Part One – Doll Play
“Gimme my doll,” the high-pitched whining voice pierced the quiet of the summer afternoon.

Terry Seager struggled to his feet to chase Laketta Randolph as she dodged between two houses, far too fast for the boy to catch her. As he lumbered after his fleet-footed friend, he could hear Sharon Campbell giggling behind him.

“You’ll never catch her, Terry,” Sharon called after him.

As he moved between the houses, he saw Laketta’s back disappear, and so he stopped, recognizing the futility of his effort.

He knew Laketta was just teasing him and would return with the doll, so he returned to join Sharon, who was still sitting Indian-style on the grass in the front of the Campbell home, an aging bungalow among other similar homes in a diverse neighborhood of the city. He sat down next to her, already breathing hard, even though his run had been a brief one. There were three dolls on the grass in front of Sharon, along with a selection of doll clothes.

“My sister will kill me if her doll gets ruined or 'Ketta will hide it,” the boy said.

“She’ll be back, Terry. She's just teasing you. It’s just that you were making such a fuss about keeping your Barbie in that prom dress. Laketta wanted to put the bikini on your doll,” Sharon said. “You shoulda let her.”

“I was afraid she’d tear the dress,” the boy said.

*****
The three children – all twelve years old and about to begin seventh grade when school began again in September – were constant friends during the long summer days. Terry knew it was a strange threesome, him being the only boy, and other boys in the neighborhood occasionally teased him for “playing with the girls.” For the most part, however, he was ignored by the boys, who were either beginning the gang-stage of their young lives or headed to play baseball or shoot baskets at the nearby school grounds.

Terry was frightened to join the gangs and he was too inept at sports to care about joining in the games that required more agility or strength than he could offer. Laketta and Sharon had enjoyed playing with Terry, who usually was cheerful and liked to clown around when he was with them. All three of them were from families in which there was no man in the house; their mothers all had day jobs and now that the three of them were twelve they were left pretty much on their own. Thus far, that had not been a problem, since they amused each other easily and, for the most part, innocently.

He didn’t mind playing with dolls, and usually borrowed his sister’s Barbie doll when the girls suggested that have a “doll day.” At first his sister Tanya, who was a year younger, wouldn’t let him borrow the doll; the fact was, however, that she hadn’t played with the doll for over a year, having become more of a tomboy.

After he continued pleading with her to borrow the doll so that he could join his friends, she finally gave in, telling him, “OK, little girl, you can play with it.”

“I’m not a little girl,” he yelled back at her.

“You are too.”

“I am not,” he said, his anger getting the best of him. He rushed at her, but she was too quick for him, and dodged to one side, tripping him so that he fell down on the floor. She pounced onto him, and even though she weighed less than he did she was able to pin him to the ground. He struggled unsuccessfully to push her off and he lay panting, already out of breath. Finally, she got up.

“I’m sorry, Terry. I shouldn’t have said those things,” his sister said. She handed the doll over to him.

The truth was that the two children loved each other; like all siblings they might have these spats, but Terry had really been more like a mother to his younger sister, making her meals and watching over her in their mother’s daily absences for work. In fact, he had slowly taken over most of the house-cleaning and clothes laundering, chores that he found strangely satisfying. His mother, of course, was thankful for his help, but she also told him that he should try to get Tanya to do her share.

“If you’d ask her, Terry, I think she’d do more around the house and then you could be outside playing ball or being with the other boys,” his mother said.

“That’s OK, mom. I like doing this and besides Tanya’s always outside and she’s always so busy that I hate to ask for her help,” he said.

“You’re such a sweetie, darling, but really she should do her share,” his mother said.

“OK, mom, I’ll ask her then,” he said, realizing that he probably wouldn’t push Tanya too hard to help out. The summer had become boring enough for him with his only friends being Laketta and Sharon, and they were often doing girl things together. Three mornings a week they were at a craft workshop at the recreation center and they told him it was only for girls. With only one video game friend as a boy to chum with, Terry found the household chores to be a great distraction.

Terry’s only constant boy friend was tall and awkward Albert Swendson. Like Terry, Albie (as he was called) was awful at sports; the two met at a picnic staged by the company for which both of their mothers worked. Their mothers were friends and the two boys met at the picnic where they found they both loved to play video games. They were discussing each one’s favorite game when one of the parents started shooing up the children for a volleyball game.

“Do you wanna play, Terry,” Albie had asked.

“Ah, I don’t know,” Terry replied.

Albie must have sensed Terry’s reluctance and said, “I don’t either.”

“That’s cool,” Terry replied, feeling relieved that he wouldn’t have to humiliate himself on the volleyball court.

Though the two boys lived more than a mile apart and attended different schools, they began meeting to play video games at least once a month, often driven on Saturdays to one or the other’s homes by their mothers.

*****
The fact was that in the last two years, Terry’s body had changed greatly, from that of a slender, light-framed boy to a soft somewhat chubby boy, a feat accomplished by a gain of 25 pounds through his fondness for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, chocolate chip cookies and ice cream and a lack of exercise. At his last visit to the doctor, he had been told he should watch his weight to avoid being obese, and that bothered him so much that he vowed he’d try to lose weight. So far he hadn’t begun to even try.

He hated looking at himself in the mirror, realizing that he’d see what purported to be a boy with a soft, flabby body. When he looked at himself one hot, muggy morning as he was mopping up the bathroom, he saw a girl looking back at him. She had long dirty blonde hair that flowed down past his shoulders and framed a round, soft face with full lips; the girl wore a perspiration-soaked tee-shirt that was plastered to her budding little breasts and rounded tummy.

Terry halted his work and looked more closely at the flush-faced image in the mirror. He flicked his hair away from his face, imitating a movement he’d seen Sharon often perform with her hair. The image smiled back at him and Terry put his hand on his hips in a coquettish manner, thrusting his chest forward so that his breasts stood out prominently with their nipples showing in the contours of the cotton tee-shirt.

“Hi there girl,” he said to the image in the mirror, moving into a series of girlish poses.

The girl smiled back, adding a flirty wave.

“You have such a pretty face, girl, but you should lose all that fat,” Terry said to the mirror.
With that he cupped both of his breasts, easily creating a cleavage that was obvious through the tight-fitting tee-shirt.

“What’s your name, pretty girl?” he said to the girl in the mirror.

“Theresa, but my friends call me Terri,” the girl said back.

Terry giggled in a high-pitched girlish voice. It was easily his natural voice since his voice hadn’t changed, unlike most of the boys in his class. In fact, in the 6th grade chorus he still sang with the sopranos, the only boy amidst the girls in the section.

“Terri, you are a lovely girl. Would you like to go to the dance Saturday night,” the boy asked the girl in the mirror.

