean. ..." I felt a little lost trying to wade through choices I never had before. "I ... I dunno what I mean. I think I'd like to have my sisters clothes here." It felt scary admitting even that much, but nobody even blinked when I said it, so I scrambled to find something else to say. "So far as anything else goes, I really ain't sure."

Tod squeezed my hand and gave me a smile that made me feel warm and tingly all over. "Don't worry. It's okay to not be sure." She turned to Mary. "Why don'tcha get him the variety pack like ya did for me when I started?"

=-=-=

It was an hour later, after being measured in place I didn't realize there were names for and trying on way too many clothes, when Tod and I were walking together down an echoing, deserted hallway. She had school shirts, blouses, sweaters, vests and jackets draped across both of her shoulders. My arms were full of pants, skirts, pajamas, nightgowns, and underwear (which I decided to hide under the pajamas).

As we got close to the door, she ran a few steps in front of me, hit the bar that unlatched the lock with her hip and shoved the door open, then held it in place with her leg as she shifted over to let me pass. With the way the sun was low in the sky, it was just in the right place to make a halo around her head and turn her ponytail fluttering in the breeze a deep gold. It was just then I realized Mary had been right: Tod was handsome.

Tod gave me a lopsided grin. "Would ya come out here already? You'd think nobody ever held a door open for you before." While she was probably right, I decided to not say anything as I smiled and walked out the door. I had no idea where we were going just then ... not that it mattered. At that moment, I would have followed her anywhere.

In this chapter, Billie is faced with some hard choices. Will he continue wearing his sister's dress and put up with people assuming he's a girl? Will he wear some of the boy clothes he's gotten from the commissary? Is there a third option?   Madam Martinique's Finishing School Part Four Copyright 2007 by Heather Rose Brown =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

---

Part Four
 
Once I got my new school clothes put away in the space Tod had made for me in the closet and in the drawers of the dresser we shared, I flopped backwards onto the bed my new roommate said she wasn't using and closed my eyes. The mattress springs creaked and the bed shifted under Tod's weight as she sat down next to me. "Ummm, Billie?"

I opened my eyes, looked up at her, and tried to make sense of the odd looks she was giving me. "Yeah?"

She reached over her shoulder and pulled a strand of hair from her ponytail. "Would you mind if I gave you a bit of advice?"

I decided she mostly looked worried, so I smiled to try putting her at ease when I answered, "Sure."

"Well," she said, twirling the hair between her fingers for a moment before continuing, "when you're wearing skirts and dresses, you may wanna be careful how ya sit."

I lifted myself up until I was leaning back on my elbows. "Whatcha mean?"

"I mean, ya might wanna try keeping your knees together. With the way you're laying down with your legs dangling over the edge of the bed like that, anyone who walked in might be able to see your panties."

I could feel my face burning as I pulled my knees together. Just then, someone knocked on our door. I quickly sat up the rest of the way and Tod helped me adjust the skirt of my dress before she asked, "Who is it?"

"It's me, ya dope," someone answered through the door.

Tod smirked as she said, "Come in, Tracy."

The noisy chatter from the hall filled the bedroom for a minute when the door opened and a tall girl with long copper hair walked in, closing the door behind her. A huge smile stretched across her face when she saw me. "Hey there! You must be Tod's new roomie."

"I guess so," I answered, hoping my nervousness didn't show when I smiled back. I really wasn't used to talking to girls, unless you counted teasing them. I probably shouldn't have been nervous, since (if everything I'd heard about this school was true) she'd started off as a boy, but she still looked and acted like a girl.

While I was trying to sort through my confusion, she turned to my roommate with a small frown. "So, you gonna introduce us or what?"

Tod grinned as she stood up beside my bed. With a half-decent British accent, she said, "Billie, I'd like to introduce you to my good friend, Tracy. Tracy, allow me to introduce you to my new roommate, Billie."

Both girls broke into giggles when she finished. When Tracy was able to speak again, she said, "I wonder if Miss Joanquin knows how good you are at imitating her."

Tod snorted. "Oh, jeez. If she ever caught me at it, I'd probably wind up in detention with her ... again."

For some reason, this got them giggling even worse than before. They eventually calmed down again, but before I could ask what had been so funny, Tracy crossed the room in three long-legged steps until she was standing right in front of me.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when her arm shot out just a few inches from my face. It wasn't until I saw the way she was holding her hand that I realized what she was doing. After we shook hands, Tracy sat next to me and asked, "So, you girls just about ready for dinner?"

My mind was still spinning from all that had happened today, plus, I was feeling lost for words with a girl I'd just barely met sitting so close to me, so I was glad when Tod answered for both of us. "I think so. We just finished putting his school clothes away a couple minutes ago."

Tracy gave her a questioning look. Tod just nodded and smiled. When Tracy turned to me, her whole face was turning a deep pink. "I'm sorry. It's just I didn't see any tag pins, so I was kinda taking a guess, based on the way you were dressed."

I could feel my cheeks starting to warm again as I looked down at what I was wearing. "I see whatcha mean. This dress does kinda make me look like a girl."

"Well, it ain't just that. The way you got your hair styled don't really look like what most people expect on boys."

"Oh, that can be fixed pretty easy." Tod gasped, and Tracy's mouth dropped open when I yanked my wig off. I'd forgotten about all the bobby-pins my mother had used to hold it in place, so I hadn't been expecting it to hurt the way it did when I pulled it off. It wasn't actually all that bad, since it was over pretty quick, and was almost worth the surprised reactions I got. "Do I look more like a boy now?"

Tod pulled a couple of the bobby-pins from the top of my head that hadn't come off with the wig. "Well, your hair does look shorter."

I thought about what she said, then about what she didn't say. "But, it don't make me look like a boy, right?"

"No, not exactly." She reached out and brushed back the hair covering my eyes. "I don't know. Maybe ... yeah."

"So which is it?"

"That's not easy to say. There's some girls who wear their hair short and some boys who wear it long. The length by itself doesn't make someone look boyish or girlish."

Tracy started fluffing the back of my hair out with her fingers. "Ya know, if you brushed it out a little, your natural hair would look pretty ... ummm ... I mean, pretty nice."

Even though she'd caught herself, I still had a good idea of what she'd meant to say. "So ya don't think I look like a boy, neither?"

Tracy gave me a quick look up and down before she answered, "To be honest, it's hard to give a yes or no answer."

I sighed and looked down at myself again. I really couldn't blame anyone for the assumptions everyone was making. I bent over so I could see my legs. Puberty was taking it's good old time getting around to me, so there wasn't any noticeable hair on them yet and they weren't very muscular. Even I thought I looked like a girl, or at least my sister, when I wore her clothes. "I guess I aughta change out of this dress so people won't keep thinking I'm a girl."

Tod rested her hand on my shoulder until I sat up again. "If you want to change 'cause you don't like dresses, that's not a problem. So long as you wear some sort of school uniform while in class and don't go too crazy when you get to dress casual, you can pretty much wear what you want. Still, if it's just an issue of wanting people to know you're a boy, there's other ways of dealing with that."

"Like what?"

My roommate smiled, went over to the dresser and searched through the top drawer on her side, then came back carrying a small cardboard box. When she opened the lid and held it where I could see, I found what looked like a dozen or so tiny silver pins. "Are those your tag pins?" I asked.

Tod gave me a huge grin. "Good gir-- ummm ... good guess, Billie." I could tell she had caught herself, but I decided to keep my mouth shut, since I wasn't as interested in correcting her as in what she had to say. "I had a bad habit of losing them for a while, so I wound up with a bunch of spares." She picked out a pin similar to the one she was wearing on her name tag, but with an arrow attached to the circle instead of a plus sign. "This is the one you use to let people know you're a boy."

"So, that little thing will stop people from thinking I'm a girl?"

My roommate shook her head."They can't change what people think, but everyone here knows what the symbols mean, so people will refer to you as a boy and use words like 'he' and 'him' instead of 'she' and 'her'."

Someone rapped on the door and shouted, "Five minutes!"

"Who was that?" I asked when I heard the shout coming from farther away. I hadn't really heard enough to recognize the voice, but something about it seemed familiar.

"That was the head girl¹, Jessica." Tracy stood up and walked to the door. "We only got five minutes before dinner's ready. We better get going."

