Judy was very excited. “You’ve got to come over after school and see! It’s so exciting!”

“What is?”

“You’ll see. Just come over, please!” she implored.

“OK, OK.” So began my journey of 10,000 miles.

When I got to Judy’s house, she led me to her room and showed me the newspaper. Not many 8th graders read the newspaper, but Judy does – every day. She handed me the paper and pointed to a small article on page 12. It was about Margret McFee, the widow of the Internet millionaire. She’d died and left $10,000,000 to Braintree Academy for merit scholarships for girls from under-funded schools.

“Isn’t that exciting?”

It took me a second, then I put two and two together. Braintree was the best high school in the state – well for girls, anyway – and now Judy, who was as bright as they come, might be able to go. “That’s great, Judy! Now you have a chance to go Braintree – a really great chance. I bet you’re the smartest girl in the county and Emerson sure is under-funded, so you’re sure to win a scholarship if you apply! I’m so happy for you.” I hugged her – my heart filled with joy for her. It would really change her life. Over 90% of Braintree girls got into Ivy League universities.

Tears welled in my eyes. Partly they were tears of joy for Judy, and partly, I realized, tears of sadness. Braintree was a boarding school on the other side of the state. I’d be loosing my best friend.

“It’s not just for me, George. You could go too.”

“Judy, who wouldn’t want to got to Braintree? But, it’s a girl’s school, and the scholarships are for girls.”

“You didn’t read the whole article. Read here, near the end.”

“Ms. McFee, long an advocate for gender equality, selected Braintree not only for its academic excellence, but for its leadership in gender equality. While it is not generally known, many of Braintree’s 1200 students are transgender, having been born male. The school declined to specify the number of transgender students currently enrolled.”

“I Googled it this morning. You don’t have to be a girl to apply for a scholarship! We can go together! Isn’t that exciting?”

I was in shock.

She continued, “We’re always trading between numbers one and two. If I can win a scholarship, so can you!”

“Judy, Judy, Judy! I don’t feel like a girl born in a boy’s body. I’d never qualify as transgendered. It would be a lie!”

“Come over here.” She took my hand and led me to the old computer on her desk. “I bookmarked it. Here. Read there,” she said pointing.

“Scholarships are open to genetic and transgender girls. Transgender girls are persons who, though born male, express themselves by dressing and acting as girls.”

“See?”

“See what?”

“You already act like a girl – me! We like the same things and except that you stand to pee, we do the same things. That’s why we’re such good friends – and frankly, it’s why Joe Valdez and his gang call you a sissy.”

I didn’t want to admit it, but, actually, my mom made me sit to pee at home – so as not to make a mess.

“Well, we may act the same, but I sure don’t dress like a girl!”

“That’s easily remedied. I can give you my old training bras and the panties I out grew when my hips got bigger – and a blouse and skirt or two.”

“You could, but I’m not a sissy. I won’t do it!”

“I never said you were a sissy! But, if you won’t apply, neither will I. I won’t go off and leave you. Remember when those feral dogs were chasing us and I sprained my ankle? You wouldn’t leave me – and I won’t leave you.”

This may all seem rather silly, but it was in deadly earnest. Ralph Waldo Emerson Elementary is in the worst school district in the state. Cantwell, the high school we’re bound for, has a dropout rate of almost 50% and college admission rate of under 10% – most of it to junior colleges. Also 2-3 students are shot each year. Judy and I have been thinking for years about how to go someplace else. Now Judy had her chance.

“Judy, you’ve got to apply! You can’t go to Cantwell.”

“I’m not applying unless you do.”

“I’m not dressing like a girl!”

“Why not? Sacrifices must be made.”

“You know why not – I’d be beaten to a pulp.”

“We’ll think of a way.”

I went home with a lot to think about and black plastic bag of Judy’s clothes.

When I got home I did my homework. Even though it was boring stuff I already knew, I did it because one third of our grade was based on homework. Next, I made dinner for mom and me – chili and beans with fried tortilla chips.

After mom and I exchanged greetings, she washed up as usual. I served her, then joined her and we said grace. “George, what’s the black bag in the living room?”

“It’s a present from Judy and something we need to talk about.” I told her the whole story about Ms. McFee, Braintree, the scholarship, and Judy’s attitude.

“I see.” She sat quietly, scooping up her chilli with tortilla chips. I said nothing, knowing she was thinking.

“Well, George, I know you’re a quiet boy who doesn’t care for sports, and you don’t have any male friends, just Judy. Still, I never thought you wanted to be a girl.”

“I don’t, mom.”

“Have you ever dressed in girl’s clothes?”

“Judy and I played dress up when her mother watched me a when I was 4 or 5, but that’s it.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“It was fun. Girls’ clothes are more fun than boys’.”

“Well, I can’t deny that. How would you feel about wearing girl’s clothes and acting like a girl all the time?”

“I think I’d be scared. I mean I don’t want to be beaten up.”

“Is that all? You wouldn’t miss being a boy?”

“Other than the clothes and being scared about them, I don’t think it would be much different.”

“You think that now, but there would be all kinds of small differences – some good and some bad – and of course the big difference that not a lot of girls want to date a boy who wears dresses – though some boys might.”

“I’ve never dated a girl, so I don’t know what difference that would make.”

“You’re only 13, George. The older you get the more you’ll want to date girls – or boys … Do you like boys, dear?”

“Not like that – that I know of, but then I don’t know about girls much either – except that they’re interesting to look at.”

“Their bodies, or their clothes?”

“I don’t know, just them.”

“OK.”

“So, what did you tell Judy?”

“That I’d think about it.”

“So, what have you thought?”

“Well, I don’t want to lie, but I don’t have to. So that part’s OK. I want Judy to go to Braintree. It is a thousand times better than Cantwell – and a million times safer. It’s a once in a lifetime chance for her, and I don’t want to screw it up for her. It’d be a good school for me, too, but I’m not sure it’s worth living like a girl for four years.”

“It would be hard, but you’d have the rest of your life to get over it.”

“Mostly it comes down to me being scared shitless – pardon me mom …”

“You’re excused this time.”

“Mostly it comes down to me being scared versus what’s best for Judy. That’s how I see it. What do you think, mom?”

“Well, I’m sorry that Judy put you in this position, but I know why she did it, and I kind of agree with her. This is a once in a lifetime chance for you, too. I vote you face your fears. Still, it’s a huge decision and needs to simmer a while before you decide.

“Let’s see how you’d look as a girl. Go put on your bra and panties while I look at what Judy gave you.”

My bra and panties? I blushed and took a plain white bra and panty set from the bag to my room. Putting them on gave me an embarrassing tent, but some cold water returned me to normal.

“Well, don’t you look cute! Here, try on the sailor set.”

The blouse was white with blue trim. A matching scarf tied at the neck. The skirt was also blue, with six brass buttons in two rows on the front. It came to just above my knees. I remembered how cute Judy looked in it. Mom tied the scarf and loaned me a pair of ankle socks. My blue and white sneakers completed the ensemble.

She led me to the hall mirror. “Well?”

“It’s embarrassing, but I like how it looks more than what I usually wear.” I was even more embarrassed to like how the padded training bra gave me a bit of shape, but I didn’t mention it.

“Me too, George. Let me see what I can do with your hair.” After brushing and pinning forever, mom managed a barely passable hair do. “You’ll need to get it cut if you’re going to do this. Let’s try on your other skirt and blouse.”

The second set was a plain white blouse with a round collar and puffy sleeves. The skirt was a red, white and black plaid with pleats. It only came to mid thigh.

“Mom, every one will see my panties if I wear a skirt this short!”

“Nonsense! You look darling in it. Did you ever see Judy’s panties when she wore it?”

“I guess not.”

“It’s just a matter of learning to move like a girl. I’ll show you how to walk, sit and stand so that that no one sees your panties either.”

As I was practicing, we discussed what to do next. We decided that I should talk to Mrs. Brandeis, my English teacher.

Before I went to bed, I called Judy and told her all that happened.

After class Judy and I asked Mrs. Brandeis if we could talk to her some time.

“What about?”

“Our plans for high school, Mrs. Brandeis.”

“Oh. I’m glad you’re thinking about it. I don’t think Cantwell is right for you. I’d love to hear what you’re thinking, but I have a busy schedule today. I’m supervising lunch again. How about coming to my classroom after school?”

“We’ll miss bus,” we complained.

“What if I drove you home?”

“That would be wonderful! Wouldn’t it George?”

“Yes, if it’s not too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all for my two favorite students.”

Once the halls cleared, we climbed the stairs to room 204, where we had English. Mrs. Brandeis was grading a huge stack of papers. She looked up. “Hi, George, Judy! So, what are you thinking?”

Judy opened her backpack and took out a file folder with the newspaper article on Ms. McFee’s legacy, selected printouts from the Braintree website and other stuff, including articles on Cantwell. For five minutes she impressed the hell out of me. When she got to the part about me applying as a transgender girl, Mrs. Brandeis jaw literally dropped, and she looked at me. I nodded. Still, she didn’t say anything until Judy finished.

“Judy, I’ve always thought you were a very remarkable girl, but the presentation you just made was as good as any I heard when I worked in industry. Still, it’s hard to believe you convinced George to change gender to go to Braintree with you.”

“I told him I wouldn’t apply if he didn’t. I won’t leave him behind.”

“I see. And, George, how do you feel about this?”

“I want Judy to go to Braintree, and it’s the best school I could have a chance to go to, but the idea is very scary. Still, I can’t let my fear stand in the way.”