“Oh yes, I’d be honored,” the image said back.

As Terry chatted with the image in the mirror, he discovered his small penis was hardening and growing longer. Not fully realizing what was occurring, he pressed the tiny member between his pudgy thighs in the hopes of suppressing it. But it only became harder and he found himself getting light-headed and a bit spacey.

As this was occurring he imagined himself as a girl, a soft, fleshy girl with real breasts. Soon the pain from his crotch became unbearable and suddenly he felt a rush of warm, sticky liquid gush out of his penis, staining his brief and the shorts he wore. Totally exhausted from the exercise, he sat down on the commode and breathed heavily. When he got his breath back, he felt ashamed; he finally realized this is what the other boys meant when they talked about “jacking off.” It was his first time, and as disorienting as it was, he found he liked it.

The girly image he saw in the mirror haunted him the rest of the day, even to the point that he mused about venturing into his mother’s room to find a bra and perhaps something to wear that would make him look like a girl. Yet, the idea of dressing into female clothes at first appalled him; wouldn’t doing so make him a pervert? He wasn’t quite sure what a pervert was, but he knew from the talk among other boys it was something to do with sex and doing weird and forbidden stuff. He wondered if he'd be such a pervert if he wore clothes of the opposite sex. Besides, while he knew his little sister Tanya was outside playing with friends and would likely be gone all afternoon he couldn’t count on it.

Hoping to get the idea of dressing like a girl out of his head, Terry decided to get to work doing the laundry, hoping the activity would cleanse his mind.

His mother had taught him how to handwash her lingerie, including her bras. To do so, he used the bathroom sink and he was about to dip one of her bras into the soapy water when he looked carefully at it. He examined the label, as she taught him to do to assure that he was using the appropriate washing process, and noticed for the first time its size: 34 B. His mother, who was a slightly framed woman, had modest breasts and he guessed that B meant the size of the cups.

Why not try it on? He held it up and looked at it and saw two clips that obviously were meant to hook it together.

He took off his shirt, exposing his soft, fleshy body and held the bra up before himself, trying to figure out how it went on. The two clips must hook in the back, he thought, and positioned the bra across his chest, trying to hook the two ends together behind his back. He struggled to get the two to meet and hook together, but failed. Finally, he brought it around and hooked the two ends up, and slid the bra back, bringing the cups in his front. One by one, he lifted each of his breasts into the cup. Each one easily filled the cup and he adjusted the bra upward slightly, creating the image of a real girl, complete with a crack between the two breasts and the showing of soft flesh oozing out of the top of each cup.

He posed himself in front of the mirror again, mimicking feminine gestures.

“What a pretty girl you are,” he said aloud, speaking into the mirror in his high girlish voice.

His reverie was soon ended when he realized he was still a boy, not a girl. A boy should be hard, strong and muscular, and his body surely had none of these traits. He took the bra off, sobered by his own pathetic physical weakness. He put his two arms up in a fruitless attempt to form a muscle in his bicep; try as he might nothing happened and the arms remained flat with soft flesh hanging from the bottom of his arms.

A few days later his pathetic maleness became clear when, during a bit of clowning around, Sharon challenged him to an arm wrestle. Thinking that because he was a boy he would easily pin her; while she was as tall as he was, she was also a girl still showing her adolescent baby fat so he felt that he would easily win the competition. Instead, he found his arm being pinned down to the picnic table where the sat within just a few seconds.

“Oh I’m sorry, Terry,” Sharon said immediately. “You were probably not ready.”

“Do you want to try again?” asked LaKetta, who had been watching the competition with interest.

“No, that’s OK. I guess you girls are just pretty strong,” he said.

He was grateful then to Sharon for quickly changing the subject and suggesting they get back to dressing their dolls and doing some play-acting with them. He loved the scenarios the three set up since they usually featured three fictional girls, much like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. LaKetta played Buffy, Sharon took Dawn’s part, usually leaving Terry to play Willow, the nerdy girl with a brain. LaKetta usually set up the scene, leaving the other two to work out a solution; sometimes, she took the role of being the vampire and the three children would get into mock fights, usually ending in giggles as they rolled around on the floor.

When they got back to the house, LaKetta decided she’d be the vampire, and after setting the scene, Sharon and Terry confronted the vampire and after trying to make each other “vaporize,” they ended up in a wrestling match with Sharon and Terry tackling a pinning LaKetta to the floor. In triumph Terry straddled over LaKetta while Sharon pinned the girl’s legs.

As he hovered over her, breathing heavily and sweating so that his tee-shirt was plastered to his skin, he noticed LaKetta staring at his chest.

“You have breasts like a girl,” she said.

“I do not,” he replied firmly, even though he knew she was right.

“They’re bigger than my breasts or Sharon’s,” she insisted.

Terry felt humiliated and released his hold on LaKetta and the three children got up off the floor; they stood and looked at each other for a minute without comment.

“I’ll get us some lemonade from the fridge,” Sharon said finally. “Let’s sit out on the porch and cool down.”

After they were seated on the plastic chairs on the back porch, sipping the lemonade, both Sharon and LaKetta said they were sorry for what they said. “You’re our bestest friend, Terry,” Sharon said;

LaKetta nodded in agreement.

“I know that, but I guess I should just lose some of this fat,” Terry said.

“You’re not too fat, Terry,” Sharon responded.

“I should still lose weight. I know that.”

“I don’t want to hurt you, but Terry, you’re just like another girlfriend to us,” LaKetta said.

“We love playing with you, Terry,” echoed Sharon.

“Yeah, and I mean this as a compliment, you really are girl in many ways and you do have the prettiest face,” LaKetta added.

Terry felt he should argue with the girls and say he was a boy through and through, but said nothing. He began to blush instead; for some strange reason, he liked the idea of being a girl.

“You’re just teasing me,” Terry finally said putting a feminine lilt to his already high voice. With that, he flung his hands up in a girlish manner and flicked his long hair with a dainty flourish.

“Look at that. You’re a girl already,” LaKetta giggled.

Playing along with them, Terry rose from his chair and walked about the porch in an exaggerated girlish way, even thrusting his chest out to emphasize that he had breasts.

“We should dress you up as a girl sometime, Terry,” Sharon said. “Then we could go down to the Hangout as three girlfriends.” The Hangout was – as the name suggested – an ice cream and snack place that had become a hangout for teens.

“No way,” he said, the idea both embarrassing him and intriguing him. “I’m a boy, remember.”

He stopped his cavorting and sat back down in the chair.

“My sister’s got clothes that will fit you,” Sharon said, referring to her older sister, Camilla, who was away at college and was a bit chunky in physique.

“No.”