"Wait a minute. What's a 'head girl'?" It sounded like something I'd heard in a story² a while ago, but I was lost on the word's meaning.

"It's just a name for an older girl who gets to boss us around," Tod answered. Her frown made her look annoyed, but the way she was smirking made it look like she thought it was more funny than anything else. "So, would you like to use the tag pin, or would you rather get changed?"

"I guess we're in a rush, so I better just use the pin."

Tod glanced over her shoulder at her friend. "That girl's always in a rush when it comes to food, but I'm sure she can survive a couple of minutes while you change."

Tracy rolled her eyes and sighed. "I ain't that bad. Tod's right about one thing, though. I won't mind waiting for you if you want to change."

"Oh," I said when I realized the choices I had. Having grown up in a house where most of my choices were made for me, it wasn't easy working through what I really wanted. If it wasn't my parents or other adults telling me what to do, it'd be other kids who'd make my life hell if I didn't dress and act the "right" way.

I thought about my choices for a minute. On the one hand, my sister's dress was the only thing I had from home. Wearing it made me feel safe and warm, and not so lost in this new place. On the other hand, boys weren't weren't supposed to wear dresses. On the other hand ... I was running out of hands.

"I think I'll go with the pin."

Tod nodded as she set the box on the bed next to me. "Would you like me to attach it for you?"

"I'd appreciate that. I ain't got any idea where it's supposed to go."

She lifted my chin and fiddled with something around the neckline of my dress. "Usually, if you're not wearing a name tag, it'll go on the left side of your collar."

I felt like I'd crossed a line when I heard the backing for the pin snick in place. I was now officially a boy in a dress.

"Are you two done yet?" asked Tracy with just a hint of a whine.

Tod smoothed out my collar as she looked over her shoulder and said, "Yep, all done." She turned back to me with a wicked grin. "We better get her to the dining hall before she wastes away."

Tracy just groaned before opening the door. Tod took my hand, helped me stand up, and soon we were following our noses to my first meal at Madam Martinique's Finishing School.

---

¹ Even though this story takes place in the US, I've borrowed terms like head girl from the British education system.

² Just in case you were wondering, the story in question was the Harry Potter series by J. K. Rowling.

While things have been going better than expected for Billie, he's still planning on running away from this strange new school. Will he escape? How will his new friends react?

Madam Martinique's Finishing School - Part 5
Copyright 2008 by Heather Rose Brown
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Aimlessly poking at the remains of the beef and noodles left on my plastic tray, I scanned the huge dining hall. I had to raise my voice over the noisy chatter so Tod could understand me when I repeated my question. "Who's that?" I asked while pointing to a girl with the long black hair sitting at a table on the other side of the hall.

Tod swallowed the string beans she'd been chewing on before answering. "Oh, that's Jessica. She's the head girl who'd knocked on our door to let us know dinner was ready. Why'd ya ask?"

"She just looked familiar. I think she was there at the end of my interview this morning."

Tracy dropped her fork in her tray and gasped. "Ah, it's all makin' sense. So did she catch ya when you was tryin' to escape?"

"I wasn't trying to escape. I was just ... mad and wanted someplace to think a bit." I took a bite of my cold apple cobbler, trying to hide the guilt I felt at telling a half-truth.

"Well, when ya try again tonight, wear pants. Your dress is pretty, but it ain't too practical when you're on the run."

Tod patted my back as I coughed up the dessert I'd tried to inhale. Over my head she said to the other girl, "Y'know, you really got bad timing. Couldn't you have waited until sh-- ummm ... he had a chance to swallow his food?"

"I'm sorry," Tracy said as she gently touched my elbow. "You gonna be okay?"

I nodded when I was breathing normally again. "Yeah, I'm fine, but what made you think I was gonna try escaping?"

"Oh, most kids who do a runner usually try again pretty soon after."

"Well, I ain't plannin' anything like that." A cold bead of sweat dribbled down my spine when I told such a bold-faced lie, and I tried steering the conversation to something else. "So, how'd you know about Jessica bein' at my interview?"

"Well, when you was talkin' about her bein' familiar, it reminded me of the rumor that'd been goin' around 'bout a new kid who'd given her a solid kick in the ribs before she managed to pull off her ... I mean his ... I mean your shoes."

I thought back to this morning and vaguely remembered my foot slipping out of Madam Martinique's hold and hitting something soft but solid. "Oh god. I hadn't really thought ... I mean ... is she gonna be all right?"

"From what I've heard, she's a bit bruised, but nothing's broken or anything like that."

"Dang, I feel awful." What little dinner I'd managed to get down was starting to feel like a heavy lump in my stomach.

Tod patted my arm. "I'm sure she knows you didn't mean to hurt her. Still, if you're feelin' bad, an apology probably wouldn't hurt."

"That sounds like a good idea." Before I was able to get up the nerve to stand and walk over to Jessica, a pair of hands rested on my shoulders.

When I looked behind me to see who it was, I found the head mistress standing behind me. Although it disappeared too soon to be sure, I would have sworn she had been smiling just a moment ago. "I'm glad to hear your concern for the well-being of another student, but I think it might be better to do it someplace that's a little less noisy."

Feeling a bit overwhelmed with Madam Martinique standing right over me, all I could manage was a nod. While her expression didn't change, something in her eyes looked like approval ... maybe even pride?

Before I could really decide on what it was I'd seen, she looked across the dining hall and shouted over the chaotic din. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention?"

When the room had gotten quiet and everyone was looking at her, the head mistress continued in a more normal voice. "Thank you for your attention. As some of you may have noticed, we have a new student today."

She gently squeezed my shoulders and whispered in my ear. "Would you mind standing up for a moment and introducing yourself?"

My insides seemed to be trying to flip over as I shakily stood up. What felt like a million eyes stared at me from all corners of hall. Just as my knees started feeling too wobbly to hold me up, both Tod and Tracy took my hands. While it didn't take away all my fear, it did help. A grin stretch across my face when looked down and saw them smiling up at me.

"Hi everyone." I hated the way nervousness was making my voice squeak, but I'd never been able to do anything about it before, so I just pushed on. "My name's Billie Sundry." Everyone was still staring at me, so I figured they were expecting more. "Ermm ... I know I probably don't look it wearing a dress and all, but I'm really a boy ... I think."

I wasn't exactly sure how to take it when a few of the kids laughed or giggled. I'd expected my last comment to be taken as a joke, but even with the laughter, it felt as if the comment was being taken seriously. I couldn't decide if I felt good about that or not.

"Anyways, I've only been here a day and I ain't had any classes yet, so I don't really know what to think about this school." I glanced down at Tracy and Tod, who were still holding my hands. "But I've met some really nice people here, and I hope I get a chance to meet the rest of ya's too."

This got a pretty good round of applause, during which I flopped back down in my seat before my legs buckled under me.

=-=-=

With nothing besides the moonlight peeking through the curtains to light my way, I tiptoed from my bed to the wardrobe I shared with Tod. The door groaned as I slowly opened it, but the noise was nothing compared to the loud thump of my shoes when they fell from the top of the wardrobe.

I sighed with relief when I turned and saw my roommate's eyes were still closed and her breathing was slow and steady. Not wanting to press my luck any more, I just took the first heavy coat my hands found, picked up my shoes, and walked as quietly as I could to the bedroom door.

My heartbeat was thumping in my ears as I stepped out into the shadowy hallway. I'd been going back and forth for most of the night trying to decide what I should do. Even though I still hated my mother for leaving me here, she never had lied to me, and I wasn't willing to take a chance that what she'd told me about this place wasn't true.

I stifled a scream when someone tapped me on the back. I turned to find Tracy smiling at me. "I'm glad to see you took my advice."

"What advice?" I asked, hoping I sounded calmer than I felt.

"To wear pants when you run away tonight."

"I ain't running away. I was just ... looking for the bathroom."

"Uh huh. You usually carry your shoes and coat to the bathroom?"

"Maybe I do. What difference does it make to you?"

"Well, if you're just going to the bathroom, not a whole lot. On the other hand, if you're running away, I was hoping you wouldn't mind some company."

"Same here." I would have jumped out of my shoes, if I had been wearing them, when I heard Tod's voice behind me. I turned and saw the silhouette of my friend in the doorway. "I thought you were asleep."

"How could I sleep worrying about my friend being out at night all alone?"