“Have you discussed this with your mother?”

“Yes.”

“And her reaction?”

“She had me try on some outfits Judy gave me. Then she said we should talk to you.”

“Wow!” Mrs. Braindeis sat silently, thinking. “Well, sadly, Judy’s plan makes perfect sense. Cantwell is no place for either of you, and George, you could resume your male identity after you graduate from Braintree if you wanted to. Still, this is not something to rush into.”

“Oh, but, Mrs Brandeis, it is,” said Judy.

“Why?”

“Because George needs to establish his transgender identity as soon as possible.”

“Yes, I can see that. So, what do you want from me?”

“Well, advice, support and letters of recommendation when the time comes,” said Judy.

My concern was more immediate. “And a way to prevent me from being beaten to a pulp!”

“Well, I do have an idea for that. I’ll talk to Principal Kowalski, and let you know if I can pull it off for you. Let me lock up, then I’ll drive you home.”

Judy got dropped off first. When we got to my house, Mrs. Brandeis talked to me a while about the implications of becoming a girl, then asked if she could talk to my mom on the phone. I gave her mom’s cell.

Once home, I changed out of my school clothes. I don’t have a lot of clothes, so mom insists that I keep my school things nice. When I opened my closet, my skirts and blouses yelled out at me. I thought how good I looked in my sailor outfit, and was tempted to put it on, but thought it might be “school clothes” next week, so I should keep it nice too. I thought about wearing a bra and panty set – to get used to them – so I took a pink set out of my drawer, but I didn’t want mom to think I wanted to be a girl, so I put them back. If things kept going the way they were I’d be wearing them soon enough anyway.

I cooked mac and cheese, jazzing it up with frozen peas and canned tuna. Mom had a frilly apron in the cupboard that called to me, but I was still a boy.

When mom got home, I told her about our conversation with Mrs. Brandeis, and that she might be calling mom.

After I finished my homework, mom suggested that I put on my plaid skirt and practice moving like a girl. While I was changing, Mrs. Brandeis called and mom closed the kitchen door to talk to her privately. So, I was alone in a mini skirt in the living room worried that someone might come to the door and see me – though they hardly ever did. Then I thought how everyone might be seeing me like this soon and got so nervous I almost threw up. By the time mom finished on the phone I was a mess.

“I had a good convers … Oh, dear, what’s wrong, George? You’re as white as a sheet!”

“I’m worried someone will see me like this! I feel like I might throw up.”

Mom hugged me. “Calm down, George. Come sit in the kitchen. Put your head down between your knees and I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

I started feeling marginally better.

“George, no one but me has seen you in a skirt yet. You can call this whole thing off, and no one would blame you.”

“Thanks, mom … but, I have to do it for Judy … and for me too … You know, I read that Admiral Nelson used to be seasick for days at the beginning of each voyage, but he got over it and was a great sailor. I guess if I throw up a few times it would won’t be much different.”

“That’s my brave girl!” mom said hugging me.

“George and Judy, stay for a second. I talked to Mr. Kowalski, and we have a plan to stop George from being ‘beaten to a pulp.’ If you still want to go ahead, George, you need to go and see him. Well?”

“I’m going ahead.”

“OK. Here’s a hall pass. Judy, you’d better get to your next class.”

I felt a bit lost without Judy to explain everything and started getting nauseous as I walked to the office. Mr. Kowalski had been a third-string line backer for the Bears and a coach before becoming a principal, so all the kids were intimidated by him. I suppose that’s why he was the principal. Anyway, I started imaging how he’d feel about a sissy who wanted to wear skirts to school. The more I imagined, the more scared I got. I was afraid I’d wet myself. I stopped at the boys’ room to relieve myself. That helped, but it also made me more scared, because I imagined what it’d be like to go into the boys’ room in a skirt and blouse. Maybe I could wear a diaper. Then the idea of some bully pulling up my skirt and finding a diaper made me even more nauseous.

By the time I got to the office, I was so green, the secretary sent me to the nurse. The nurse had me sit with my head down and then breathe into a paper bag. After 15 minutes I was ready to see Mr. Kowalski. When I walked into is office, he smiled at me, shook my hand and offered me a chair.

“Mrs. Brandeis had a long conversation with me and told me the plan Judy Myers and you cooked up. It seemed crazy at first, but I understand now. I can’t think of anything that would take more guts, George! When I went to Cantwell, my way out was football, and I did everything I could to take it. So, I understand and am proud to have a student like you in my school!”

Wow, I thought. This isn’t what I expected. I relaxed, and tears filled my eyes. I was so embarrassed! He’d just said how brave I was, and now I was crying.

“It’s alright George. Really. Now, I understand you’re worried about some of the boys beating you to a pulp if you come to school in a skirt?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, that’s not going to happen in my school – or out of it for that matter. Wear your skirt and whatever Monday. I’ll have Mrs. Brandeis pick you up at 7:30 and escort you so no one sees you before I address the students. You’ll come directly to my office and I’ll introduce the new you. I guarantee no one will lay a finger on you once I finish. OK?”

“OK, Mr. Kowalski. Thank you, sir.” My fate was sealed.

Judy and I sat alone at lunch and I told her all that happened. She was so happy she gave me a big kiss – right on the lips! Luckily, no one saw, or at least said anything.

Saturday morning, mom got me up early and showed me how to shave my legs. There wasn’t a lot of hair on them, but lately my peach fuzz had gotten longer. I also shaved my underarms. When I was done, she had me put on my mini skirt and took me to the salon.

“Mom, I don’t know if I’m ready to go out in a skirt.”

“Well, if you don’t want to do this, you need to tell me. Otherwise, we need to get you ready for Monday. So?”

“OK, I’ll do it.” I felt nervous, but not as bad as I had walking to Mr. Kowalski’s office.

When we got to the salon, mom told the lady I was a Tomboy who hated spending time fussing with my hair and asked her to recommend some styles. She showed us a book, and I picked a pixie cut. It looked most like a boy’s style and would be easy to care for.

Next, we drove to the mall where I got my ears pierced. Mom bought me small pearl studs like Judy wore. She said I needed a good dress for church. God, I hadn’t thought of going to Mass in a skirt. What would Father Gordon think? We went to the Juniors department at Macy’s and a lady came to wait on us.

“My daughter’s growing up, and needs an adult dress for church. What’s on sale?”

“Our sale dresses are over here,” she said leading us to a section.

“Could you measure my daughter? What size does she wear?”

“I she’s a small. Call me if you need any help.”

Mother and I browsed the racks. Unlike boys’ clothes, there were hundreds of dresses to choose from. No wonder it took girls hours to shop. At first I was very embarrassed looking at dresses, but after mom held a few against me, and no one stared, I discovered that I liked some more than others – and some very much. We picked out three I liked and went to the dressing room to try them. The one I most liked was what the lady called “a grommet-detail fit and flare dress” in a color called cobalt – which is a kind of blue. One problem was the top was loose. My little training bra just didn’t fill it out. Mom talked to the lady. Soon I was wearing a plain white A-cup bra with pads called falsies.

Wearing the dress made me feel happy and I told mom so. It cost more than she planned on paying, but she bought it for me anyway since I liked it so much. “Every girl should have one dress she really likes.”

At Payless we got a pair of black strappy sandals with 2” heels. I haven’t mentioned it, but I am not big – only 4’ 11” and 89 pounds – Judy is like 5’ 2”. Anyway, I liked how the heels made me taller. Maybe more boys would wear them if they knew. I also got some floral print sneakers to wear to school. They had so many colors they would go with most anything I wore.

Our final stop was a consignment shop where we got three skirts, two pair of shorts and five tops for $40. When we got home I spent an hour deciding which skirt and top combinations I liked best. They all looked better when I wore my new A-cup bra. Mom came in a couple of times to comment on what I was wearing.

“Mom, I’m too old to wear a training bra. All the other girls have regular bras.”

“I agree dear, we’ll get you some more tomorrow. … There’s one more thing, George. You need a feminine name. I almost called you ‘George’ when you were trying dresses at Macy’s. Have you thought of one?”

“Not really.”

“Well, give it some thought. Maybe Judy has an idea.”

“Mommy, you should name me,” I said hopefully.

“Well, if you were a girl I was going to call you Melissa after my aunt. Do, you like that name, dear?”

“I love it, mommy.”

Sunday I went to Mass in my new dress. Father Gordon didn’t recognize me when he gave me communion. Several of mom’s friends did and surrounded us in the parking lot after Mass.

“Sandra, why is George wearing that dress?” asked Mrs. Perry, who wasn’t really a friend, just a horrible busy body.

“This is Melissa, and she’s wearing this dress because it’s the one she liked best at Macy’s. I think it looks great on her, don’t you? … Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Well, I never …”

“Then it is about time, because you've been sticking your pointy nose in where it doesn't belong far too long!”

“Well, I …” When she couldn’t think of anything more to say, she stormed off in a huff, followed by her toady, Mrs. Wilkins.

Standing by patiently was Mrs. Sanchez, who was in St. Vincent de Paul with mom, and her daughter, Rosalind, who is in my grade. “I don’t care why Melissa is wearing her dress,” said Mrs. Sanchez. “I yus come over to say how beautiful the two of you look this morning.”

“Thank you, Delores.”

“George, I mean Melissa, I think you look great! I love that dress and the color is perfect for you. Just ignore those bi…, I mean ladies.”