“I don’t think we should do that to him, Sharon,” LaKetta said. “What if somebody realized our girlfriend was a boy?”

Sharon nodded her head in agreement.

Nothing more was said about the idea, but the prospect of being a girl probed at Terry’s mind as he walked home that evening for dinner.

*****
Terry actually was not grossly overweight. His basic bone structure was that of a slender person and any extra weight would show as softness, unless of course the person exercised heavily to put on muscle mass. He knew he should begin working out and seeking ways to create a more muscular body, but he truly did not like the boredom that came with repeated physical actions that created a more toned body.

He had failed so often in playing with other boys and providing any athletic competition that they usually ignored him or made fun of him.

“Why couldn’t I have been born a girl?” he began asking himself. More and more often recently he found he liked the idea of thinking of himself as being named Theresa or Terri with an “i” rather than Terrence or Terry with a “y”.

He couldn’t get LaKetta’s comment out of his thoughts; she clearly said: “you have the prettiest face.”

She was right, he realized that night as he brushed his teeth and prepared for bed. He looked closely into the mirror and imagined he was a girl; he pictured his full lips red with lipstick and his eyes highlighted with liner. He brushed his long blondish hair with a brush his mother had bought for him when he refused to get his hair cut.

He took his tee-shirt off and looked at his body, bringing his arms down to his sides, and pressing them against the sides of his chest, easily creating a cleavage that accentuated his breasts.

“Hi, Theresa,” he said to the pretty girl in the mirror. He smiled and he knew that Theresa was a very happy girl.

*****

“What can I get for you girls?” the lady inside the ice cream truck said. The three had ventured to the neighborhood park, where they knew the truck would be stationed.

“We’re not all gir . . . “ LaKetta began.

Terry poked her in the ribs, interrupting her sentence that was to reveal that he was a boy. The boy gave her a short shake of his head, and she took the hint and said quickly, “I want butter pecan. One scoop.”

“And you young lady?” she turned to Terry.

“Strawberry, double,” Terry said knowing he shouldn’t be having any ice cream at all if he ever hoped to lose weight. Yet, he wanted not one but two scoops of the fat-creating treat.

“Butter pecan, single,” said Sharon.

Sharon and LaKetta began laughing as the three walked from the ice cream truck licking their cones,

Terry working fast to lick the melting pile of ice cream. They headed to a nearby park bench, where they jammed together, Terry in the middle.

“What’s so funny?” Terry asked, feeling the two girls squeeze tightly against him.

“She thought you were a girl, Terry,” Sharon said.

“Why didn’t you want me to set her straight?” LaKetta said.

“I don’t know,” Terry said, his face growing flushed. “She doesn’t need to know. Do I really look like a girl?”

“Not really, Terry. She must have bad eyesight,” Sharon said, hoping she was making the boy feel better.

“Besides even if you do look like a girl, Terry, we both like you,” LaKetta said.

Terry smiled and then turned his attention to his melting cone; the day was so hot and the cone began dripping more heavily, dropping a splotch of pink ice cream on his tee-shirt, just on top of his left breast that protruded from under his tee-shirt.

LaKetta saw the splotch. “Let me wipe that off, Terry,” she said, taking a napkin and rubbing it over the tee shirt, her hand feeling the contour of his soft mound of flesh.

“Don’t,” Terry pleaded, even though he found the massaging of his breast to be exciting. He felt his nipples harden as she rubbed.

“All right, but I was just trying to help,” the girl said.

The three finished their cones and then began to walk home, talking about the coming school year. Both the girls were eager to start in the new school, but Terry felt threatened. He was frightened as to how the students in the large school would take to him; would they think he was a girl, too? Would he be bullied and beat up? He knew he wasn’t strong enough to stand up for himself.

“Girls always seem to have so much fun,” he said as they prattled on.

“I’ve seen boys having fun, too,” LaKetta argued.

“I guess so, but I just don’t seem to fit into them.”

“You fit in with us,” Sharon said.

“Just one of the girls, aren’t you?” LaKetta giggled.

Terry realized he must be blushing and without thinking he blurted out “I guess I shoulda been born a girl.”

“Then we’d be real girlfriends together,” the darker girl said.

“Let’s give you a girl’s name,” Sharon said.

“That’s easy. She’s already got a girl’s name. All she has to do is to spell her name with an ‘I’.”

“Terri with an ‘I,’” repeated Sharon. “What’s the full name of a girl named Terri?”

“Theresa,” Terry said quickly.

“You’ve already thought about this, I bet, Terri,” LaKetta said.

“Do you wanna dress up like a girl today, Terri?” Sharon asked.

“No, why would I want to do that?” he said.

“I think you’d like to be a girl. Half the time you’re taken for one as it is,” Sharon said.

“And you got breasts like a fourteen-year-old girl already, and you just turned twelve,” LaKetta said.

“Yeah, and your things are bigger than any girl in our class, too,” Sharon said.

“I bet we could make you a pretty girl,” LaKetta said, smiling.

Sharon said that we could go to her house; no one was at home and the girls could dress Terry up in her sister Camille’s clothes.

“No, I’m a boy,” Terry said. He realized he hadn’t stated his denial strongly enough, likely because he secretly wondered if he could really be dressed up to look like a real girl. A pretty one as LaKetta promised!

“Come on, Terri,” Sharon pleaded.

Part Two – The Dress-Up

“We could just play with your dolls, Sharon,” Terry said as they entered the house, hoping to get his two friends to forget about dressing him as girl.

“Awww, we’re getting too old to play with dolls,” LaKetta said.

“But we always have so much fun,” Terry persisted.

“That’s just for little girls, Terry,” the girl replied.

Terry knew she was right; girls of eleven and twelve were beyond the age of playing with dolls, but the truth was that Terry had always enjoyed the fantasizing that came with their playtime. For a while Terry was transfixed into thinking he was the doll in whatever role he had assumed. Usually, he was a little girl identified in the dream world as “Merrilee,” a name he chose one day for its melodious lilt.

The boy had even saved part of each week’s allowance money, hiding the extra nickels and dimes in one of the several boxes of baseball cards that he had hidden under shoes in his closet. One day while riding his bike he saw a rummage sale, noting that the family had laid out many items for girls, including toys and clothes. His eye quickly found a Barbie doll, almost perfect and dressed in a light blue prom dress. He told the pretty teen age girl that he wanted it for his sister’s birthday and she offered it to him for two dollars, which was half the marked price. “You’re a sweet brother,” she said, smiling.

The girl agreed to hold it for him for two hours while he peddled home to get his money. He was so excited he pedaled his bike faster than he had ever done before, returning in a sweat to pick up what was to become his prized possession. He stashed it in another box (also labeled “baseball cards”), placing it among the other boxes; he pulled it out when he was alone in his room.