"I hadn't thought of that. I'm sorry for worrying you."

"It's okay." Before I had a chance to react, Tod took my shoes and coat, dropped the shoes in front of me, then handed the coat to Tracy.

"What are you doing?" I asked as Tracy pulled my arm through a coat sleeve.

"Just helping ya get ready to go outside," she answered. "Why don't you slip into your shoes? It's too cold out there to be wandering around barefoot."

Once I had the shoes and coat on, Tod handed a backpack to me. "What's this for?" I asked.

Even though her face was in too much shadow to see her expression, I could hear the smile in Tod's voice. "It's a long way to the nearest town, so I figured you might want some food and a change of clothes for the trip."

When she stepped out into the hall, I could see she had a similar backpack strapped to her back. "Were you planning to run away too?"

"Well, maybe not so much run away as keep you company, if ya don't mind."

I saw Tracy was wearing a backpack as well when she came around to stand on the other side of me. "I was kinda hoping I could join ya too."

I sniffled a bit, trying to keep my emotions under control as I looked back and forth between the girls. "I ... I don't think anybody ever went out of their way like this to help me before. If ya's really wanna come, I'd be glad for the company."

=-=-=

I started shivering as I followed Tod and Tracy through the front doors of the dorm. A chilly breeze blew across the silvery grass on either side of us as we followed the long sidewalk to the parking lot. "I'm so glad I took your advice and wore pants tonight, Tracy"

"So am I." Tracy's grin looked spooky in the pale moonlight. "You woulda froze your legs off in your sister's dress."

"I just wish I didn't leave it behind." Realizing how that may have sounded, I added, " Now I can't give it back to her."

"Don't worry," Tod patted my backpack. "That's the change of clothes I told ya I'd packed for ya."

"Wow, thanks." I didn't expect to feel so relieved to realize I still had the dress. Even though I couldn't imagine wearing it out in public, just having it with me made me feel a little better. I was pretty deep in thought and didn't notice the sound of an extra pair of footsteps until we had reached the parking lot.

I peeked over my shoulder and saw Madam Martinique following close behind. "Oh jeez, it's the head mistress. Run!"

I was nearly halfway through the parking lot before the girls caught up with me. They each grabbed an arm and dragged me to a stop. "What the heck are ya's doing? She's gonna catch us."

"It's okay. She just wants to help," Tod said, still panting.

"Help? How? By keeping us from running away?"

"It's not like that."

"Yeah," Tracy added. "Madam Martinique just wants to help."

"All she wants to do is keep me from running away." Rage started boiling deep in my chest. "And you two weren't trying to help me neither. You were just keeping me busy until she could catch up to us. You ... you traitors!"

"That's not a very nice thing to call your friends." She sounded just a bit out of breath as she stepped around us to face me.

I tried yanking my arms loose, but Tod and Tracy turned out to be a lot stronger than they looked. "Let me go!"

The head mistress folder her arms across her chest. "Where would you like to go?"

It took a few moments before I could think of an answer to her odd question. "Well, home, I guess."

She nodded and pulled a set of keys from her coat pocket, which jangled as she searched through them. "Ah, here we go," she muttered as she unlocked the door to a nearby car and opened the back door. "Why don't the three of you get in the back seat?"

I was almost tempted to try running again when the girls let go of my arms, but I remembered how quickly they'd caught up to me and decided to try playing along for a while until I saw a better chance of escaping.

Tod was on one side of me and Tracy on the other as we buckled ourselves into the back seat. The car rumbled to life and we pulled out onto the narrow driveway. Except for the sound of the engine, the car was very quiet. After a few minutes, I asked, "Where are we going?"

Madam Martinique stopped the car, letting it idle as she twisted around to face me. "We're going to your home."

I could feel my mouth hanging open as I tried to make sense of her answer. "Why?"

The head mistress sighed. "Our first priority here at the school is the health and safety of our students. Running away, especially for someone your age, is very dangerous. While I believe you would gain a great deal by staying at our school, I'd never be able to live with myself if any harm came to you because you felt you had no other choices besides trying to run away.

I studied her face in the harsh glow of the overhead light in the car's roof. No matter how hard I looked, I couldn't see anything resembling even a half-truth. "So, you'll really take me home?"

"Of course." She seemed to be studying me as close as I'd been studying her. "Do you want to go home?"

"I do." I grabbed her arm as she faced forward and reached for the gearshift. "But I think, at least for now, school is my home." Both Tracy and Tod squealed and hugged me. I felt guilty about doubting them earlier, and lucky that they still seemed to want to be friends with me.

Madam Martinique looked at me in the rearview mirror, as if to check to see I was sure about my decision. When I nodded, she nodded back and turned the car around. As the school came back into sight, I realized it was more than a place to learn stuff. It was a place I might actually be able to think of as home.

This story is the story of how Madam Martinique, the head mistress of the finishing school that bore her name, had come to be in the care of the unforgettable Jane Thompson. It's based on Seasons of Change, copyright 1989 by Joel Larence, but more on the continuation of that original story into a series, copyright 1997 to 2008 by Tigger.

The Head Mistress's Head Mistress (aka Madam Martinique's Name)
Copyright 2009 by Heather Rose Brown
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

-= Prologue =-

Madam Martinique graciously accepted the cup of steaming black coffee offered to her, took a delicate sip, then closed her eyes for a moment as she sighed with appreciation. "This is absolutely perfect Mary. Ms. Thompson would have given you high marks for both this fine brew and for remembering how I liked it."

"Are you talking about Jane Thompson?" asked the part time supply clerk and full time friend of the head mistress as she hopped up into an overstuffed chair.

"The very same," the head mistress answered as she set her cup and saucer on the antique table between her and her friend.

Mary smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling with playfulness. "So, since we've actually managed to get a quiet moment to ourselves this morning, would it be possible to drag the story out of you of how you met her?"

Madam Martinique glanced at the grandfather clock tucked into the far corner of her private study. "It does appear as if I have a few minutes to share a thing or two about my experiences with her."

"I'm all ears!"

"Well, she's the woman who gave me my first name."

"I remember you telling me Martinique wasn't your birth name, but how did someone like Jane Thompon wind up giving you the name you use now?"

Madam Martinique was silent for a moment as she studied her friend's face. "If I tell you, I'll need to ask you to keep it in strictest confidence."

"Of course. You have my word. I'll never share this with anyone without your consent."

"Thank you, Mary. You're a good friend." The head mistress looked out the window, watching the sparkling morning sunlight dance amongst the few dry leaves still clinging to the trees directly outside. "I suppose, in order to tell the story properly, I'd need to go back to before I came into the picture."

-= 1 =-

"Ms. Thompson?" asked a soft voice, delicately flavored with a French Canadian accent.

Jane Thompson closed her weary eyes for a moment before peering over the wall of folders stacked around her in neatly arranged chaos. "Marie," she said when she recognized the housekeeper's friendly smile. "It's so nice to see you again. What brings you to Mrs. Carlton's office this time of night?" She glanced at the elegant watch on her wrist before amending, "Make that, morning."

"Actually, since you're now the head mistress of Eastmore, this would be your office, Ms. Thompson."

The new head mistress sighed, sinking into what was now HER leather chair. After a moment, she squared her shoulders, straightened out of her slouch, and held her chin high. "Point taken."

"I'm sorry," Marie whispered as she dropped her eyes.

"What on earth are you apologizing for?"

"I ... I shouldn't have corrected you like that."

"Oh, for goodness sakes." Jane jumped to her feet and marched around her desk. Marie's eye's went wide and a tiny eep escaped her lips before the head mistress pulled up short. Noticing the tray Marie held in her shaking hands, Jane carefully took it from her and set it down on a nearby coffee table before turning back to the housekeeper with a warm smile.

"Marie," said the head mistress, with a voice both gentle and firm, "you're the first person who's said anything the least bit useful to me since I accepted this position. Right now, I'll take all the feedback I can get."

Some of the tension eased from the housekeeper's shoulders. "Is that why you've been reading through all of those student files?"

Jane blinked in surprise. "How'd you know they were student files?"

"It was mostly just a guess. I assumed they weren't staff files, since there's way too many folders on your desk."

"That's a fairly reasonable deduction based on observable evidence," the head mistress said as she unconsciously slipped into her former teacher role for a moment. "You're correct about there being fewer staff files. I was able to get through them late this morning."