“Thanks, Roz.” Tears welled up in my eyes. Roz hugged me.

“Would you like to join us for breakfast, Delores?”

“We would, but we can’t. We have a long drive to see my Tia Maria. She’s not doing well.”

“I remember. Melissa and I will pray for her.”

“Yes, we will,” I seconded.

When they left, mom apologized for exposing me to Mrs. Perry and Mrs. Wilkins.

“Mom, if I’m going to be wearing dresses, I have to expect to upset some people. I liked how you said she had a pointy nose.”

“It wasn’t very charitable of me.”

“Maybe not, but she deserved it.”

“Are you up for breakfast at Denny’s?”

“Yeah, I want to show off the dress my mom got me.” I was in a defiant mood.

Our breakfast was uneventful. The waitress said how nice we both looked and no one indicated they thought I was a boy. In fact, a boy I didn’t know, who looked about 14, kept ogling me. When I smiled at him, he blushed and turned back to look at his family. That never happened when I was a boy.

We stopped at Target on the way home and mom helped me pick out two more A-cup bras. One was beige with a little bow in the center, but the other was a red tee shirt bra. Mom was surprised that I picked it out. She also got me a package of panties, ankle socks, a small purse, a make-up book and some inexpensive makeup to experiment with. Being a girl is a lot more expensive than being a boy.

When we got home, mom suggested that I change into a tee and shorts and experiment with my makeup until lunch. One of my old white tees went well with a pair of red shorts from the consignment shop. I wore my red bra under it. It was neat the way it showed through.

Makeup was a whole new world for me, but I followed the book. I started with nail polish. I made a mess the first time. So, I took it off. The second time I did a pretty good job. Strangely, pink nails made me feel more like a sissy than all the clothes I’d worn.

I paused for a while and tried to understand my sissy feeling, but couldn’t. I only knew that part of me liked it and part of me hated it. An hour had gone by, so I started on my face. I put on lipstick, but then looked at the book, and found out that’s not how you’re supposed to do it. So, I took my lipstick off and started over with concealer and foundation. My face looked ever so much better than it had as a boy. I added a bit of color to my cheeks and lipstick. I was pretty!

I stopped there, as the chapter on eye make up was long and complicated. Besides, I liked how I looked so far. Mom was making toasted cheese sandwiches when she turned and saw me. “Oh, my! … I shouldn’t be surprised, but you’re lovely, Melissa. That’s a perfect look for school tomorrow. Why don’t you call Judy after lunch and ask her over so she can see how great you look?”

“I like your pixie cut, Mel, but I wish you waited. I had some ideas I wanted to try on your old hair.”

“Well, we’ve got four years, so you can try other styles when my hair grows out.”

“I suppose so. I do like your pearls. We look like sisters.” She pulled me to a mirror so I could see how our earrings matched.

“We do, a bit. I’m glad,” I said without a lot of enthusiasm.

“What’s wrong Mel? Don’t you like how you look? I think you look wicked!”

“I do like how I look – maybe that’s the problem. I feel like a sissy,” I said looking at my pink nails in the mirror as I turned my studs. My red bra was clearly visible under my tee.

“Is that bad?”

“Well, all this time I’ve been trying not to be a sissy. Now I think maybe I’ve been a sissy all along. I mean would a real boy like being pretty?”

“Well, if he didn’t he’d be pretty stupid, and you’re not stupid, Mel.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean what’s wrong with being pretty – whether you’re a boy or a girl? It makes people happy to look at you. Isn’t that a good thing? … And, why shouldn’t you be one of the people who’re happy that you’re pretty? Only bullies would get mad at someone for being pretty. Besides, if you’re going to do it no matter, you might as well be pretty and enjoy it.”

“I suppose so. I’ll have to think about it.”

“I expect you to! … Now lets see your new clothes. I want a fashion show! Let’s see your dress.”

I got it out of the closet.

“Can I try it on?”

“I don’t see why not. Here, I got these heels to go with it.”

Without the slightest hesitation, Judy stripped down to her bra and panties. I was wearing a bra and panties myself, but I reacted to seeing her strip in a very ungirlish way. Luckily, I’d tucked myself back, and nothing showed. Still, I was blushing furiously.

“Don’t be such a prude. We’re sisters – and besides, you’ll see a lot more when we’re at Braintree. I’m sure.”

Anyway, it didn't last long. It took her only a few seconds to get into the dress. I zipped it up the back as she stepped into my strappy sandals. She looked in the mirror – turning this way and that.

“You have great taste in dresses, Mel. Can I borrow it sometime?”

I’d never lent clothes to anyone, but I knew girls did. “I guess so.”

She kissed me on the cheek. “Unzip me and let’s see how you look in it.”

I started taking off my shorts and tee.

“Bra too! That bra won’t work with this dress.”

For some funny reason, I was reluctant to take off my bra and expose my chest to Judy. I realized it was because I was ashamed of not having real breasts. Of course, she knew that, but still it seemed to matter that she'd see I was wearing falsies. I turned my back to her as I changed bras.

“You’re a very shy girl, Mel, but I love you anyway.”

I didn’t know what to say. Somehow my flat chest was something to be ashamed of – like a birth defect.

Anyway, once I changed my bra, I didn’t mind turning around. I saw Judy looking at my flat crotch. I blushed. “I tucked myself back. It didn’t look right to have a bulge.”

“No, I guess it wouldn’t. Here, step into your dress.” She helped me into it and zipped it for me as I had for her. “It looks even better on you than it does on me. The color goes with your eyes and makes them look deeper blue.”

“Thanks,” I smiled.

We spent most of an hour trying on various combinations and discussing what worked best together. I discovered that my other shorts were hot pants. Judy thought I looked really sexy in them, heels and a tee rolled up to expose my belly button. I didn’t think my mom would want me dressing like that – at least not in public.

After going through my clothes, Judy wanted to try my makeup – on both of us. Her mom only let her have pink lipstick. We used the book and made up each other’s eyes. Some of the looks worked, but many made us laugh. Mom came in and looked at us and laughed too. It was one of the best times I ever had with Judy.

Just before Judy went home we discussed what I should wear my first day as a girl at school. I wanted to wear my cobalt dress and my heels, but mom said it would look like I was “putting on airs.” Judy suggested the plaid skirt and white blouse she’d given me. We all agreed it would be best, even thought I was still shy about wearing such a short skirt.

Monday morning I woke up and realized it was the day I’d start dressing like a girl at school. I was so scared I literally threw up. Mom managed to get a piece of dry toast into me, but that was all.

“You’re absolutely white! Are you sure you want to go?”

“Yes. I have to … for Judy … and me. If I don’t go today, I’ll just toss my cookies again tomorrow.”

Mom gave me some OJ to sip slowly.

“I’ll do your make up,” she said, starting to apply concealer. “You need some color, or everyone will think you’re dying.”

“I am.”

“No, you’re not. Remember Mr. Kowalski said everything would be OK. You trust him don’t you?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I said with marginally more energy – maybe from the OJ.

Mom continued with foundation and blush as I sipped my last meal. “OK, put on your lipstick.”

I opened my compact and saw how pretty I was. “Thanks mom.” I broke a faint smile.

Just then Mrs. Brandeis knocked to take me to school.

“Oh my God! You’re beautiful, George …”

“It’s Melissa,” interjected mom.

“Melissa! And a big girl too,” she said glancing at my bra.

I was shaking a little.

She gave me a hug and whispered in my ear, “It will all me fine – you’ll see. The fix is in.”

I wasn’t sure what “the fix” was, but I knew she was trying to encourage me. “Thanks, Mrs. Brandeis.”

In the car she told me that from now on I’d be using the girls’ restrooms at school, but shouldn’t be a problem since the stalls are private. Other than that, she made small talk to take my mind off of what lay ahead. I was lost in my own thoughts – wondering if I was making the most horrible mistake of my life. The next thing I knew, I was sitting alone in Mr. Kowalski’s office.

After a few minutes, he walked it, carrying a large tree branch like a club. “Melissa, what a pretty girl you are,” he said, smiling warmly. “Do you have any questions?”

“Probably, but I can’t think right now.”

“I understand. It’ll be OK. You can see me anytime you need to.” He stood and walked over to my chair. “Here, take my hand.”

We went to the auditorium’s stage entrance. As he opened the door, the murmur of quiet voices made it clear that there was an assembly. He led me to a chair next to the podium. Everyone was staring at me – even though other people were sitting in chairs next to mine. One was a policewoman.

Mr. Kowalski put the branch across the podium. “We are here today to welcome a new student, Melissa Antonelli,” he said, gesturing to me. “Many of you may have known her as George Antonelli, but, as you can see, she is really a very pretty girl. The reason I’m talking to you is that I know some of you are bullies. Bullies are sniveling cowards who pick on people weaker than themselves. Bullying makes me very angry, and when I am angry, I am inclined to break things.” He picked up his branch, and broke it over his knee, with a loud crack that sent splinters flying. There was a shocked silence in the hall. No one was looking at me anymore. “Now, I hope none of you will give me occasion to become angry by bulling Miss Antonelli or her friends. However, in case you do, there will be further consequences. To explain them, I have invited Lieutenant Justine Lane of the hate crimes squad. Lieutenant Lane …”

Lieutenant Lane talked for about 15 minutes explaining what hate crimes were, what the law said, and what had happened to some of the delinquents she had arrested for attacking homosexual and transgendered people. When she was done Mr. Kowalski dismissed the assembly and sent them to their classrooms to discuss what they’d heard.