Terry hoped his girlfriends would never lose interest in dolls, but it seemed on this day, at least, they had other plans.

“She’s just trying to get us to stop putting a dress on her,” Sharon said, using the female pronoun for Terry.

“Dolls are still fun,” Terry said, his face turning into a pout.

“Do we have a bra that fits her?” Laketta asked, reaching over to fondle the boy’s left breast.

“Hmmmm, she’s needs a big one, but I think I can find one in my sister’s room,” Sharon said, reaching out and cupping his right breast.

It didn’t take long for Sharon to return, holding two bras and what appeared to be girl’s panties. “I think she’d look good in this lacy one,” she said, dropping the clothes onto the bed while retaining a white, bra made of translucent lace in her hand.

“No, I won’t wear it and quit calling me she,” Terry said, his voice trailing off. He knew he hardly sounded convincing in his protests, since he secretly felt he might look quite nice in the lace bra.

“Aw, come on, Theresa, it’s just for fun and no one but us will know,” LaKetta said.

“No,” his voice came out weak.

Just then LaKetta reached over and began tickling him, running her fingers into his soft tummy, causing him to giggle uncontrollably. He doubled over and collapsed on the bed, helpless to fend off their tickling.

“No, stop,” he whined between his giggles that were now turning to tears.

“Not ‘til you say yes, Theresa,” LaKetta said, continuing her merciless tickling.

He finally nodded that he would put on the bra and panties and LaKetta halted her tickles. The two girls gave him one of the panties, a satiny turquoise one with lace at the top and a ribbon on the right front. They told him to go into the bathroom, take off his boy clothes and put on the panties.

“Come back and we’ll help you with put on the bra and the other clothes,” Sharon said.

“Give me the bra, I can put that on myself,” Terry said, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

“You can?” Sharon said.

“See, she’s done this before,” LaKetta said, giggling.

“No,” he protested vainly.

“You have, Theresa, don’t lie to us and you like doing it, don’t you?” she probed.

“Well, no . . .” he said hesitantly, his quickly reddening face betraying the truth of his protest.

Terry knew he had not fooled his girlfriends and they obviously suspected he enjoyed the idea of dressing like a girl.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” he said.

“No,” both girls said, almost in unison.

“Will you help me dress up pretty, then and not just like a boy in girl clothes?” he said, then.

“Let’s make Theresa the prettiest girl in the seventh grade,” Sharon said.

“She’s got all the makings of a girl, doesn’t she?” the other girl said.

Terry entered the bathroom, took off his boy clothes and put on the panties and bra. Thanks to the practice he had at home with his mother’s bras, he was able to hook the bra in the back and then carefully packing his soft, fleshy breasts into the cups of the bra. He took a minute to admire his soft, pink body in the mirror, his breasts filling out the bra and his white tummy with its love handles oozing from the top of the panties’ elastic.

He had always hated to go shirtless since his body was so pathetically nonathletic; no boy should have breasts as he had. Yet, now as he looked in the mirror he saw a girl and everything appeared so natural.

Just then the bathroom door opened and LaKetta entered, catching him admiring his image in the mirror.

“Hey there,” Terry protested.

“We wondered what was keeping you so long, Theresa, and now we know,” she said, turning to yell back at her friend, “Sharon, you gotta see this girl.”

“Come on,” he pleaded again.

“Wow, she’s hot,” Sharon said.

“Yeah, but we gotta do something about that tummy,” LaKetta said.

“She needs a corset, and I think Camille has some in her drawer,” the other girl said, referring to her sister.

Sharon left the room, announcing she’d return soon.

“Theresa, I love how you enjoy being a girl,” LaKetta said as they left the bathroom to await Sharon’s return. “You really do, don’t you?”

Terry wasn’t sure how to answer that. He was concerned his friends would think he was overly strange or might want to drop him as a friend. Worse yet, they may want to expose his girly behavior to their schoolmates.

LaKetta was not to be deferred. “Theresa, really, you always seem to love to play dolls with us and do girl things. I know you do. You’re just one of us girls and we treat you as a girl, too, don’t we?”

The boy stood there in the panties and bra, his arms hugging himself. He was beginning to feel chilly, the home’s air conditioning system cooling the place.

“I like playing with you,” he said finally.

“I bet you’d like to be a girl for real, too,” the girl said.

He smiled back at her. She knew his secret.

“It took me time to find her corsets. Since Camille lost weight, she doesn’t wear them anymore,” Sharon said, bouncing into the room holding several garments in her arms. Terry looked at the two items in horror; as much as he wanted to reduce the size of his tummy, he didn’t think he wanted to do it so that he’d be in torture.

“No, let’s forget the corset,” he said.

“No way, you want a nice girlish figure, don’t you?” Sharon said.

“No, forget it,” he said, shaking his head in a vigorous negative manner.

“Come on, Terry, I know you wanna be a pretty girl,” LaKetta said.

The girl reached over and started tickling him, and as soon as he tried to squirm away, Sharon caught him and held him. LaKetta’s fingers continued tickling until he collapsed helplessly onto the floor, trying to curl up in defense.

“OK, OK, I’ll wear it,” he finally said, bringing an end to the tickling. He knew he was helpless to resist the two girls.

Terry balanced himself by holding one hand on Sharon’s shoulder and stepped into the corset that she held in front of him; it had been laced loosely but the two had to wrestle it up over his wide hips. Finally it was settled in place, and LaKetta got behind him to lace it tightly.

“Not so tight,” he whined, finding his breath suddenly restricted.

“Quit your complaining girl,” Sharon said, as she pulled it tight.

“Owwww,” the moan came from him.

“There,” Sharon said triumphantly.

“I can’t breathe,” he complained.

“You’ll get used to it, Theresa,” Sharon said.

“Now you know what girls have to go through to look pretty,” LaKetta added.

“And, wow, what a hot figure this girl has!” her friend said.

Though he was still struggling to breathe easily, Terry began to feel a rare excitement; it seemed like his friends had created a girl, and he was her! He looked down to see his tummy, but saw it was gone. Instead, he looked down upon protruding breasts, soft white mounds of flesh that had been pushed up, creating an even more defined cleavage. Suddenly the breasts that had shamed him in his boy’s life were a measure of a girl's pride.

“Let me see!” he said, wanting to be led to the full length mirror.

“Why not?” LaKetta said.

“No, wait,” Sharon said. “Let’s put this dress on first. She needs to see the finished product.”

She held up an emerald green dress, layered dress, with a lace skirt and a fitted bodice. It was a sleeveless dress and as she held it up against Terry he could see it would come down only to mid-thigh.

LaKetta giggled. “Theresa’s going to look so pretty in that.”