Jane glanced out a window at the pale light of dawn peeking through grey clouds heavy with the threat of rain. "Make that late yesterday morning. The student files have been taking me much longer to read through."

" Mon Dieu! You've been at this since yesterday morning? I must say, I admire your stamina. I don't think I could spend the whole day reading through all those files."

"Well, there wasn't much unexpected information in the staff files, but I did come across some surprising tidbits in the student files."

"Oh really?" Marie asked, curiosity plain on her face.

"Quite," Jane answered as she reached over the folders stacked across the front of her desk and picked up the file she had just been reading. "For instance, it appears a new student is scheduled to be brought here late this morning ... a male student."

"Another one? I thought we weren't taking any more."

The head mistress picked up several more folders. "So, these other boys were really enrolled here as well?"

Surprise, followed by confusion flitted across Marie's face. "Miss Erminson didn't tell you about that?"

"You mean, my so called personal assistant?" Jane nearly spat the last two words. "The only thing she told me was to not worry about our new student." She shook her head in disbelief. "A boy is about to be enrolled at what's supposed to be an all-girl school, and I'm not to worry? Why in the world would someone enroll a boy here?"

"I don't know if it'd be my place to say, Ma'am."

Jane sighed, then gave the other woman an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't burden you with my problems." She just then noticed the rich scent of freshly brewed coffee and bent over the tray on the table to better appreciate the aroma. "This smells wonderful. Would you care to join me in a cup?"

"That'd be lovely. Unfortunately, I only brought the one cup, so I don't--"

The head mistress interrupted the excuse with a harrumph before fishing out a large white mug from amongst the piles of paperwork on her desk. After placing the mug next to the more delicate teacup already on the tray and dropping the folders she'd been carrying on the other side of the coffee table, she looked up at Marie with a warm, friendly smile as she picked up the carafe. "Why don't you have a seat while I pour?" she asked as she nodded to the small sofa behind the table.

Marie stood for a moment, watching the other woman starting to fill both cups with steaming, caffeinated ambrosia, before perching nervously on the proffered seating.

After finding out how the other woman took her coffee, Jane prepared both cups, and offered the more delicate one to Marie before sitting down a companionable distance from her on the sofa. "Thank you so much for joining me. I really did need a break and having someone who doesn't treat me like an invader in this office is a welcome relief."

Marie studied the head mistress over the rim of her teacup as she sipped her coffee. "Actually, I should be the one thanking you."

"Whatever for?"

"Being a member of the housekeeping staff, I tend to be treated as. ..."

"Inferior?"

Marie nodded, intently studying the ripping reflections in her cup.

"I've noticed that attitude in too many of the teaching staff. As a member of that group, I'd like to apologize for such such boorish rudeness."

The housekeeper forced herself to look Jane in the eye. "Ms. Thompson, there's no need for you to apologize. You've always. ..."

The head mistress held up a hand. "Please, call me Jane. Otherwise, I'll have to call you Miss Bellemont."

Marie's brows slid up high on her forehead. "I had no idea you knew my last name."

"Like I said, I went through all the staff files yesterday morning. But please, continue what you were saying."

"Thank you, Ms Tho-- I mean, Jane. I just wanted to let you know I noticed how you've always treated me, as well as everyone else with which I've seen you interact, with kindness and respect. As for the way the other teaching staff members acted ... well, there's no way you could have done anything about that."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not. Whatever the case may have been, I do have the power now to make some needed changes." Jane reached across the coffee table and carefully placed her mug on the tray before straightening back up with unaffected poise and returning her full attention to Marie. "I assure you, if certain individuals aren't willing to learn to treat their co-workers with respect, heads will roll."

Just as Marie's jaw dropped in surprise at the unexpected proclamation, the office door swung open and a determined looking Miss Erminson strode in. She had only taken a few steps into the office before she froze and turned to the women seated on the sofa. "Ms. Thompson? What are you doing here so early in the morning?" She glared at Marie. "More importantly, what are you doing fraternizing with the help?"

Jane drew herself up to her full height. Even though she wasn't any taller than Miss Erminson, the head mistress still managed to tower over her personal assistant. "Miss Bellemont is not 'the help'. She is your co-worker and deserving of your respect. If you can not do that, you are welcome find employment elsewhere."

The personal assistant's mouth opened and closed twice before she was able to speak. " Who's Miss Bellemont, and what do you mean by 'find employment elsewhere'? Am I ... being fired?"

The head mistress regarded Miss Erminson for several long seconds. "I'm not a woman to make empty threats, so I will only tell you this once. You are very, very close to losing your position as my assistant."

"For what, referring to the help as the help?"

The head mistress threw her shoulders back and gave the other woman a thoroughly withering look. "Miss Erminson, your behavior now, as well as what I've observed in the past, has led me to believe your presence will be a hinderance to the changes I am planning to make. Therefore, your services will no longer be required."

"You ... you can't do that. You need me!"

"To a certain extent, you are correct. The position of head mistress does require the assistance of someone upon whom I can rely." Turning regally from the start of Miss Erminson's triumphant grin to Marie's confused expression, Jane said, "Miss Bellemont, I have a position recently open as a personal assistant. Would you be interested in such a position?"

It took a moment before Marie found her voice. "I'd be honored, but--"

"Don't worry about the details, dear. I'll have a word with the head of the housekeeping staff and work out a replacement for you."

"Wait a minute!," Miss Erminson shouted. "You can't give her my position."

Jane Thompson slowly turned back, arching her brow in a way that made her former assistant cringe. "Is that so?" she asked, every carefully enunciated word ringing with unrestrained hauteur.

"I m-mean. ..." Miss Erminson stopped and swallowed nervously before continuing. "What I'm trying to say is, I can't afford to be unemployed."

Jane's expression softened ever so slightly. "I believe there will be a position open on the housekeeping staff. It may be difficult at first learning a new position, but I'm sure you have the intelligence and determination needed to excel."

The former personal assistant stared at the head mistress in stunned silence.

Jane examined her watch, then walked over to the door and held it open. "The head of the housekeeping staff should be in her office right about now. If you hurry, I believe you will be able to get there before she starts her rounds."

Miss Erminson looked at the open door for a few seconds without blinking once before turning to the head mistress and saying in a very subdued voice, "Thank you, Ms. Thompson."

Jane simply nodded as the other woman shuffled through the doorway, then slowly closed the door after her former personal assistant had left. She listened closely until she could no longer hear the retreating woman's footsteps, then leaned against the wall and wilted with relief.

Marie stood and nearly ran across the room. "Jane, is everything all right?"

The head mistress regained her composure as she pulled herself away from the wall. "I'll be all right Marie. I'm just relieved that woman didn't try to call my bluff."

"What bluff?"

"I don't actually have the authority to hire or fire anyone."

"But, you're the head mistress."

"True, but I can only bring my recommendations to the school board. They have the final say in who gets hired or fired."

"Then why did you tell her she was fired?"

A dangerous smile stretched across Jane's face. "I said no such thing."

Marie contemplated the scene to which she had been witness before a more demure grin grew on her face. "I see. You only said her services would no longer be required."

"Just so," Jane answered, the tiniest hint of mischief twinkling in her eyes.

"The only thing I don't understand is why you let her believe you were firing her."

"Despite her faults, I know Miss Erminson is basically a good, decent person. She just needs a bit of an attitude adjustment. I believe she might be able to develop a better appreciation and respect for the housekeeping staff if she had the opportunity to work with them."

Marie's brows knitted with confusion. "I still don't understand what that has to do with letting her think she was fired."

"Basically, I thought she would be more likely to consider such a position if she was under the impression that it was the only option available. So long as there is a change in position without a change of employment status, the board doesn't get involved. If they did get involved, she would most likely have found herself unemployed."

Marie's confused smile shrunk to a small frown. "So, you didn't really want me to be your personal assistant?"

"Of course I do. You'll be perfect for the position."

"But, I don't know anything about running a school."

"You don't need to. Running the school is my job. Your job will be to assist me."

"How would I do that?"

"Well, the first thing you can do is tell me all you know about boys being enrolled here in the past." She glanced at her watch again. "Unfortunately, that'll have to wait until I get back."

"Why? Where are you going?" Marie asked as she followed Jane to the desk.