Finally, he took me by the hand and escorted me to Mrs. Brandeis’s English class. No one bothered me after that. Some boys gave me funny looks in the hall, but no insults came my way.

As usual, I sat with Judy for lunch. Roz came over and invited us to eat with her friends. They were all very nice and welcomed me into their group. I answered their polite questions as best I could. Mostly they wanted to know why I liked skirts, because most of them preferred pants. I told them skirts were a prettier, but I worried about boys seeing my panties. That made them giggle. I also said how shy boys seemed now that I was in skirts and told them about the boy at Denny’s.

After lunch, we all went to the girls’ room. It was my first time. Two things surprised me. First, the line to use the facilities. Second the conversation. This is where the girls talked about boys. Some of the conversation was so frank, I blushed. Clearly, they no longer considered me a boy.

While I was waiting in line Roz asked to look in my purse. She put two tampons in it.

“What’re they for?” I whispered.

“Some one may ask to you for one. You need to have a spare to give her.”

After lunch I used to have wood shop, but Mr. Kowalski suggested that I go to home ec and talk to Mrs. O’Malley about transferring. They were just finishing their first unit, cooking. I was able to convince her to let me take the test on Friday. If I passed, she’d let me transfer.

When I got home I changed into boy clothes, but left on my bra and panties, as I didn’t look like a boy in my pixie cut. I told mom everything that happened at school, and that I was making friends as a girl.

“Maybe being a girl will be good for you. I mean you need more friends.”

“Yeah, maybe. I mean yes, I like having more friends.”

Life in middle school is not very exciting, even if you are a boy wearing skirts.

The next Friday I did some cooking at lunchtime for Mrs. O’Malley. She made a few suggestions for improvement, but said I know how to cook better than most girls in her class. The next unit was childcare. A lot of the girls were interested in that so they’d have a better chance of getting baby-sitting jobs. I thought it was good for me because even fathers should know how to take temperatures and change diapers.

With more friends, I got invited more places after school. Girls have a lot of get-togethers that aren’t really parties, but are fun just the same. I had to stay up later to finish my chores and homework. I decided to be more selective in accepting invitations so I’d have time to do everything. Mostly my reading suffered a little.

One Saturday Judy invited me to see the new Jane Austin movie. As usual, we stopped at the drug store to get candy before we went. I decided purses were much nicer for candy than pockets – the chocolate didn’t melt. Anyway, when we were in line to buy tickets, two 9th grade boys, Ron and John, asked us what we were going to see. We told them. They were going to see X-men, but they’d like to see something with us. Judy seemed to know Ron, and wanted to join them, but not for X-men. Finally, we settled on a comedy that started a little later.

Since we had to wait in the lobby for the theater to open, the boys went to buy us sodas. When they were gone, I said, “Dating boys isn’t a part of acting like a girl that I’m interested in.”

“Don’t worry, Mel, they’re harmless. I really want to get to know Ron better. Would you please be nice and go along?”

“Alright, but John better not kiss me or anything.”

“He wouldn’t – did you see how shy he was?”

“Yeah, I guess so. OK. I hope I don’t regret this.”

When they got back with our sodas, Ron asked Judy if she wanted to look at the posters of coming attractions. I figured they wanted to talk alone. I was left with John.

“John, you seem familiar, did you go to Emerson last year?”

“No, Mel, but you did see me before. You smiled at me in Denny’s a couple of weeks ago. If you hadn’t, I would have said no to Ron when he wanted us to talk to you two.”

“Oh,” I said blushing.

“I hope you won’t get mad, but I saw you even before that – at Denny’s. I thought you looked cute even then, but you were a boy.”

Oh! I …” I was starting to panic.

“Please don’t be upset. I’ve never said this to anyone before – but I have a secret too – I like boys.”

“Oh.” I said. No one had ever come out to me before. “I don’t know who I like yet, John. I mean, just because I wear skirts doesn’t mean I like boys.”

“I know Mel. I’m not expecting anything. I just like you – in pants or in a skirt – it doesn’t matter to me.”

I wanted to be mad, but John was baring his soul, and I couldn’t be.

“So, what do you want – from me – John?”

“Just to spend time with you, if you’ll let me. I mean I don’t even know what I want. You’re just so pretty.” He leaned over and kissed my cheek.

It was very sweet, even if it was not what I was hoping for.

“Enough of that, John!” I reproached gently.

“Sorry.”

“It was very sweet of you, but I’m not ready to be kissed by boys yet.”

“OK. I won’t kiss you again without asking.”

“OK.”

Just then Ron and Judy wondered back.

“The theater just opened. Why don’t you two get us some good seats while Mel and I visit the ladies’ room.”

“Sounds good.”

“Well, someone is making good progress. I saw that kiss.”

“It’s complicated. He has a crush on me – and he knows I’m a boy.”

“How?”

“He saw me in Denny’s when I was a boy, and then when I was a girl. He thought I looked cute both ways.”

“I’m sure you were. So, is he gay?”

“Yes, but he’s not out to anyone but me.”

“I won’t let on. … So, how was the kiss?”

“It was just on the cheek. Still, it was very sweet. He seems really nice.”

“So, are you going to encourage him?”

“Well, I don’t want him to feel rejected, but I not looking for a boyfriend.”

“Well, let me know what happens.”

“So, is Ron nice?”

“So far, but he hasn’t kissed me yet – so you’re the fast worker.”

I blushed.

In the theater, it was John, me, Judy and Ron next to her. It was fun. John put his arm around my shoulders and by the end of the movie I was leaning against him a bit. There was no more kissing. He asked me for my phone number, and I gave it to him.

When I told mom, she asked, “Why did you give him your number?”

“Because I like him – not because he’s a boy.”

“We’ll see, dear.”

John became a close friend. I knew he was gay, and he knew I wasn’t interested in making out with him. Still, as time went on, I let him be affectionate if he behaved – putting his arm around me or kissing me on the cheek. We became close enough that I told him why I started wearing dresses, and even that I preferred dressing like a girl. I asked if he’d like to try my clothes, but he wasn’t interested.

Mom kept an eye on us, but treated John well, and didn’t interfere. Most people thought John was my boyfriend. He was certainly the closest thing I had to one.

Having a 9th grader as a boyfriend increased my social status. I didn’t tell the other girls John knew I was a boy, lest I out him. When asked, I’d say, “He’s happy the way things are – and its not like I’m going to marry him.” One girl, whose boyfriend was a sweet, pimply, 8th grader, kept telling me it wasn’t right. She wore a C-cup, even though I knew she was barely an A. Looking at her chest, I just said, “We all have our little secrets, don’t we, Linda?” After that she wasn’t so moralistic.

Meanwhile, Judy was letting Ron be a little more adventurous. She was letting him do things I wouldn’t let John do, but then she’s a real girl and I’m not. It all came to a head one Thursday when Ron went to her house before her mom got home to make out. After he’d gone as far as she ever let him, he wanted to put his hand in her panties, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. They had a physical fight and Judy bit him on the arm. (John saw the bite the next day, and said it drew blood.) Ron left. That was the end of the two of them. John and Ron also stopped talking.

I spent a lot of time consoling Judy the next few days. Judy thought she could trust John and loved him. So what he did really hurt her. I didn’t know what to say. So, I suggested she talk to her mother. She was too embarrassed. Finally, I said. “Why not talk to my mother? She understands a lot more stuff than I do”

If Judy hadn't been hurting so much, I don’t think she’d have agreed, but she did. We walked over to my house and I left the two of them alone. Later, Judy told me what mom said.

Judy was embarrassed, but told mom that she had let Ron take her bra off and kiss her breasts and also French kiss her. She thought mom would yell at her, but she didn’t.

“Judy, I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself, and not letting yourself be forced into going farther than you felt comfortable with.

“All boys and girls need to explore and find out about their bodies and about how other people respond. It’s part of growing up. So, you shouldn’t be embarrassed. There’s nothing wrong in letting boy, or girl, you like kiss you or touch your breasts. Your mother and I both did when we were growing up. It’s part of becoming a woman.

“Still, you need to keep safe. It isn’t safe to be with someone, like Ron, who is bigger and stronger than you, and more sexually mature, when no one’s around to protect you. So, you shouldn’t have let him in when your mother wasn’t home to protect you – but you know that now.”

“Well, I couldn’t do it with my mom in the house, could I?”

“Why not?”

“Well she wouldn’t let me … I mean she wouldn’t let me and a boy … you know try things.”

“I’m sure she doesn’t want you having sex at your age, but she was 13 once, and knows how it feels. Maybe you could talk to her. When John visits Mel, I let them have some privacy, but I’m still in the house. Maybe your mom would give you and your boyfriend some space if you talked to her.”

“You think so?”

“Yes. Are you embarrassed to talk to her? I could talk to her for you, but it would be better if you did it.”

“Oh, please don’t tell her about this!”

“I wouldn’t unless you said it was OK.”

“Oh, thank you!”

“So, are you scared of boys now?”

“A little, but mostly, I …”

“What?”

“Well, I thought Ron was nice and I could trust him. Now I … I don’t even trust myself to know if a boy’s going to be nice.”

“Well, part of that is because you’re only 13 and don’t have a lot of experience with boys – but believe me a lot of grown women have a hard time judging men. That is why I’m divorced … and your mom too. We thought the guys we married would be a lot nicer than they turned out to be.”

“So, you can’t trust boys?”