“Oh my God, it’s so girly, just perfect,” her friend said.

“I can’t wear that,” Terry protested.

“Why not? It’s so darling,” Sharon said. “My sister looked so pretty in it.”

“It’s just . . . ah . . . ah . . . well, it shows too much of me,” he said.

Terry was always self-conscious about his fleshy arms and heavy thighs and he always wore clothes that covered them. When he went swimming, which he rarely did because of his embarrassing body, he always wore a tee-shirt, explaining untruthfully that he burned easily.

“That’s what boys like to see, and you’ll be just the hottest girl, believe me, Theresa,” LaKetta said.

“Now, before we put the dress on her, let’s fix her hair,” Sharon said, putting the dress on a hanger that she then put on a hook on the closet door.

“She has pretty hair, doesn’t she?” LaKetta asked, as she brushed Terry’s dark blonde hair so that it hung freely and straight down to his shoulders.

Sharon put a dark green hairband over the top of his head and then fixed a few strands to create a bang across his forehead. They finished off the process by putting some light foundation on his face with a bit of rouge that added pink to his cheeks.

“She’s too young for lipstick, I think,” Sharon said.

“Yes, put let’s put some gloss on the lips, anyway, Sharon,” LaKetta said.

Terry sat patiently as the girls worked over him, fussing with his hair and makeup; they talked constantly about how pretty a girl he was becoming. He knew he should be feeling humiliated; after all he was a boy, wasn’t he? Yet, he felt so totally at ease, realizing for the first time in his life that his physical self was being praised for being pretty and beautiful instead of pathetic and ugly. Terry realized, too, that as they talked about him he blushed.

“Look at her blush,” Sharon said at one point.

“I do not,” he protested.

“You do too, and that’s so cute. Boys like to see that in a girl,” LaKetta said.

“I’m not a girl. I’m a boy, besides we’re all too young to date,” he said finally.

“Maybe, maybe not,” LaKetta said. “You’ll still excite the boys, I’ll bet.”

The girls ended their fussing over him and finally had him stand so that they could pull the dress down over his head. It seemed a little tight at first, but once the two girls finally pulled it down fully and adjust it, the dress felt comfortable for the boy.

“Let me see now,” he said.

“No, first we need to find some shoes for you,” Sharon said.

She ran to a closet and soon emerged with a pair of white Mary Janes. “These should fit,” she announced.

Terry sat down on the bed, as ordered, and held out each foot as the girls put them on his feet. With the corset on, he realized he’d have trouble bending over to get the shoes on.

“Now, let’s see what you look like,” Sharon said, grabbing Terry’s hand and leading him over to the mirror.

Terry took his time focusing on the girl in the mirror, afraid that he’d see a monstrosity. Finally he looked and stood in awe at the image before him.

“Is that me?” he asked.

“Yes, pretty one,” LaKetta said.

Terry smiled at the image, receiving a smile in return. He struck a girlish pose, even using one hand to pull up the dress slightly, exposing a bit more of the white flesh of his thigh.

“You girls are such artists,” Terry said finally.

“It was easy. We had good material. You’re really just a girl anyway, Theresa,” Sharon said.

“Now you’re really one of us,” LaKetta said.

“She always was one of us, Laketta.”

“I’m a girl,” he said.

The three girls hugged together, with Theresa in the middle. She was smiling.

*****

Sharon got out her cell phone, held it up and took a “selfie” of the three of them hugging. They giggled in high-pitched voices as they posed for the phone’s camera; Sharon kept clicking until they had perhaps a dozen shots.

“Now, Terri, you go over there, by the vanity, and let me take a picture of you,” Sharon ordered.

“Wait a minute,” Theresa said. “What are you going to do with these pictures?”

“Nothing other than send them on to both of you.”

“I don’t want them showing up on Facebook or something,” the pretty girl said.

“No, it’s just our little secret.”

Terri moved to the vanity, sat down on the lace-draped bench, careful to smooth his dress from behind so as not to muss it. He assumed a girlish pose, keeping his knees together and moving them to the side. He clasped his hands together on his lap, assuming a demure, lovely sight.

“She knows just how to sit,” LaKetta said. “What a girl!”

When Sharon had finished the picture-taking, she shared the results with her two friends. Terri was excited by the results; in each picture, she saw three pretty girls, with the loveliest being, she thought in a vain moment, that it was she. The photos portrayed the former Terrence as a lovely young teen girl, maybe even two or three years older than her real age.

“She should be a model,” LaKetta gushed.

Terri laughed, “Yeah for the juniors plus section.”

“No, no,” protested Sharon. “It’s just baby fat. It’s normal for girls of your age.”

“Too bad, there’s no place to go now that Theresa’s all dressed up,” LaKetta said. “We can’t go to the Hangout like this. She’s dressed too fancy for that.”

“I know and it’s a shame,” said the other girl.

“I’m not going out in this,” Theresa protested. “Everyone will laugh. I’ll look ridiculous. Like a boy in a dress.”

“No they won’t. They’ll just see another teen girl,” said LaKetta.

“If they notice you at all, they’ll just see a pretty girl,” Sharon said.

“Really?” she asked, glancing in the mirror again. She smiled when she saw her reflection; she definitely looked to be a girl . . . and a most girly girl, too.

“Yes, really, Theresa,” Sharon said. “And I can tell any of our friends that you’re a friend from another school.”

The girls gave Terri a few tips on how to hide any of her few remaining boyish mannerisms such as a tendency to take long strides when she walked. They taught her to sit properly, though she had already seemed to master that feminine action.

“She takes to this girly stuff easily,” LaKetta said.

“She’s more girly than either of us,” Sharon giggled.

“I am not,” she argued.

“You are, Theresa, and you know it. You even curl up when you sit, just like a girl, and you move your hands about like a girl,” LaKetta said.

“I love how you curl your hair in your fingers. Only girls do that,” Sharon added. Theresa knew her friends were right. Her mother had told Terrence numerous times to quit the practice of flicking her hair, saying that it was something only girls did.

“You’re spending too much time with girls, and you’re beginning to act like them,” her mother had said. Also threatening to take her to a barber shop for a “real haircut.”.

“They’re my friends,” Terri had argued.

“I know and they’re nice girls, but I wish you’d spend time with boys,” she said.

Terri, of course, continued to spend time with Sharon and LaKetta; many times several other girls might join them and the gaggle of them might prance down the street, Terri among them, indistinguishable from the other girls, with his flowing dirty blonde hair and effeminate mannerisms.