"Our newest male student is arriving by bus in a few hours and it's a long drive to the station," the head Mistress answered as she shrugged into the tailored jacket that had been hanging on the back of her chair. "If I leave now, I'll be able to get there before he does."

"Oh no you don't," Marie announced, placing her hands firmly on her hips.

Surprised at the sudden change in temperament of the usually shy woman, Jane stopped in the middle of buttoning her jacket and turned her full attention on her new assistant. "What the he--" She quickly reined in her temper. "I mean, what in heaven's name are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about you ... in bed ... sleeping."

To her surprise, Jane found herself sitting in her chair, nearly cowering under Marie's maternal glare by the end of that sentence. The head mistress's natural self confidence quickly reasserted itself, but she almost felt as if she were asking permission rather than making a statement when she said, "That will have to wait until later. Picking up this student is much more important."

Marie's glare faded, making her look more worried than angry. "Mon cheri, if that's the only thing keeping you from getting some well needed rest, then I will pick up l'enfant."

Jane pulled a sleek leather purse from one of the desk drawers that perfectly complemented the black power suit she was now wearing. "That's very thoughtful of you, but I couldn't accept your offer. If even half of what I read in his file is true, he'll be more than a handful, and I couldn't ask anyone else to take on that kind of responsibility."

Marie folded her arms over her ample bosom. "Are you willing to also take on the responsibility of causing a traffic accident when you fall asleep at the wheel?"

"I will NOT allow that to happen!"

Marie drew closer and smiled softly. "I have no doubt of your intentions or your ability to push yourself when necessary. I also admire your willingness to take on this responsibility, but you don't need to do it alone. If you truly wish to have me as your assistant, then let me assist you."

"I assume you have something in mind," Jane stated, doing her best to keep her tone neutral.

"Oui. I suggest we leave together. I will drive while you get some sleep. When we arrive, you will be able to better handle le garçon, and I will be able to help as needed."

Jane allowed herself a moment to smile at the woman who was already feeling less like a personal assistant, and more like a friend.

-= 2 =-

Jane scanned the damp bus station with barely concealed distaste. "You'd think someone would have thought to provide proper shelter here."

Marie pulled her long woolen overcoat closed as a cool breeze swirled about her bare ankles, then peeked around the handle of the umbrella she shared with the other woman. "Is this your first time at a bus station?"

"No, but it has been long enough that I'd forgotten how much I dislike such places. I wish we could have met our new student at a train station."

"Why's that?"

"They're much more civilized." The head mistress paused to cover her nose and mouth with a gloved hand as the bus that had been parked in front of them pulled away. "Plus, we wouldn't have to deal with these wretched exhaust fumes."

Marie nodded in agreement, holding her breath until the noxious stench blended into the general stale odor of the station. "Perhaps we could arrange something like that when more boys are sent to Eastmore?"

"You believe there will be more?"

"I'm almost certain of it, especially when people hear Eastmore has a new head mistress. The only reason a halt was put to the program was because Mrs. Carlton became increasingly ill and could no longer oversee it."

Jane reached into her purse and pulled out a small photo of a young boy with closely cropped chocolate-brown hair. "So, how did our Mr. Roberts receive the unique distinction of being sent to our school while other boys were refused?"

"When you had mentioned his mother's name, I recognized it as Mrs. Carlton's daughter. He must have been the special student about which I'd overheard your predecessor asking Miss Erminson to watch over."

The new head mistress sniffed. "It sounds as if my former assistant was involved a great deal in the head mistress's office."

"To be honest, she was basically running everything towards the end. Almost everyone had been expecting her to take over for Mrs. Carlton when the time came, which is probably why it was such a surprise when the school board chose you instead."

"I admit to being surprised as well, but I'm sure the board had their reasons for the choice they made."

Marie studied Jane's carefully controlled facial features and wondered if there was more she wasn't saying. Unfortunately, before she could think of a discreet way of asking, the bus they'd been waiting for pulled up in front of them.

Jane put the photo back in her purse and gave her assistant a quick smile. "You all ready?"

Marie took in a deep breath. "I'm about as ready as I'll ever be."

"Don't worry. Just follow my lead." Jane turned to the front of the bus as the doors opened. "Looks like it's show time."

It took several minutes for the bus to empty. For a miniscule fraction of a second, Jane felt a twinge of panic when she realized none of the faces she'd seen had matched the boy's photo. Just as she was approaching the open door to the bus to ask the driver some pointed questions, a small figure was being herded out by an older gentleman dressed in a bus driver's uniform.

"Sorry son," the older man said, "but you'll have to buy a return ticket if you want to get a ride back."

"Fine," The boy grumbled as he yanked a duffle bag from the drivers hand. He staggered under the weight of the baggage, but waved his free hand in annoyance when the driver reached out to him.

Although his face was slightly thinner and his shaggy mane was much longer, Jane quickly realized this was the boy for which she'd been waiting and strode up to him. "Martin Roberts?" she asked, the sureness in her tone made it a statement as much as a question.

"Who wants to know?" he growled, casting a baleful eye on the head mistress.

Jane decided to ignore his attitude for the moment and simply answered his question. "I'm Ms. Thompson, the head mistress of the school in which you're about to be enrolled, and this is my assistant, Marie."

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Martin," Marie said as she held out a folded umbrella. When he looked at her hand in confusion, she asked, "Are you Martin Roberts?"

"Urmmm ... yeah," he answered as he accepted the umbrella. "What's this for?"

"You may not have noticed yet, but it's raining at the moment." Jane said, her words somehow even more biting for the calm even way in which they were spoken. "While my umbrella can cover my assistant and I, it's not quite large enough for all three of us."

Martin studied the head mistress for a few moments, blinking drops of rain from his eyelashes, before turning to Marie and holding the umbrella out to her. " 'Brellas is for sissies. I don't want it."

While Jane was still trying to decide if she should correct the boy's grammar or rudeness first, Marie waved a hand at Martin and said, "Non non, mon cheri. You go ahead and hold onto that so you can use it if you change your mind."

Martin frowned, causing raindrops to slide between his brows and run down the sides of his nose, then shrugged and tucked the umbrella under his arm.

Trying to hide how flustered she was feeling at how this meeting had been going, Jane managed to hold her head just a bit higher. "Very well, Mr. Roberts. I see we have much to discuss, but this does not seem like the appropriate place to do so. It will be a long walk to the car." She turned on her heel and said, "If you will follow me," before marching towards the parking lot.

Marie gave the boy a befuddled smile, then became aware she was holding the umbrella that had been protecting both her and Jane, and rushed to catch up with the head mistress.

The boy watched the women as they walked away, then pulled up the bag that had been sliding from his shoulder and trotted after them.

=-=-=

After tucking both her and the head mistress's coat as well as she could around the child sleeping in the back of the car, Marie sat back down and buckled herself into the passenger seat, then whispered, "I think he'll be warm enough now, even with him being soaked to the skin."

Jane checked on her dozing passenger in the rear-view mirror before returning her attention to the slowly moving highway traffic. "Were you able to get the seat belt on him?" she asked in an equally hushed voice.

Marie nodded, then realized the head mistress might have missed the gesture and added, "Yes, although it was a bit tricky shifting him up in the seat so I could fasten it properly. I was half expecting l'enfant to wake up, but he slept through the whole thing."

"I suppose the long bus trip may have worn him out."

"That'd make sense. I'm just surprised anyone would put such a young child on a bus alone."

"Fifteen really isn't that young to be unaccompanied on a bus trip."

"Fifteen?" Marie looked over her shoulder at the boy swaddled in overcoats before turning back to the head mistress. "I would have guessed twelve, and rather small for his age at that."

"Unless there was an error in his records, which I doubt Mrs. Carlton would have tolerated, he turned fifteen a few months ago."

"Perhaps that's why he refused to use my umbrella?"

Jane's brows popped up in surprise. "How does his apparent or actual age relate to him being rude?"

"Well, I think part of what makes him look younger is his size. For some reason, there seems to be a fair amount of people who associate being larger with being more dominate, and thus more masculine. Occasionally, some males may try to compensate for an imagined loss in masculinity by trying avoid anything that might be considered a sign of weakness."

The head mistress slowly nodded her head. "I think I see what you mean. Accepting and using something to protect himself from the rain would run right smack into that."