“I didn’t mean that – there are selfish ass … selfish ones and nice ones – like John. He never pushes Mel.”

“But he’s gay!”

“I don’t think that has anything to do with it. He’s just a nice boy.”

“Oh.”

“So, you have to follow your feelings, but keep your eyes open – and, at your age, especially, keep safe.

“Feel better?”

“Yes. Thank you Mrs. Antonelli. I like talking to you. You don’t treat me like a child.”

“I’m glad I helped, Judy.”

Judy didn’t talk to her mom, but decided not to get mixed up with boys until she was a bit older.

After Judy’s experience with Ron, I realized what a gem John was. I still was not attracted to him sexually, but I really liked being with him because he always made me feel special. If I had a bad day, spending time with him made me feel better. His arm around me made me feel warm and loved. I felt he deserved more than I had given him. So, I invited him over for dinner one evening. I cooked hot dogs and baked beans, home made potato salad, and an apple pie I made myself. When he arrived, I kissed him on the lips and told him how much I liked him and the way he treated me.

After dinner, mom left us alone in the kitchen. Our dish washing was interrupted with a lot of kissing, and toward the end we were French kissing and John was very excited. Even my panties were damp. I could tell John wanted to go further, but he was a gentleman, and didn’t.

That night, as I thought about what happened, I cried. I wasn’t a girl, and I wasn’t the kind of boy John deserved. It wasn’t fair to him to lead him on and then frustrate him. The next morning, I talked to mom about it. I told her how much I liked John, but that I did not want to be with him like a girl, or like a boy with another boy. Mom said how much she liked John and wished, for his sake, things were different. Still, she agreed that dating me was not fair to him.

Later, when John came over, I took his hands and kissed him gently.

“John, you know I love you and being with you.”

It was the first time I’d said “love” to him, so his eyes brightened. Mine were filling with tears.

“The problem is I don’t love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

“But, last night …”

“Last night was what made me realize it. You deserve someone who would have wanted to go further. … I did … but not for the reason I should have. I wanted you to be happy, but if I’d done … more. It would have made you happy for a while, but I would have hated myself latter … and that would have made us both unhappy.”

“But, the way you kissed me …”

“You deserved to be kissed like that … I wanted you to know how much you deserved to be kissed like that … because I love you … but as a friend, not as a lover.”

“But, you seemed to be excited to …”

“I was, but it didn’t feel right … I was imagining that you were a big strong girl taking me in her arms.”

“Oh …”

“So, we should not see each other for a while. You need to find someone else to love – a boy that deserves you and wants to give you the kind of love you deserve.”

“I’m not interested in anyone but you Mel …”

“I know …” Tears were streaming down my cheeks. “You better go. I’ll always be your friend.”

John left. I went to my room and sobbed until I fell asleep. Mom was right, wearing skirts had consequences I never dreamed of.

The rest of eighth grade streamed by. Most of our teachers had us doing independent study, and Mrs. O’Malley helped me make two dresses with patterns and fabrics I bought at the fabric store.

In February Judy and I applied to Braintree for scholarships. We both scored in the 99th percentile on the state standardized test, even though we took it early. Mrs. Brandeis and two other teachers wrote us excellent recommendation letters. In April, we got called out of class to be interviewed Ms. Cora Jackson, a recruiter from Braintree. She asked us a wide range of questions. Judy did better on current events and I did better on science, but she told us both were definitely Braintree material.

I happened to be wearing one of the dresses I’d made. She complemented me on it. I explained I made it myself, and pointed out details I’d added. She’d had some doubts about me being a girl, but when she saw me walking in, they’d all evaporated. She said there was no doubt that I was a confident young lady who would fit in perfectly.

At the beginning of May, we received letters saying we were accepted, and had won full scholarships. Judy was to report September first, but I was to report the previous week for “special orientation.”

In early May, Father Gordon figured out that the new girl coming to Mass with my mom was me, George Antonelli. He reamed my mother out for encouraging her son to be homosexual, threw her out of St. Vincent de Paul, and me out of confirmation class. Mrs. Linden, the president of St. Vincent, came to our house to apologize and told us about a more understanding priest, Father Rodrigues, in an adjacent parish. As it turned out, I got confirmed before the kids in my parish because confirmation in there was early June.

Mom and I found a pattern for a flower girl dress. I made it with her help. So, I wore a gorgeous white dress and mom's pearl drop earrings and necklace to the ceremony. Father Rodrigues suggested I pick Francis as my confirmation name so the bishop wouldn't have heartburn. My confirmation certificate said “George Richard Francis Antonelli,” because George Richard is how I was baptized. That was fine with me, because I didn't plan to be a girl forever.

Once school let out, I tried to earn money babysitting, but after a couple of jobs, word spread that I wasn't really a girl. Most parents didn't want to hire me. I guess they thought I would turn their baby boys into sissies and do who knows what with their daughters. I had even less success trying to make money mowing lawns.

That was not my only problem. After graduation, Mr. Kowalski's threats no longer protected me from Joe Valdez and his gang, who tried to make my life as miserable as possible without running afoul of the law. It was hard to steer completely clear of them because whenever I needed to buy something, I had to go to the Quik Stop – one of the gang's favorite haunts. Mr. Pierce, the manager, didn't tolerate bullying inside, but what happened outside was beyond his control.

The gang regularly called me a fag and made obscene suggestions while exposing themselves. I thought that's what they were, because they wanted sex with a boy, while I had no interest in them. I tried to avoid them by taking different routes. One day I spotted them coming down the block, so I ducked into an alley to avoid them. That was a mistake because they came down both ends of the alley and trapped me. Two of them twisted my arm behind me and forced me to kneel. Gravel and broken glass cut into my knees. Joe stood in front of me and unzipped his fly. I screamed in pain, but it was hopeless because no one could see that was happening. Trash barrels and board fences blocked the view in all directions.

Just then an old man burst trough his alley gate yelling something I didn't understand. He was armed with a garden fork leveled at the boys. They broke and ran. I was on my knees sobbing. He took my hand and gently helped me up, escorting me into his house. His name was George Washington Johnson. He called the police. While we waited, he washed and bandaged my knees. As he worked, he recounted how he had bayoneted a man in Viet Nam, and hoped he'd never have to do it again. Still, he was ready to this time. I thanked him profusely, but didn't say I was boy.

When the police came, I told them who did it. Since Mr. Johnson hadn't seen their faces, he could not collaborate my identification. So, there wasn't enough evidence to charge them. When I got home, Judy suggested that I call Lieutenant Lane and tell her what happened. She came over and was very nice. Even though there wasn't enough evidence, she arrested the gang and held them over night. She hinted that she'd tell the 43s that they liked sex with boys if they ever bothered me again. They didn't, but then, I didn't go to the Quik Stop again.

I made an apple pie, and mom and I took it to Mr. Johnson to thank him. We sat and talked a while as he showed us his photo album. He had 4 children, but none of them lived close. I said I would write him when I got to Braintree and tell him how I was getting along.

I heard later that Joe Valdez succeeded in making a 7th grader do what he wanted me to do. The kid was the younger brother of one of the 43s. Joe was shot and barely survived.

Even though I didn't go to the Quik Stop anymore, I did have the courage to go to Judy's house. We spent a lot of time together. She liked the dresses I'd made and asked if Id make her a couple to take to Braintree in the fall. We looked at patterns on line and I sketched some changes to make them unique. Judy had babysitting money, so we took the bus to the fabric store, where we picked out fabrics and bought the base pattern. Mrs. Myers had an old Singer. So, after a couple of false starts and two weeks cutting, fitting and sewing, Judy had two new dresses. She said, “They look better than any I've seen in stores.” She was just being nice, but I was happy she liked them.

Roz also liked the dresses and got her mother to pay me $30.00 to make her one. Soon I was making simple dresses for little girls in the neighborhood. I managed to save $352.57 by the time I left for Braintree.

Mom thought of getting me breast forms for my birthday, but couldn't afford any worth buying. She got me a prepaid phone to take to Braintree and a salon appointment instead. At the salon, I got a style with super bouncy tousled curls the lady said would show off my earrings. (I forget to mention it, but I kind of fell in love with earrings, and had quite a collection.) Anyway, the large curls and casual look was easy to care for and the style fit my face. I looked like a girl even in what was left of my boys' clothes.

The salon also did my nails super smooth and shiny. The nail lady showed me how to use nail stickers. I got butterflies, flowers and feather patterns. They made my nails look so cute! And, I could change the patterns to fit my moods.

I saw John a few times, but it was not like before. A couple of weeks before I was to go to Braintree, he brought his new boyfriend, Sandy, over to introduce him. Sandy was in John's grade – a very shy and feminine redhead with long, wavy hair. I liked him – especially since he and John got along so well. I was so happy for John, I kissed them both. I sent John to the Quik Stop to get slushies and took Sandy to my room to show off my dresses. He spent a lot of time looking at them, but said he wasn't ready to try them – yet. I said he should, as John liked boys in dresses. Sandy blushed. He did try mascara and a natural shade of lipstick. John was very pleased when he came back with our slushies.

John had come out to his parents. His mom was pretty accepting, but his dad was quiet. Finally, his dad said “You're my son and I'll always love you,' and “I'm proud of the courage you showed in being who God made you.”

We talked until we finished our slushies, but John had promised to take Sandy to the movies, so they had to leave. As they were going, Sandy asked if he could come over by himself the next day. Of course, I said yes.

The next day Sandy came over, and I served him some iced tea.

“What did you want to do?”