The girls debated whether to take Theresa out in public, finally agreeing that Terri would need to change out of the dress. She was relieved when they said she could take off the corset. She changed bras, putting on a push-up bra that helped to accentuate the natural cleavage of her breasts. The girls went into Camille’s room and brought out a light blue skater skirt and a pink, cap-sleeved tee-shirt with the words “Tender – Do Not Touch” emblazoned across the front.

“My sister won’t care,” Sharon said. “She’s lost weight and doesn’t wear this stuff anymore.”

“But my tummy shows now,” Terri protested.

“That’s all right, Theresa,” LaKetta said. “Now you look like half the girls in our class with their tummies.”

It was true, Terri realized, both boys and girls go through changes as they hit twelve to thirteen years old, many taking on chubby tummies that most will lose as they mature.

“And look how fat my thighs are,” she exclaimed, worried that the skirt was too short.

“They’re not fat, Theresa. Boys like a girl with legs like yours,” LaKetta said.

“You sound just like a girl,” Sharon giggled.

Part Three – The Hangout

The three girls glided down the walk, taking short steps as they walked; two of them wore tight shorts that exposed slender pretty legs while the other, a bit chubbier, was sandwiched between the two. She wore a skater skirt that exposed nearly as much leg as the other two. One of the girls was African-American and had braided her hair tying it in tiny blue ribbons while the other two girls both had their hair fixed in high ponytails that bounced through the backs of their baseball caps as they moved toward the Hangout.

Theresa, the girl in the middle, felt naked, though she was in fact more modestly dressed than the other two. She was terrified since she had always been ashamed of her body and usually wore clothes – even on the hottest of days – that covered her completely. Now she was going into the Hangout where she’d obviously see other kids from her school and neighborhood.

“I don’t wanna go dressed like this,” she pleaded as they turned the corner, heading to the hamburger and ice cream joint that specialized in serving teens.

“Yes, you do, Terri,” LaKetta, the African-American girl, said.

“You’re so hot,” echoed her friend, Sharon.

Terri had no choice; both girls held firmly onto each of her hands, moving her along. She went along in nervous anticipation hoping against hope that no one in the place would realize she was in reality the boy named Terry. After repeated convincing comments by her two friends that she looked “all girl” and that “no one could see a boy” she agreed to go out as Theresa.

“You want to do this, Terri,” LaKetta said. “I know you do.”

“I guess,” Terri said, her fear of being discovered overridden by a desire to be accepted as a pretty young girl. She loved how she looked after her two friends had turned her into Theresa.

It was a hot day, and most of the outside tables (all shaded by umbrellas designed with luscious-looking ice cream goodies) were filled with a mixture of young teens, some youngish mothers with their tots and a few grandmas and grandpas, also with young children.

“Hey LaKetta, over here,” a tall boy with dreadlocks yelled as the three girls entered the patio area.

“Hi Darius . . . we’ve found a table here,” she yelled back, as she led the three to a vacant table.

“Let’s sit here. Darius is fifteen and he’s been pestering me for the whole year,” she explained.

As they three sat down on the plastic chairs, Terri looked at the neighboring table where three boys about their same age were sitting. They were closely eyeing the three girls. One of the boys she recognized immediately; he was Albie Swendson, a boy Terry had often chummed with, the two having become regular video game competitors. Certainly, Terri reasoned fearfully, Albie would recognize the girl as the boy formerly known as Terry.

“Those guys are looking at us,” Sharon said, tipping her head in the direction of the three boys.

“Nah, their eyes are on Theresa here,” LaKetta said, beginning to giggle.

Terri was horrified; twelve- and thirteen-year-old boys were notorious for doing crazy stuff to attract the attention of girls. To think that she would be the particular attention of such boys scared her. She worried about what they might do to make a scene and expose her charade? She turned her chair putting her back to the boys.

"Don't pay any attention to those boys," Terri said.

"Let's not tease Theresa," Sharon said to LaKetta. "Oh, and look who's coming?"

The girls look up to see Darius at the table, accompanied by another boy whom they recognized as Desmond Floren, a boy who was younger that Darius and was a year ahead of the girls in school.

"Why do you ignore me, LaKetta?" Darius asked, showing his anger.

"You're too old for me, Darius," the girl responded pointedly.

"He just wanted to ask you something, LaKetta," Desmond interjected obviously to support the older boy.

"Yeah, what is that Darius?" she asked. Her expression signified her annoyance with the boy.

"That picture on Facebook? It looks like this girl," he said, pointing at Terri.

"What picture on Facebook?" Terri asked angrily, turning to Sharon. "I thought you weren't going to post those pictures."

"I didn't." Sharon said quickly. "You gotta believe me."

"Who posted those, Darius?" LaKetta asked.

"I think it was Sharon's cousin, Emma," the boy answered.

"Oh my God," Sharon said. "I thought I told her those were private."

Darius drew out his phone, punched it a few times and then turned its face to show the three girls. "See, there it is," he said.

The image showed Terri between her two friends. She was wearing the emerald green dress and was clearly the center of attention. The words under the picture read, "My cousin Sharon with her two friends. Aren't they the prettiest ever?"

"We've never seen you before," Darius said, directing his question toward Terri.

Sharon answered, saving Terri from trying to explain her existence. "This is my friend, Theresa. I met her at summer camp and she's visiting me," she said. Sharon turned to Terri and gave her a discreet wink.

Terri hoped neither of the boys knew that Sharon had never been to a summer camp in her life and would expose her obvious lie.

"OK, I just wanted to be sure, LaKetta. You're sure you don't wanna go out with me sometime?" Darius asked.

"No, Darius, no leave us."

"I bet Desmond here would like to go out with Theresa or Sharon. It could be a double date," the boy pressed.

"Just leave us Darius," LaKetta said.

"OK, you don't know what you're missing," Darius said with a twinkle. The two boys left.

The three girls huddled together then, hoping to avoid any further confrontations. Sharon turned to Terri and apologized for sharing the photo with her cousin. Terri quickly said she'd forgiven her friend, even though he was worried someone might figure that the pretty girl in the green dress was really a boy named Terrence.

They talked quietly among themselves before LaKetta observed, "Those boys in that other table have been really eyeing us."

“And one those boys over there is watching you, Theresa,” Sharon said.

“Don’t look at them, Sharon, please,” Terri said. “I knew it was a mistake to come here. I’ll be found out.”

“You won’t, Theresa. I swear. No boy would see anything but a girl.” LaKetta put a reassuring hand on Terri’s arms.

“I know that one boy there, Albie. I can’t let him see me,” Terri said.

“Who? The tall kid? He seems most interested in you Theresa,” Sharon said.

“That’s him,” she nodded.

“We need to order something,” LaKetta said, getting up from the table. “What do’ya want? I’ll go get it and you two can hold the table.”