"Oui."

The car was silent for nearly ten minutes as Jane navigated the bottleneck around the accident that had been causing traffic to slow down. When they were able to resume normal highway speed, Jane thumped the steering wheel with a tightly clenched hand and muttered something under her breath.

Marie tentatively touched the other woman's arm. "Jane, what's wrong?"

"I cant believe how badly I mangled that meeting with our new student."

"What are you talking about?"

"I should have offered to shake his hand or ... or something like that so he could establish a masculine identity. I hadn't considered how he might try to put on a show of bravado if he felt he needed to defend his masculinity."

"I have a feeling he would have acted the same no matter what you or I did. I just worry how he'll react to having to dress and live as a girl if he's already acting this way with no real provocation."

"No!" Jane snapped her jaw shut and checked in the mirror to see if her back seat passenger had been awakened by her shout. When she was convinced he hadn't been disturbed, she returned her attention to driving and spoke more quietly. "I am NOT putting that boy through Mrs. Carlton's 'program'."

Marie smiled as she whispered, "I'm so glad to hear that. At best, it seemed to humiliate the other boys. At worst ... well, I'd rather not go into that."

"I can imagine what the worst would entail. Eastmore is a place for learning, and I can see nothing useful to be learned from such an experience."

"So, if our new student isn't going to be using the school uniform like our previous male students, what will he wear?"

"I'm assuming he has at least one change of clothes in his duffle bag. He should be able to wear that until we can find something more appropriate."

"If his bag is as thoroughly drenched as he is, I have a feeling whatever clothing he may have brought will be as damp as what he's already wearing."

"You have a good point." Jane flashed Marie a grateful smile. "You've already proven several times over I made the right choice when I asked you to be my personal assistant."

The assistant blushed as she murmured a very soft, "Thank you."

"You're very welcome." The head mistress's expression became more serious as she fell into thoughtful silence. A few minutes later, she said, "I think I'll make a couple of calls around the campus when we get back. I'm sure someone somewhere must have something dry, clean, and acceptably boyish."

"That sounds like a good idea. Are you going to let him live as a boy in one of the dorms with the girls?"

"Actually, I was thinking moving into Mrs. Carlton's cottage and bringing him with me."

Marie cleared her throat in a very meaningful way. Jane turned to her for a moment and was surprised by her assistants frown. "You don't think that'd be a good idea? I really can't think of anyplace else to keep him."

"Actually, I think it's an excellent idea. But it's your cottage now, not Mrs. Carlton's."

Jane looked at the woman beside her again and saw her frown had been replaced by an infectious grin. Despite the embarrassment of being caught making the same mistake on the same day, Jane couldn't help smiling back.

-= 3 =-

Jane had just finished moving the student files she hadn't reviewed from her office in the administrative building to the smaller downstairs study in the cottage when she heard the thud of stomping feet, accompanied by some rather creative expletives.

Setting down the file she was just about to start reading, the head mistress followed the noise up the stairs to the guest bedroom recently assigned to Martin. She knocked on the door and asked to be let in, but eventually decided he was either ignoring her or making too much noise to hear. Thoroughly annoyed with the situation, she swung the door open to find a naked boy angrily tearing clothing from a large, antique wardrobe.

Martin squealed with surprise. Before the clothing he had just tossed in the air reached the ground, he managed to dash into the attached bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

Once Jane recovered from her own surprise, she walked to the bathroom and rapped on the door. "Martin, what did you think you were just doing?" she shouted.

"I was looking for my clothes!" he shouted back.

"By tossing clothes that don't belong to you on the floor?"

When the boy muttered something unintelligible, the head mistress sighed with exasperation. "Mr. Roberts, we can not continue in this manner. Please come out here so we can have a civil conversation."

"I can't."

Jane took in a deep breath and let it out slowly as she silently counted to ten. "And why, might I ask, can you not comply with such a simple request?"

"I ain't got no clothes."

Jane thought back to the time she was carrying her last stack of folders through the downstairs hallway as she passed Marie, who was carrying a laundry basket full of wet clothes.

*Oh my goodness,* she thought. *I completely forgot I had told Marie I'd be making calls to find something our new student could wear.* Realizing where the boys clothes probably were by now, she did her best to salvage the situation. "Did I see you with something in your hand when you ran in there?"

Martin mumbled again.

"Mr Roberts, either come out here so I can hear you clearly, or speak up."

"I said yeah, I did."

"What exactly is it?"

"Looks like a bathrobe."

"That should be sufficient to cover you. Please put it on and come out here."

"I can't."

"Why, pray tell, are you not able to put it on?"

"It's PINK!"

The head mistress closed her eyes and massaged the bridge of her nose. "Martin, pink is a color, just like any other color. Please just put the--" She bit off the curse word aching to be spoken. "Just put on the bathrobe on and don't give me any more nonsense."

"But ... but I can't!"

"Martin, if you continue insisting you are unable to follow such simple instructions, I'll be forced to come in there and assist you."

"No!" The boy's shout was filled with equal amounts of shock and fear. "I'm putting it on now. Just don't come in, okay?"

"That sounds like an acceptable request. I will be down in my study, which is the first door to the right when you come to the bottom of the stairs. I expect you to be there in ten minutes. If you do not arrive within the alloted amount of time, I will come back to assist you."

Without waiting for a reply, Jane did a sharp about-face and left the bedroom.

=-=-=

The head mistress tapped her fingernails in a steady staccato in the space she had cleared on her desk as she waited for someone she was hoping could provide some crucial advice to answer her call. On the third ring, a pleasant, familiar voice said, " ¿Hola?"

"Judith? This is Jane."

"Jane? It's so good to hear from you!  ¿Que paso, chica?"

"Things have been a little crazy since I agreed to become the head mistress of Eastmore ... especially today."

"Oh, you poor thing. Tell Tia Judith all about it."

Despite her anxiety, Jane found herself smiling at the affectionate title of Tia (spanish for Aunt) she had given to her friend while they were freshmen in college. "You realize, of course, you're only a year older than me."

"Of course," Judith answered with a mixture of playfulness and maternal patience, "and I'll never let you forget it." After both women chuckled at the familiar come-back, Judith asked in a more serious tone, "So, what's going on?"

"Well, it seems we have a new student enrolling today."

"Would I be correct in guessing there's something unusual about this new student?"

"Not much, actually ... except for the fact that he's male."

" ¿Usted tiene un estudiante masculino allá­? I thought Eastmore only took female students."

"I'd been under the same impression. It wasn't until recently I'd learned of a program overseen by the previous head mistress, where a surprising number of male students were enrolled here and forced to live as female students."

"You know, that sounds something like that paper you wrote for the behavioral psychology course you took in your senior year."

Jane had to think a minute before she recalled the reference. "You mean the one about petticoat discipline?"

" ¡Exactamente!"

"Hmmm. I can see the similarities, but what I wrote is quite different from what appears to have been going on here. Simple punishment to discourage unacceptable behavior wouldn't be nearly as effective as using Skinner's operant conditioning and other behavior modification methods to both discourage unacceptable behavior as well as eliciting more desirable and socially acceptable behavior."

Jane noticed the metallic click of a handle being turned and looked up to see the door to her study slowly opening. "I'm going to have to go, Judith. Thank you so much for your help."

"I'm not sure how I helped, but you're quite welcome. Vaya con dios, mija."

"Y usted también, Tia."

It was only with a great deal of self discipline that the head mistress managed to keep a straight face as Martin shyly walked through the doorway. The robe he wore was almost painfully feminine, as well as being unabashedly, even glaringly pink. She placed the ornate handset back on the equally ornate phone base, then asked in a steady, resonate voice, "Mr. Roberts, have you ever heard of knocking?"

"I did!" the boy shouted. When he noticed the flare of displeasure in the head mistress's expression, he lowered his volume, but his frustration was still apparent. "I tried knocking, but nobody answered. You said I had to be here in ten minutes, and I didn't wanna get in trouble for not being here when ya said I was supposed to."

Deciding his intentions were in the right place, Jane decided to forgo correcting his methods as well as his grammar, and gestured to the straight-backed wooden chair on the other side of her desk. "Please have a seat, Martin."

Once he was seated, the head mistress looked down at the folder in front of her, slowly opened it up, then began rifling though the contents. She looked up a few minutes later when she noticed her newest student fidgeting. "If you will be able to sit still for a few moments, I'll be right with you."