He seemed tongue tied.

“Do you want to ask me something?”

“Ah … I liked it,” he said quietly.

“It?”

“Wearing make up. Mommy said I looked pretty.”

“Oh. Did you want to try it again?”

“No! … I mean yes, … but I'd like to talk first.”

“OK.”

“I mean, when I had it on, I felt … I mean it was exciting … but … I don't know how to say it. It made me feel less knotted up. Like I wasn't fighting myself. Is that how you feel wearing dresses?”

“Dresses and me is complicated. I mean, I like how they look and feel, but I don't think I was fighting myself before I started wearing them – or maybe I was – I was trying to act more like a boy than I felt.”

“I have been too! That's just it. Acting more like a boy than I felt! Wearing make up made me feel more like me.”

“I'm glad. Would you like to try my makeup again?”

“No. I'm going to buy my own.”

“OK. I have a makeup book my mom got me. I'm done with it. Would you like it?”

“Thanks, Mel!” he said enthusiastically.

“Yesterday, you said you weren't ready to try my dresses yet. Do you want to now?”

“May I? I mean just one – my mom expects me home soon. The sailor skirt is so cute, could I try it?”

“Sure, but to really get the full effect, you need the underwear as well.”

“Like panties and a bra?”

“What else!” I went to my dresser. “Here's a set my friend Judy gave me when I started. I wear larger bras now, so you can have it. You can change here or in the bathroom.”

“Would you mind if I put it on here? I'd feel more like were were girls together.”

“OK.”

Sandy was shy, but still changed in front of me. He had a slim, girlish body.

“I can't get the bra hooked.”

“Here, I'll do it. Next time you can hook it in front, then turn it around.”

“Oh.”

“Also you need to push your self back so you don't have a bump in front.” In truth, there wasn't much of a bump. “Look in the mirror.”

“I look like a girl, except for my hair.”

“I'll brush it for you.” I parted it I the middle, brushed her bangs forward, and used barrettes to hold it in place.

“This blouse goes with the skirt. … Now step into the skirt and tuck your blouse in … Here, I'll tie the scarf for you. … What do you think?”

“Oh, Mel!” Sandy started crying.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing! Oh thank you!” She kissed me and hugged me.

I hugged her back.

“I wish I could wear this home.”

“It's not safe, dear, especially in this neighborhood … but you can wear the panties and training bra … your shirt is loose enough to hide it.”

“Oh may I, Mel?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Oh dear! Look at the time! Mommy will be upset.”

I helped Sandy out of my sailor set. She left in her boy clothes. Her training bra was only visible if you knew she had it on.

Sandy came over a number of times in the following weeks, sometimes with John, but often alone. We'd talk about clothes, how dreamy John was, and her mother's growing acceptance of her feminine self. She never wore a skirt over, but by August was regularly in girls' pants and blouses. We became good friends.

I got a letter at the beginning of August about traveling to Braintree. Freshmen were allowed one storage box, one suitcase, a carry-on bag, and a purse. No appliances other than a clock and/or radio were allowed. The rooms already had a small refrigerator and microwave. There was a list of recommended clothes and personal items. Parents were welcome for Thanksgiving weekend. Other than that, we wouldn't see them until Christmas break. My mom had to sign a consent form for my care.

There were two supplements: one for scholarship students, and one for transgendered students.

In addition to full tuition and room and board, scholarship students received school uniforms, full medical coverage, a tablet with a removable keyboard, and a weekly stipend for miscellaneous expenses.

Transgendered students were not to bring male clothing. We would be picked up by a school van August 24th for a week of special orientation. My pick up time was 11:00 AM. Lunch and dinner would be provided en route.

On the 24th I kissed my mother good bye before she left for work, and waited nervously for the van. The letter said to dress casually. I wore violet shorts and a lavender tank top as I wasn't sure if the van had AC. As 11:00 passed I got more nervous, but at 11:03. the van pulled up in front. A tall lady, who turned out to be Ms. Kelvin, the basketball coach, came to the door and helped me load my stuff into the van. She asked if I had forgotten my box. I didn't have one as all my stuff fit in my luggage.

Three other girls were already in the van were, one of whom was sprawled out taking a nap. Since the only empty seat was up front, I rode shotgun. Ms. Kelvin introduced us. Casey and Paula were in the middle seat, while the sleepyhead in the back was Pattie. Pattie was in denim shorts, a white sleeveless top and paisley sneakers. Casey and Paula both wore pencil skirts and strappy heels. The difference was that Casey had a red embroidered top while Paula had a cute print top with a crocheted yoke. They paid little attention to me, giggling about something on their phones.

I was the last pick up, so it didn't take long to get on the interstate and be out of town. I'd never been out of town before, so the scenery was fascinating. Of course I knew what farm animals looked like, but I'd never seen real ones. After a while we got into a more wooded area and there was a yellow diamond sign with a deer on it.

“Will we be able to see deer here, Ms. Kelvin?”

“Probably not dear, they mostly come out at dawn and dusk.”

“Have you ever seen one?”

“Yes, lots. You will too, they come on the Braintree grounds most evenings in the Fall and Spring. You'll be able to see them – and fawns too, in the Spring.”

“The pictures in the catalog are beautiful. Is Braintree really that lovely?”

“Most of the girls think so. Of course, at first you may be too homesick to enjoy it.”

“Are all the teachers as easy to talk to as you, Ms. Kelvin?”

“Well, not all of them. Still, most of the girls get on well enough.”

After that she started asking about me, and what I did over the summer. I didn't tell her everything. I said how babysitting didn't work out because a lot of parents didn't want “a boy in a dress” watching their children, but that I finally made some money sewing.

“May I see some of the things you sewed later? I have a hard time getting things that fit because I'm so tall and thin. If I like your work, I might ask you to sew something for me.”

“I don't mind showing you, but I think I won't have a lot of time for dressmaking with all the courses I'll be taking.”

“Of course, Mel. How thoughtless of me.”

About 12:30 we came to a small town with a little restaurant.

“I stopped here for dinner last night. The food was delicious – all home made.”

We all got out and I introduced myself to Pattie. She was quite tall, maybe 5' 10” or 11”, and masculine looking. Understandably, she was shy.

Casey and Paula continued to be standoffish, so I chatted with Pattie as we waited for a table.

“What's with them?” I asked.

“They were very unimpressed when they saw your house. They live in mansions,” she said in a husky voice.

“Oh?”

“Yes, I was the first one picked up – at 6:30 this morning. So, I saw where they lived.”

“And what kind of house do you live in?”

“A regular one. My grandmother is wealthy and went to Braintree, so she is paying for me to go. My parents are glad to get rid of me. I'm an embarrassment. I don't want to be a boy and I'm too big to be a girl.”

“I know some tall girls, Pattie.”

“That's nice of you to say, sweetie. Still, look at my face. It's not the least bit feminine.”

I did look at it – thinking of what I'd learned in my makeup book. “I think the problem is makeup. You're not very good at it.”

“No one ever taught me. Are you a make up artist?”

“Hardly! I just read about it and helped a boy I know. If you're willing, I could try to help you a bit.”

“I'm in no position to turn down help, Mel.”

Just then we were seated. There were a lot of things on the menu I'd never seen, so I tried cat fish and okra. Pattie had country fried steak and green beans with bacon. She let me have a taste. It was good. Casey and Paula turned up their noses at the menu and just had vegetable soup and a salad. Ms. Kelvin ate a double portion of meat loaf, mashed potatoes and collard greens.

I continued to chat with Pattie, while Ms. Kelvin tried to talk to Casey and Paula. They more or less ignored her. I was beginning to dislike them.

Pattie leaned over and said, “Don't be too hard on them. Their parents were happier to get rid of them than mine were to dump me. I could tell by how they said good bye.”

I began to realize just how lucky I was. I'd trade a mansion for my mom any day.

When we got back in the van, I asked Ms. Kelvin if she'd stop at the Walmart we'd seen so I could get some things. It wouldn't take more than 10 minutes. She agreed even though it meant going back a mile or two. There was nothing Casey or Paula would want in a Walmart so, they stayed in the van when Ms. Kelvin, Pattie and I went in.

I dragged Pattie to cosmetics and selected inexpensive makeup in tones matching his complexion. I wanted to pay for them, but Pattie wouldn't hear of it. While we were arguing, Ms. Kelvin paid the cashier.

Soon, we were on the road again. I sat in the back experimenting with Pattie's makeup. I found that a dab of mascara could create shadows giving her face feminine contours. When she saw the result in my compact mirror tears streaked her mascara.

It was almost 11:00 when a change in rhythm woke us. We'd turned off the expressway. A few miles down a country lane a stone and wrought iron gateway on our right proclaimed “Braintree Academy.” We turned in. The entry lighting was subdued, so we saw little before arriving at a colonial style brick building. Mrs. Robertson, a matronly woman, came out to greet us.

“You must all be tired. Just grab your carryons and purses, and I'll show you your rooms. The rest of your things will be delivered to you later. The wake up bell will be delayed until 7:00 to let up sleep in. Breakfast will be at 7:45. Orientation starts at 8:30.”

She showed Casey and me to the first room.

“I think Casey would rather share with Paula, and I'd rather be with Pattie. Would that be OK, Mrs. Robinson?”

Casey gave me a grateful smile, and Pattie perked up as well.

“I don't see why not. These won't be your permanent rooms.”

“Thank you so much.”

I called my mom. Leaving a message that I'd arrived safely. Pattie and I said little as we brushed our teeth, donned our nities and crawled into bed.