Theresa ordered a chocolate shake and turned to Sharon who said she wasn’t sure what she wanted and volunteered to go with LaKetta to assist in bringing their orders back to the table.

“OK, and Theresa, you better stay here and hold our table,” LaKetta said, grabbing Sharon by the hand and marching off to put in their orders.

“No, please, don’t leave me here,” Theresa said, but her voice was lost in the din of the Hangout’s crowd noise.

As she watched her friends move to the counter, she realized that Albie was looking directly at her. Their two eyes connected a flash of recognition obviously registering in the boy’s eyes. Terri quickly averted the gaze, turning her back to the boy, terror reigning in her mind.

Suddenly she felt ridiculous as if she was again an ugly boy with breasts, trying to look like a girl. She imagined the three boys were giggling among themselves and that Albie would soon realize that she was really Terrence his video game competitor friend. He could see Albie standing up in the middle of the Hangout and yelling to the other teenagers (as well as the mothers and grandmas who were also there with children) that the fat thing sitting at the table was a silly boy named Terrence and not a girl. He could hear in his mind the whole place laughing and then when school started in a few weeks he’d be the subject of mean teases in the hallways.

“Ah . . . sorry to bother you . . . but . . . ah.” Terri recognized Albie’s voice. He was standing over the table and had put his hand gently on her shoulder.

“What do you want?” Terri said, not looking up.

“I’m sorry, but I didn’t mean to freak you out,” Albie said.

“You didn’t,” she mumbled.

“I did and I’m sorry. I couldn’t help but . . . ah . . . look at you. You are so pretty,” Albie said, his words coming out haltingly.

Terri could hardly believe the boy’s words; she knew Albie to be shy and that during their video game sessions the two had discussed whether they’d ever be able to get up the courage to approach a girl. The two boys had realized that they were getting to the age when boys were expected to have girlfriends and both confessed to feeling they were not very good-looking and that no girl could possibly be interested in them. Terry was too fat and unmuscular while Albie was thin and gangly with an acne-marked face. Now here was Albie approaching her as if she were an attractive girl.

“What do you want?” Terri said, still looking down at the table.

“Won’t you talk to me?” Albie asked.

“Why should I?”

“Won’t you even look at me? I’m not that ugly.”

Terri thought that was funny and tried unsuccessfully to hold back a giggle, remembering how the boy had always characterized himself as “ugly” in the past during their video sessions. She remembered how she argued with him then saying he had a nice face and a nice smile; even now she thought him sort of “cute,” even with his acne.

Terri finally looked up at him. “No, you’re not ugly,” she said, beginning to smile at the boy.

“Thank you. I just wanted to say ‘hi’ to you and also that I think we must have met before,” he said looking down at her.

“No,” she said, her heart beginning to pound, fearing that Albie would soon recognize her. She turned her face away from him to concentrate upon the contours of the plastic table top.

“Sorry to have bothered you,” the boy said.

Without further comment the boy left, returning to his table. Terri continued to keep her back to him and even in the din of the place she could hear the three boys discussing the girls. She even caught the words, “lesbians” and “she’s hot” and “I know I know her,” coming from the boys. Terri had never been so scared in her life. Why can’t Sharon and LaKetta get back here now? What’s keeping them?

*****

It seemed like an eternity, but Terri’s girlfriends eventually returned with the drinks. “Those guys are really interested in us,” Sharon said as she placed Terri’s shake in front of her and sat down.

“Did I see that tall kid over talking to you?” LaKetta asked.

“Yes, he was,” Terri said. She spoke in a soft mumbled tone so that her two friends had to lean in close to her to hear.

“What’d he want?” LaKetta looked quizzically at Terri.

“He said I was pretty and he thinks he knows me,” Terri said, adding quickly, “And he does; he’s a kid I play video games with all the time. I’m scared he’ll figure me out.”

“Oh my god!” exclaimed LaKetta.

“But he still thinks you’re a girl, right?” her friend said.

Terri nodded, her face flushing up as she realized how much of a girl she had become – at least to the outside world. She liked the idea!

“We should go to the mall sometime,” LaKetta suggested, fortunately changing the subject.

“Yeah, Terri should get her own bra and panties and stuff,” Sharon added.

“No way,” Terri objected. “This is just a onetime experiment.”

“Why should it be? You’re a hot girl, Terri. Admit it!” Sharon said.

“No. I’m a boy, remember!”

“Not that I can see,” Sharon said, beginning to giggle.

“And those guys think the same, that tall one is still eying you up and down, girl,” LaKetta said.

“Hey, they’re getting up to leave now,” LaKetta said.

“And they’re coming over here,” her friend said.

Terri tried to keep her head down, hoping not to show her face to Albie, who was soon hovering over her, accompanied by his friends.

“What school you all go to?” he asked.

“We’re entering Hamilton this semester,” LaKetta volunteered.

“Oh, too bad, I’d hope to see you around, we’re going to Grant,” Albie said. “I’m Albert, but my friends call me Albie, and my buddies are Jay and Frankie.”

Still keeping her head down, Terri looked sideways toward LaKetta trying to signal her to get rid of the boys, but the girl seemed eager to engage them further.

“I’m LaKetta, and this here is Sharon and I think you’ve already met Theresa,” LaKetta said.

“I hardly met her since she would hardly talk to me, much less look at me,” the boy said.

“Oh Terri is just shy and her mom’s real strict so she’s not supposed to date boys or anything ‘til she’s sixteen,” Sharon said.

Terri smiled at her friend, pleased to hear she was being given an excuse.

“Oh you call her Terri. That’s a sweet name for a sweet girl,” Albie said. “I wish she’d talk to me.”

Just then the boy named Jay interjected. “Come on Albie, can’t you see she’s not interested? Let’s go.”

“Hmmmmmmm, Terri,” Albie began. “I really think we’ve met somewhere before. Well, hope we meet again anyway.”

The boys left and Terri let out a sigh of relief. “That was so close,” she said. “I hope he never figures it out.”

“Now you know what girls have to go through, Terri,” Sharon said.

“Yeah. Do I really look like a real girl?”

“How many times do we have to tell you that?” LaKetta asked. “I bet you like being a girl.”

“No,” she protested.

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes,’” LaKetta said, beginning to giggle.

Terri turned away, afraid to admit even to herself, that she liked the idea, if even it was just for one day.

*****

Back at home that evening, having been restored to his boy identity by the girls, Terry was shocked to get a text message from Albert Swendson.

"Do have a girl cousin?"

"Why?" Terry texted back.

"Saw pretty girl looked like you."

"Not my cousin She in Oregon."

"Her pic on FB. Check it, OK?

"I will."

"Can I call u?"

"Sure."

Within a minute, Albie was on the phone. "Yeah, the picture is event floating around Facebook and it shows her with Sharon and LaKetta, the girls you hang out with, Terry. What's with that?"