The boy frowned at the softly spoken reprimand, but remained silent.

A few more minutes passed before Jane looked up again. "According to these records, this is the fourth private school you've attended. Does this count sound sound correct to you?"

Jane clenched her teeth when he made a non-commital shrug. Realizing he needed more prompting, she forced her jaw to relax as she said, "Martin, when someone asks you a direct question, it's considered polite to make a verbal response. With that in mind, I will pose my question again. Does this count sound correct to you?"

"I guess so," was the boys nearly inaudible reply.

"I see. Let me try asking a different question. Do you have any idea what will happen if you continue on the course you're currently following?"

"I dunno. I'll get sent to another school?"

The boy nearly jumped from his chair when the head mistress smacked her hand down on the papers she'd been reading. "If these reports from your other schools are any indication of the direction in which you're headed, the only place that would consider accepting you would be a reform school."

"Reform school?"

"Yes. Is that something you would like to experience?"

"No!"

Jane allowed that statement to be followed by just enough silence for the boy to reflect on what they had discussed. "Mr. Roberts, do you know why you're here today?"

The boy looked down at his bare toes dangling a fraction of an inch from the floor, and muttered something into his chest.

"Martin, it's considered polite to look at someone when you're speaking to them."

The boy slowly looked up, the defiance in his tense posture offset by the pain in his eyes. "I said, I'm here 'cause my mom hates me."

*Oh no,* Jane thought. *Does this child truly believe what he's just said?* "How did you come to such a conclusion?" she asked, hoping the pain she felt for a child who could make such a statement didn't show through the calm she was trying to project.

"If she really wanted me around, I'd be goin' to school at home instead of bein' sent out to private schools."

Unable to maintain eye contact and her composure at the same time, the head mistress looked down at the pages in front of her and flattened the creases she'd made in the top sheet as she said, "According to these records, you'd become increasingly violent while you were enrolled at your school at home, finally being expelled for threatening several students with a blunt object and making death threats in the hearing of other students."

"They started it!"

Jane looked up to see Martin had somehow managed to slump down in the chair until his toes reached the ground. "Please sit up properly." Although she spoke very calmly and quietly, there was no doubt this was an order, not a request. When the boy finally complied, she asked, "Who started what, and how was it started?"

Martin folded his arms tightly across his chest. "You don't really wanna know."

Jane held herself slightly more erect. "I most certainly do wish to know what happened. If I didn't, I wouldn't have asked."

The boy gave her an incredulous look, then shrugged and sighed. "It all started when our phys-ed teacher had us playing baseball. I was up to bat when these three guys who always give me grief started yelling at me from the bleachers. They'd been on my case all day, and after I missed the second pitch, I kinda snapped."

"Was this the point at which you threatened these boys with physical violence?"

"No!" Under the head mistress's inquisitionist stare, he added, "Well, yeah, but it ain't the way it sounds."

"I see. Were you holding a blunt instrument, such as a baseball bat, at this time?"

"Yeah, but I wasn't threatening them with it. I was just holding it."

"I believe I'm beginning to see what happened. So, what did you say to them while you were holding the baseball bat?"

"I ... ummm ... well, I kinda told them I'd ... uhhh. ..."

"Grunting is not conducive to a meaningful conversation. If you're unsure of how to express yourself, it would be more appropriate to pause and think about what you have to say, then speak when you're ready."

To Jane's surprise, the boy actually paused for several seconds before speaking again. "I told 'em I was gonna knock the snot outta them if they didn't quit raggin' on me."

The head mistress nodded, then folded her hands on her desk as she leaned forward. "Do you think there might have been a better way in which you could have dealt with that situation?"

"Like what?"

Jane sat back in her chair and studied her new student for a moment. "That's something I propose to teach you."

=-=-=

"And he said he'd follow your program when you told him you'd teach him a different way of reacting?" Marie asked as she scooped the last of the clothes from the washer and tossed them into the dryer.

"It took some discussion after I made my proposal, but eventually he gave me his word to commit himself to my program and follow my instructions without argument to the best of his ability."

"I'm rather impressed you were able to get that level of commitment from a child his age." Marie turned her attention to the dryer and began adjusting the settings. "Is he aware of everything your program will include?"

"He does know I plan to immerse him in an environment radically different from what he's experienced in the past while I teach him new ways of dealing with stressful situations."

Once the dryer started, the personal assistant turned her attention back to the head mistress. "So, how will his environment be radically different?"

"According to what I've read in his records, any time he had gotten into trouble, he was acting in a stereotypically macho manner while interacting with other boys. Part of what I plan to do is remove anything even remotely male from his environment."

"Which is why you asked me not to bring his clothes back to him?"

"Precisely."

"But, if he won't be using anything he brought with him, what'll he wear?"

"From what I could deduce by the clothing Martin had forcibly removed from his wardrobe, Mrs. Carlton at some time had a young, female houseguest staying in the room he now occupies."

"And you plan to have him wearing her clothes?"

Jane gave her assistant a firm, unambiguous nod.

Marie frowned, looking thoroughly perplexed. "I thought you didn't approve of Mrs. Carlton's program because it punished male students by forcing them to wear female clothing."

"Although I anticipate a certain degree of discomfort and even embarrassment initially, my goal in having him wearing female clothing is not to punish him. Rather, I'm hoping the alienness of the clothing, combined with an unfamiliar environment, will be less likely to trigger old, socially unacceptable habits so he can concentrate on learning new, more acceptable ways of dealing with stressful situations."

"Changing his clothing and environment will do that?"

"To a certain extent, that is correct, but in order to help him make changes that will stay with him when he is exposed to his previous environment, I intend to teach him to act, and perhaps even to see himself, in a radically different way.

"How are you going to do that?"

Jane looked at her assistant for a moment before flatly stating, "I intend to teach him how to be a girl."

Marie gaped at the head mistress for a few seconds, then closed her mouth in a firm line of determination. "How can I help?"

It was Jane's turn to gape. "You're willing to help me, even with the way you felt about Mrs. Carlton's program?"

"While I don't completely understand how it will all work, I trust your intentions and believe something positive can come out of this."

Jane reached out and took hold of both of Marie's hands. "Thank you." She looked up in the general direction of Martin's bedroom. "I can feel something beautiful under that child's surly, disreputable exterior, and she deserves all the help she can get to bring that out."

"She?"

The head mistress turned back to her assistant. "Correct. In order for her to be totally immersed in her new environment, everything needs to be changed, including the pronouns we use."

Marie nodded, smiling uncertainly. "I'll try to keep that in mind while I help hi--er, find something to wear."

Jane squeezed the other woman's hands before letting go. "Thank you again. I'll call the kitchen staff in the cafeteria. We've missed lunch by now, but I'm sure they'll have something the three of us can turn into a meal."

=-=-=

To Jane's surprise, the kitchen staff turned out to be much more helpful than she had expected. The soup and sandwiches she requested had somehow turned into an elaborate spread, with a snowy white linen tablecloth spread on the dining room table, real china and more silverware than the simple meal actually required.

Once she had lead the kitchen staff members out the front door (after thanking them for their help and assuring them again that she really didn't mind serving herself), Jane walked back to the dining room and froze, stunned at the transformation Marie had managed in such a short time.

"You look lovely, Martin," the head mistress said as she walked to the head of the table and sat down. Marie nodded across the table to the femininely attired boy as she gracefully sat down.

Martin slumped down in his own chair, giving Marie a nasty look before turning to Jane. "I look like a damn sissy!"

The head mistress looked at her soup, wondering if she would be able to have any before it went cold, then turned her attention to her student. "Young lady, we do NOT use that type of language here."

"I ain't no goddam lady. I'm a guy!"

"Miss Roberts, you gave me your word you would follow my instructions without arguing. Are you going back on your word now?"

"I never agreed to any of this shit!" Martin shot to his feet, nearly knocking down his chair. "To hell with this. I'm leaving!"

Jane found her soup spoon, dipped it in the bowl, then gently blew on the fragrant broth before taking a sip. "Very well. If you can not do what you agreed to do, you may leave."

Martin stared at the head mistress as if some stranger had snuck in and taken her place. "You're really letting me go?"