A very loud, annoying bell broke my dream about feeding deer on the lawn. I looked out and saw a campus of manicured grass and mature oaks, crisscrossed by walks and surrounded by colonial buildings. Two or three women were walking on the quad. We had an en suite bath, so it didn't take long to shower and dress. Pattie had a little stubble and was shaving when I finished.

“Do you have time to do my makeup, Mel? I really liked what you did yesterday.”

“Yes, but you'd better pay attention so you can do it yourself next time.” I was hungry and didn't want to miss breakfast. I did a rush job, but still told her what I was doing and why.

“Thank you ever so much. I could kiss you.”

“Maybe later, I'm hungry now,” I smiled.

Breakfast was a medley of fresh fruit, an egg, and two pancakes with coffee, tea and or milk. Later we found that all the meals were portion controlled and would be tailored to our individual diets once they were established.

There were six girls at the table. Besides Pattie, Casey, Paula and me, there were Cyndie and Jane. Cyndie was small like me, strawberry blond and very cute. Jane had glossy black hair, was a bit heavy, and her V-neck revealed amazing cleavage. Both were quiet throughout the meal.

When we were done, Mrs. Robinson announced that special orientation would begin at 8:30 in room 105 of the main building and asked us to bus our dishes to a conveyor belt that disappeared into the kitchen. Shorts or pants would be “inappropriate,” so Pattie, Jane and I returned to our rooms to change. I tried to warm Jane up by telling her how much I liked her hair. She thanked me politely.

After changing into skirts, Pattie and I started for the main building. Jane emerged a few yards behind us, so we waited.

“Isn't this a beautiful campus, Jane?”

“I suppose, for a girls' school.”

“You sound like you don't want to be here.”

“My mother's is making me. I have gynecomastia, so she makes me wear a bra and dress like a girl. I said it wasn't right. She said that girls' clothes were designed to fit breasts. Since God gave me breasts, She must want me to wear girls' clothes.”

I'd never heard God called “She” before, but let it pass. “So, she's really religious?”

“No, she just uses God to win arguments. Anyway, since I wore girls' clothes already, when she read about the scholarship, she told me to apply.”

“So you don't want to be a girl?” asked Pattie.

“What choice do I have? I'm a 38C.”

“Well, you could have an operation.”

“Like my parents would spring for that!”

“Doesn't your dad want you to be a boy?”

“Maybe, but not enough to butt heads with my mom. She rules the roost.”

“Oh, that's rough!” said Pattie.

I agreed.

“Besides, everyone at my old school called me names. I'm hoping people will be nicer here.”

“We will,” we both said.

By then we'd found room 105. It was a small classroom with a large table instead of desks. It was called “the seminar room.” At the head of the table was a smartly dressed woman in her late 50s. Some other women sat in chairs behind her.

“Good morning, girls, I am Sarah Wright-Jones, headmistress of Braintree Academy. I want to welcome each of you special girls to our school. You will learn more about our school, its history, rules and customs next week at freshmen orientation. Today we are gathered to deal with topics that only concern you who are new to our gender. For the majority of you, most of what we need to do will only take a day and a half, so you will be able to relax and enjoy the facilities – more about them later. It will take a few days for your test results and some of you may require more assistance in fitting in at Braintree. That is why a full week has been scheduled.

“Most of our staff is still on summer leave, so your orientation will be handled by Ms. Wilkins, our capable basketball coach, Ms. Snyder, our nurse, and Dr. Koebler, our staff psychologist. You have already met Mrs. Robertson, one of our dormitory supervisors.” Each of the women stood briefly as her name was mentioned.

“You will begin by going to Le Magasin. our campus store, located in the basement of this building, to be fitted for, and issued, school uniforms. Uniforms are to be worn to all campus functions unless you are explicitly told otherwise. The normal exceptions are physical education and dance, where you will dress as required by your instructors. You will report back here at 9:30 in your uniforms.

“Any questions?”

There were none.

We went downstairs to Le Magasin, which was a combination bookstore, convenience store and boutique. We lined up and were led, one by one, into the fitting area, where we were met by nurse Snyder.

“Take off your blouse and bra, dear. I need to decide what to do about your titties, sweetie.”

“About my titties?”

“Yes, your breasts dear.”

“I know what titties are. I was just wondering what you are going to do about them?”

“Oh. Most special girls your age are underdeveloped, so I need to see how you're developing and decide what size chest would best suit you.”

“Oh,” I said blushing.

“Mrs. Robertson can't measure you for your uniforms until you're properly sized.” She probed my breasts with her fingers. “You haven't started hormones yet?”

“No,” I said. I hadn't even imagined hormones, but I wasn't sure I should say so.

“Until you grow your own, I think a B-cup breasts would look lovely. You're getting older. You don't want to be behind the other girls, do you?”

“I guess not.”

“This may be a bit cold.” She washed my chest with alcohol, then glued on breast forms. “Hold them in place for two minutes, then report to Mrs. Robertson.”

I was shocked to be the sudden owner of two rather heavy tits. Seeing myself topless in in the fitting room mirror made me feel I was sliding down a slope.

As I stood cupping my new breasts Nurse Snyder started on Pattie. It didn't take her long to decide that D-cups would feminize Pattie's large frame. Pattie was thrilled. I was wasn't sure I could deal with the four or five pounds lready pulling at my chest. So, I was quite happy I only had Bs.

Once the glue set, Mrs. Robertson showed me how to use makeup to hide the breast forms' edges. While she was applying it, the pull on my chest was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. When she finally helped me into a beautiful satin and lace bra, I was grateful for the support it provided.

After a few more measurements, she had me step into a padded girdle. “Pull this up. You'll need to wear padding until your hips develop.” Next, I was given, a pleated navy skirt with a belt and side buttons, a matching blazer, and navy pumps with 2” heels. My skirt came to mid thigh and was called “a scooter” for some reason. “Your other uniforms will be in your room when you get back,” she said before attending to Pattie.

I looked around Le Magasin while I waited for Pattie. It sold almost everything a girl could want: beautiful, if conservative, lingerie; expensive cosmetics; sanitary supplies; even a small selection of jewelry. The snack area had dried fruit, fat-free pop corn and diet drinks.

When Pattie came out, she looked every inch a girl – except for wobbling on her heels. “I never wore heels cuz I'm already too tall.”

“You'll learn. Come over to the mirror, I want you to see how beautiful you are.” She was. In fact, she was the girl of my fantasies – big and strong and able to take care of me. I had to remind myself that she was a boy underneath. I remembered John and decided to watch my fantasies.

We still had fifteen minutes, so I took Pattie's arm and helped her practice walking on the quad. Jane joined us once she was fitted. She had a firmer waist and a more rounded rear, but didn't seem very happy about it.

“You look nice, Jane.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

I couldn't think of anything more to say, so I let it drop.

Cyndie, who was sharing a room with Jane, came out next. If anyone was meant to be a girl it was her. If I were attracted to delicate girls, I would have been in love with her. For her part, Cyndie was concerned about Jane and her unhappiness. She showed her concern with sympathetic affection. We walked back to the seminar room together.

When we were all seated, Dr. Koebler stood up and said that she would be our counselor and oversee our transitions. Nurse Snyder would assist her. Each of us would have individual appointments to evaluate our situation and progress. Mine was for 3:00 PM.

Next, nurse Snyder gave us a long hygiene lecture. She began simply enough. While we could expect the other girls to discover who we were eventually, we were to be discrete about our transgendered status. This was both for our own sakes and that of the school, which did not want to be the scene of a public spectacle.

The embarrassing part came when she said that we should take care to tuck our privates away whenever we left our rooms. She selected Pattie as her model. Most of us were quite embarrassed for her. If we might be seen nude, we should temporally glue ourselves in place. Again, Pattie was her example. When the demonstration was over, she distributed glue and solvent to each of us. By then Pattie was crimson.

If that weren't enough, the next topic was sex. The faculty was under no delusions about what might happen amongst hundreds of teen girls deprived of male company. Still, we were not to have intercourse with a genetic girl on pain of expulsion for both of us. She must not trust us because she gave out condom packets to carry in our purses. I'd seen pictures in health class, but had never touched one. Putting some in my purse seemed very naughty. Fortunately for Pattie, Ms. Snyder used a plastic model for her demonstration.

My head was spinning with how different Braintree was from middle school.

She gave us a bathroom break before starting her next topic – transitioning. We got 45 minutes about counseling, the role of hormones in puberty, anti-androgens, estrogen, side effects, real life tests, and sexual reassignment surgery. All transition services and expenses would be covered as long as were at Braintree. Pattie looked very happy.

I was alarmed, and asked, “Are we all going to get estrogen?”

“That will be decided on a case by case basis by Dr. Koebler and our consulting endocrinologist after your interviews and examinations, dear.”

I was in inner turmoil. Delaying puberty might be OK, but growing tits was something else again. I didn't hear much of what nurse Snyder said after that.

I don't remember much about lunch. I was thinking what I'd say to Dr. Koebler when she interviewed me. I didn't want to admit that I wasn't really transgendered, but I didn't want to be put on estrogen either. When Pattie and I got back to our room, I fell asleep from nervous exhaustion.

Pattie woke me. “Ten to three, sweetie. You need to go to your appointment.”

On the way over, I rehearsed how I'd tell Dr. Koebler that I wanted to wait on starting hormones until my mind was more settled. If I repeated that each year, I'd never take them. Once I had my plan down, I relaxed.