"I dunno," Terry lied to his friend.

"You should. You told me you couldn't play that Monster game with me 'cause you had something to do with those girls. Remember?"

Terry was uneasy, as his friend pressed on. "When I saw that Facebook picture, I began thinking that that girl looked just like you, if you had a dress on."

"I didn't see the picture," Terry continued to lie.

"That was you, wasn't? That's why you wouldn't look at me at the Hangout. 'Fess up, Terry."

Terry didn't say anything.

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone if you don't want me to," Albie said.

"Thanks, Albie," Terry said finally admitting he was the pretty girl at the Hangout and in the picture.

"You were really pretty and you really looked like a girl. You were hot."

"It was just for fun. Sharon and LaKetta forced me," Terry explained. "Never again."

""Why not? You should."

"I can't never, never, never," Terry said, his voice rising in excitement.

"Don't say never, Terry. I think you liked being a girl. You seemed to be giggling right along with Sharon and LaKetta," Albie said, following with a laugh.

Terry thought back to those few moments at the Hangout when he and his two girlfriends were giggling and chatting together. He felt so comfortable and welcomed as part of the group, just as if he were one of them.

"I can't really. Can you imagine how I'll be teased in school?"

"You're so beautiful as a girl, Terry. I'd be afraid to ask you out. A girl like you wouldn't be seen dead with an ugly guy like me," Albie said.

"You're not ugly, Albie. You're a nice guy. I'd be happy for you as my date," Terry said, immediately wishing his words hadn't come out as they did. In his haste to protest his friend's self criticism, he'd been careless in speaking.

"You would, Terry, dress up and be pretty and be my date? You mean it."

"No, no, no," Terry protested. "I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that any pretty girl would like being with you. I'm not a girl."

Albie laughed. "You fooled me this afternoon. Really, think about. We have a school dance coming up next month."

"In your dreams, Albie. Let's play that new game soon, OK. As two boys."

"OK, maybe next Wednesday after school," Albie said.

"See ya' in school on Monday."

"Bye, girlfriend," Albie teased.

"Shut up," Terry replied, giggling as he did.

The call ended.

*****

“You’re so lovely in that dress, Theresa,” her mother said.

Terri examined herself in the mirror; she wore a lovely dress in black, providing a touch of elegance. Its feathery lace formed a flouncy scalloped skater dress ending at mid-thigh with a sheer mesh yoke above the bodice accentuating the girl’s blossoming bosom. It was a sleeveless dress exposing the girl’s soft fleshy arms.

She wore a short heeled pair of crème-colored sandals the exposed her toenails, painted in a blush pink, matching her fingernails and lips. Terri had been given a manicure and pedicure in the salon earlier in the day and her hair was piled fashionably on the top of her head.

“You’re just twelve, Terri,” her mother said after Terri complained that color of her nails and lips was too dull. “You’re too young for nails or lips in any striking color.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“I don’t want you looking like a wild girl,” her mother said.

“I hope Albie likes me in this,” the girl said, twirling about, checking herself from different angles in the mirror.

“He will, honey,” her mother said.

“But mommy, I’m so fat,” the girl said, patting her tummy.

“Just a little, but the dress makes you look so nice and hides that little bit of a tummy you have. You have a very nice figure, dear.”

If Albert Swendson saw her as too fat, he failed to show it when he stopped to pick her up for the middle school’s fall dance. Albie was driven by his mother and Terri’s mother would ride along since both mothers were among the many chaperones at the dance that was held in the early evening so that the children could be home by ten o’clock.

“Here,” Albie said, thrusting a corsage into her hand as Terri ushered the boy into the Seager living room.

The boy wore a dark suit with a white shirt and tie, but looked a bit awkward. Terri however saw him as tall and handsome.

For a minute, the two children looked at each other, uncertain what to say. Finally, Terri said in stiff, formal voice, “Albert, you are so handsome.”

Terri could see the boy blush, but the fact was he was handsome. His face was free of the acne that had once marred his face and he had developed graceful movements having grown out of his earlier awkwardness. She yearned to be walking into the dance arm-and-arm with him.

Finally the boy spoke: “Terri you’re so beautiful.”

The dance was a blur in Terri’s mind, even though she knew that neither she nor Albie were particularly adept at dancing. They blundered into other couples on the floor and Albie kicked her feet more than once and always profusely apologized. Terri knew she might have bruised toes at the end of the night but she didn’t care; she loved being with the tall boy.

At a few minutes before ten, Albert Swendson led Terri Seager to the door of her home as their two mothers stood in the background, both full of pride at the sight of their two beautiful children. At the door, Terri looked up at Albert her lips poised for a kiss. . .

*****

“Terry, wake up,” he heard his mother said. “You’ll be late for school.”

“Wha . . . Wha . . .” the boy exclaimed, still awaiting the good night kiss from Albert.

“Terry, you must be dreaming. Get up. It’s six-thirty. You have to get out for the school bus by seven-twenty.”

His mother shook him again, and the boy looked up, seeing only a hazy image and wondering when he was going to be kissed by the young man. He finally realized the young man was gone. Terry was confused and he looked blankly at his mother wondering what he was doing in his pajamas that portrayed a football them. Shouldn’t he have been in a pretty pink baby doll nightgown or some other dainty feminine outfit?

“You were all smiles, son. That must have been some dream, Terry,” his mother said.

“Huh?” the boy replied only now coming to his senses.

“Care to tell your mother about it, Terry?”

“Ah, no, mom. That’s all right. I’ll get up.”

“Time for dreaming is over. It’s back to school for you young man.”

Unlike most boys and girls of his age, Terry usually got out of bed promptly and rarely had to be chided to “hurry up.” He always liked to follow rules particularly to assure that he would never be late, perhaps because he was afraid to call attention to himself. Once he realized he was no longer about to be kissed and that he was Terrence (and not Theresa), he got up. His mother left the room feeling confident that the boy would be ready in time to get the school bus.

He rummaged in his closet – which was neatly organized – to get his clothes for the day, he spied the three shoes boxes that he had neatly labeled “Baseball Cards.” He carefully pulled the bottom box out, opened it and looked into to it.

He smiled broadly as he looked at a Barbie Doll, dressed in a lovely lace dress; it was the same black gown that Theresa had worn while dancing in the dream with Albie. He loved dressing the pretty doll in his private moments; he had bought the doll at a rummage sale that summer with his allowance money, saying it was for his little sister.

He slowly and daintily replaced the doll in his makeshift cradle, covered the box and replaced it in his closet buried beneath the baseball cards he never looked at any more. Terrence Seager knew that Theresa would always be a part of his life.