She took another sip before setting her spoon beside her bowl. "Of course. I can not and will not force someone to do something against their will. If your word is not enough to keep you here, you're free to leave."

"I ... I am?"

"That is correct. The front door is at the end of the hall, right next to the stairs."

"Oh ... okay. Ummm, where's my clothes?"

Jane raised her hand just as Marie opened her mouth. When her assistant remained silent, the head mistress said, "If you are leaving, you will leave just as you are."

"I can't do that. People would think I'm sort of a fruitcake if they saw me dressed like this."

Jane turned a glare onto Martin that would have turned all three bowls on the table to ice. "I will have nothing to do with anyone who refuses to keep their word when things become slightly uncomfortable. If you leave, you do so on your own recognizance. If you're really the man you claim to be, I'm sure you will find a way to manage."

The head mistress watched intently as realization dawned in her student's expression. Eventually, Martin slumped back down, looking totally defeated. In a quiet, no-nonsense manner, Jane asked, "does returning to your seat imply you have decided to keep your word and follow my instructions, even if you feel uncomfortable with them?"

When her student slowly nodded, she said, "Very well, you may consider yourself on probation until I'm convinced you mean to do as you've implied. Now, please stand up."

Fear lit up Martin's eyes. "I thought you said I didn't have to leave."

"Young lady, if I was planning on telling you to leave, I would have said so. Now, please do as you were told." When she slowly rose to her feet, Jane gave her student an encouraging smile. "Very good. Now, for your first lesson, you will learn how to sit properly while wearing a skirt or dress."

-= 4 =-

"Oh Marie, you didn't need to bring me breakfast."

The personal assistant smiled as she brought a covered tray to the head mistress's desk. "Actually, it's more a brunch than breakfast."

Jane looked up at the stately grandfather clock standing in the far corner of her study as it neatly sliced time into seconds with its ponderously swaying pendulum. "It's eleven o'clock already? Where did the morning go?"

"If today has gone like the past week, I'd say it went to teaching Martin to be a girl, acting as her personal tutor, as well as your regular duties as head mistress."

"Has it been a week already?"

"To the day ... nearly to the hour even."

"It's hard to believe Martin's been with us that long."

Marie smiled. "You've accomplished a lot with her in that time. She seems so much like a girl now, it feels strange referring to her as Martin."

Jane returned the smile. " I couldn't have done it without your help, dear. As far as the name goes, perhaps that's what's been holding her back recently."

"I don't understand. How's she being held back?"

The head mistress frowned for a moment, deep in thought. "I'm not entirely certain how to describe what seems to be happening, but it feels as if some of the urgency she had at first is fading."

"Is she refusing follow through with your instructions on how to behave like a proper young lady?"

"No, but it seems as if she's just going through the motions rather than really trying."

"Have you confronted her about the lack of enthusiasm?"

"I've tried, but there's very little I can actually point at to show where she's doing something wrong, and I'm growing tired of scolding her for little, nit-picky things."

"If I may say so, you do look exhausted. Perhaps this will perk you up?" Marie lifted the tray cover with a flourish, revealing a plate stacked with what looked like wafer-thin pancakes beside a bowl of sliced strawberries and another bowl of whipped cream.

"Oh, Marie, this looks wonderful! I haven't had crepes in ages, but I don't think I could even manage eating half of these. Would you mind joining me?"

Marie gave the head mistress a knowing grin. "I had a feeling you'd say that," she said as she lifted the plate to reveal two more underneath, "which is why I came prepared."

Once the crepes had been divvied up and Marie finished chewing the first bite of her brunch, she asked, "So, how's Martin been doing academically?"

Jane looked up from the crepe she was carefully rolling up. "Her test scores from the other schools were abysmal, so I hadn't been expecting much, but her performance so far has continually surprised me. She even managed to finish the homework I had expected would take her the whole weekend to complete a few hours after dinner last night."

"That's quite impressive."

"Indeed."

"So, what is she doing now?"

"After she came to me with her completed homework this morning, she asked if there might be someplace outside she could go to draw."

"You let her go outside?"

"At first I was going to say no, but I felt it might be appropriate to reward her for the effort she put into completing her homework. I decided, since the garden behind the cottage is enclosed and the hedges surrounding it are too thick to be seen through, it'd be safe enough for an outdoor setting."

Marie's fork clattered as it dropped onto her plate. "Martin is outside, in the garden, on a Saturday morning?"

"Yes ... is there something wrong with that?"

"Well, I know you've been careful to only let you and I see Martin, so I thought it might be a problem if the gardener followed his regular schedule of working in the cottage garden on Saturday mornings."

Jane blanched as she whispered, "Oh no." Fear for her student added speed to her pace as she raced to the back of the house. Even before she was out the kitchen door, she was shouting, "Martin! Martin--eek!" The last syllable came out as a squeak when the head mistress saw a middle-aged man in denim overalls opening the door in the rear entrance to the garden.

Martin, who'd been absorbed trying to sketch a pair of squirrels skittering up and down the tree in front her, hadn't noticed the gardener's entrance and only looked up to the head mistress when she heard her name being called. "Yes, ma'am?" she asked in a voice that had become soft and lilting, yet easily heard and understood only after a great many hours of practice."

"I beg your pardon, ladies," said the man at the garden door in a rich tenor. "I hadn't realized you'd be using the garden now. Would there be a better time for me to come back?"

Martin's face turned pale at the sound of the man's voice. She slowly turned to him, then looked back at the head mistress with abject terror.

Jane quickly closed the distance to her student and rested her arm across Martin's shoulders, offering what comfort she could under the circumstances. Realizing the man's question hadn't been answered, she turned to him and said, "No need to change your schedule, sir. I was just about to call Martin--ique into the house.

The head mistress felt her student tense, but was relieved the child had enough sense to not challenge the improvised name change.

The man removed his hat and made a small nodding bow. "I'd heard you'd moved into the cottage here, Ms Thompson. It's a pleasure to finally meet you, as well as you, Miss Martinique," he said as he smiled at the newly rechristened girl.

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Mr. ..."

The man donned his hat as he smiled. "Oh, just call me Tom. Everyone else does."

"Then please call me Jane."

Tom nodded and his smile grew. "It'd be an honor and pleasure."

Jane looked at her student, who was still frozen in the place she'd been sitting. "Martinique, is there something you'd like to say?"

It took a second before the boy-disguised-as-a-girl recognized her new name. Standing as well as she could on legs that didn't seem to want to stay under her, she managed a reasonable curtsy before saying in a demure, if slightly quavering voice, "It's nice to meet you, sir."

"It's nice to meet you as well, young lady." He said, giving her a friendly wink. "So, if it's really okay with you, I probably should get to work."

"Of course," said the head mistress as she held out her hand to her student. "Come along, Martinique."

=-=-=

"MartinIQUE?!" screeched the recently renamed girl when they were safely inside.

"Young lady, what did I tell you about using your indoor voice?" asked the head mistress.

"What kind of name is Martinique?" asked the girl in a more subdued but no less agitated voice.

"It's a perfectly acceptable name."

"But it ain't. ..." She caught the look in her teacher's eye and said, "I mean, it isn't my name."

"Perhaps, but I think it would be a good idea for you to start going by the name of Martinique for now."

-= Epilogue =-

"And that is how I got the name, Martinique," the head mistress said as she picked her cup and saucer back up from the table and took a sip of her lukewarm coffee.

"THAT was Jane Thompson? It doesn't sound very much like the other stories I've heard about her."

"Perhaps it wasn't the most accurate retelling of the events as they happened. Part of that might be blamed on the fact that a some of the story is second hand. Another, perhaps larger, part of it most likely is because I'm telling things from my own perspective."

"I suppose that makes sense. It's just hard imagining you in rose-tinted glasses."

Madam Martinique gave just the hint of a smile. "As head mistress, I do try to project a no-nonsense aura. On the other hand, when it comes to recounting my time with Aunt Jane, the memories do seem to have a somewhat rosy hue."

"You called her Aunt Jane?"

"Not at first, but eventually, yes."

"How did that happen?"

Just as she opened her mouth to speak, something started beeping in the folds of the head mistress's skirts. She set her cup and saucer back down on the table and pulled the offending object from a pocket. After reading the tiny display on the beeper, she looked up at Mary and said, "I'm afraid that will have to be another story to be told at another time."