Nurse Snyder measured my weight, height, blood pressure and balls. (I wasn't expecting that.) She took enough blood to satisfy a family of vampires. She also wanted urine and semen samples. I never expected that she'd ask me to – you know – do that. I was very embarrassed, but she acted like it was no big deal.

Once I gave her my samples in a paper bag, she said that a portion would be placed in cryostorage against future need. That puzzled me, but before I could ask about it, she sent me on to Dr. Koebler's office.

I knocked.

“Come in! … Miss Antonelli?”

“Yes.”

“Have a seat.”

I imagined laying on a couch, but she pointed to a comfy chair at her desk. She sat smiling at me with a pen in her hand. In front of her was an open folder. We chatted a bit about what I thought of Braintree so far – it was very beautiful, but had my head spinning – and then got down to business.

“How long have you been dressing more or less full time as a girl?”

“Since October.”

“How did you feel about doing it?”

“I was terrified at first. In fact, I threw up the first morning before leaving for school, but I got a lot of support. So it worked out.”

“You showed a lot of courage facing your fears like that. You must have been pretty determined?”

“Thanks. I needed to do it.” I was trying to decide if I should explain about Judy and her plan, but before I could decide, she moved on.

“I understand. … So how old were you when you first tried girls' clothes?”

“Four or five. I used to play dress up with my friend Judy.”

“How did you feel about it?”

“It was fun. Girls' clothes are more fun to wear than boys'.”

“None of us would argue with that, dear.” She made some notes.

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

“I have lots of girlfriends.”

“Any of them romantic?”

“Not really.”

“What about boyfriends? Any romantic relationships with boys?”

I blushed, thinking of how I liked to snuggle with John. “Nothing, you know … sexual.”

“What about cuddling and kissing?”

By now I was bright red.

“It's OK. I am not trying to pry.” She made some notes. “So, how did this past summer go?”

I told her about trying to babysit, and how I finally made some money with my dress making.

Our conversation went on like that – pretty low key except for asking if I had a boyfriend. She never asked if I wanted to grow breasts or be put on estrogen. So, I never got a chance to tell her the answer I'd rehearsed. I figured we 'd talk more later. I could tell her then.

Two days after that our test results came back. We were called into nurse Snyder's office one at a time. My results were all fine, so she was going to give me an implant. My puberty blocker, I guessed. It would be less stressful if I were mildly sedated. When I woke up I felt good, but an hour later my arm was sore. I felt a little bump under the gauze bandage. I was to leave it on for two days, so, I tried not to mess with it. When it came off, all I had was a small scab.

We had a lot of leisure time. Only Pattie and Jane had extra demands on them. Pattie was spending time working on grace and poise with Ms. Kelvin. Toward the end of the week she went into town and came back with an irritated face and no beard. Jane was also working with Ms Kelvin, but on muscle tone. Nurse Snyder put her on a weight control program. The rest of us were encouraged to read, swim and walk the grounds.

I called mom and told her what was happening. She was a bit put off by our sex education lecture, but decided it was unavoidable. Besides what was done was done.

I also spent a lot of time texting Judy, Sandy, Roz and John. Judy asked me an interesting question. She could understand how my transition expenses might be included in my scholarship, but Pattie was not a scholarship student. Why was Braintree paying for his? It must be costing them a lot of money. I had no answer, and neither did Pattie. She only said that when he was interviewed Cora Jackson said they would be. That made her really anxious to go.

By Wednesday, I felt I could trust my new friends enough to tell Pattie and Jane why I was at Braintree. Pattie deserved to know because she was my roommate and it felt wrong to let her think I was just like her. I thought I should tell Jane so she wouldn't think she was the only one at Braintree who didn't want to be a girl for the rest of her life. I began with Pattie as we spent more time together. She was laying on her bed reading one of her romance novels.

“Pattie, can we talk for a bit, I have something I want you to know.”

“Sure, Mel, what is it?”

“Well, I haven't been entirely honest with you about why I'm here. Jane isn't the only one that doesn't want to end up a woman. I don't want to either.”

Pattie sat up, looking at me. “You mean your mom is forcing you to be a girl – like Jane's?”

“No, she's really nice and would never do that. It's all my idea. No, that's not right, it was my friend Judy's idea.”

“Did she dare you or something?”

“No.”

“I don't understand Mel.”

“Well, I haven't said it very well. You see, Judy and I live in a crappy school district – one of the worst in the state …” I told him the whole story up to the time I got picked up by Ms. Kelvin.

“Well, Mel, I mean George , your one of the bravest gir … ah, boys I know. I thought it took a lot of guts for me to come out, but I had no choice. I couldn't live as a boy. You had a choice. I really admire you, sweetie.” She gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

I was embarrassed. I didn't think I deserved a hug for fooling people. “Thanks, that's more than I expected. I thought you'd be mad at me pretending to be trans.”

“No … but you better watch out, I like boys,” she grinned mischievously.

“I dated a boy last semester, but it wasn't fair to him so I broke it off.”

“Did he know you were a boy?”

“Yes.”

“Then it was his choice.”

“Yeah, but I wasn't right for him. Now he has a really nice boyfriend and they're both happy.”

“You're really nice … should I call you Mel or George?”

“You'd better stick with Mel. There's less chance of a slip up.”

“Right.”

…

No one answered my knock at the door to Jane's room. I finally found her at lunch. She and Cyndie had been been swimming.

“Jane, I'd like to talk to you after lunch. How about a walk?”

“Sure, Cyndie and I found a shady spot near the creek, It's really lovely. I'll show you where it is.” She was right, the spot was beautiful – private, shady and offering a great view of the creek that flowed along one edge of the grounds.

“Jane, I wanted to talk to you about not wanting to be a girl.”

“Cyndie already gave me that talk. I know how nice the clothes are, how many more ways girls have of expressing themselves, the power girls have over boys, and all that. I just don't feel like a girl – even if I look like one and am starting to talk and act like one.”

“That wasn't the talk I wanted to have. I wanted to tell you that you weren't alone. You're not the only girl at Braintree that wants to go back to being a boy,”

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Who else doesn't want to be a girl.”

“Me.”

“What? Your so pretty, Mel, and everything you do screams 'girl'. You even sew your own dresses!”

I blushed. “Well, I do like dresses.”

“Yes, and I saw how you looked at the fitting after you got your bigger chest. You were beaming!”

“Maybe I was.” I was getting defensive and embarrassed.

“You were, darling.”

“Maybe, but I don't want to stay a girl.” I tried to explain how I got into this and planned to go back to being a boy after graduation.

Jane listened patiently. “Mel, I know you want me to feel better and think you're a kindred spirit – but you aren't, darling girl. You enjoy wearing dresses and pretty clothes. You like them so much you design and make them. I wish I never had to wear a skirt again! So, I love you for trying to help, but I think you're fooling yourself.”

I couldn't think of anything that might change her mind and I was embarrassed that she still thought I was a girl after I told her I wanted to be a boy again. So, I said good bye and walked back to my room for a nap.

At dinner Thursday Ms. Kelvin asked if Pattie and I would be in our room after dinner, as she wanted to talk to us. We said we'd expect her.

“Hello girls, I wanted to see both of you, but on different matters. I wanted to ask you, Pattie, if you'd consider jointing the basketball team. You're very tall, and that makes you a good prospect. It might also be good for you, because if you were on the team, no one would think twice about your height. Everyone expects basketball players to be tall.”

“Well, I've never been at all sporty, Ms. Kelvin. It didn't seem very feminine, if you know what I mean.”

“I do, but there are a lot of feminine athletes.”

“Maybe, but I don't even know how to drabble, let alone throw the ball into a basketball ring. The only sport I ever played was soccer because my dad made me, but I didn't like it much. … By the way, why are you asking me now, when I've seen you every day working on grace and poise?”

“Well, I'm hoping Mel will think it is a good idea and give you a little push. … As for not knowing how to dribble or shoot baskets, most of the girls I start with don't either. It's something you could learn with the other girls. I am not asking you to decide now. Just think about it, and maybe discuss it with Mel. OK?”

“OK, Ms. Kelvin. I like you, so I'll think about it, but no promises.”

“Thank you. That's all I'm asking.

“Mel, dear, you promised to show me some of the dresses you made.”

“OK.” I had pictures on my cell phone that I showed mothers when I was trying for an order. I showed them to her.

“Mel, these are really cute! Still, I need something more adult. Do you have any here I could see?”

I showed her three I'd made for myself.

“Mel, I didn't know you made those,” Pattie said. “I wish I could sew like that.”

“I could show you.”

“It wouldn't do any good. I'm all thumbs. My auntie Maylene tried to show me. I wound up sewing the wrong side to the right side and all my seams were so crooked I screamed!”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's OK. I plan on marrying a rich hedge fund operator who 'll spoil me rotten with Jimmy Choo and Prada shoes, Reem Acra and Melissa Antonelli gowns, and diamonds galore!” She got dreamy eyed.

Ms. Kelvin waited for the fairy dust to settle, then said, “You do really gook work, Mel. I know you'll be busy once the semester starts, but would there be time to make me a dress? I'd pay you of course.”

“It depends on how complicated it is. Also, I don't have a sewing machine. I borrowed one from my friend's mother.”

“Well, how about I buy you a nice one in exchange for the dress?”

“That would be wonderful, but it depends on the dress. Do you have a style in mind?”

“Yes, there's one I love on the Nordstom website, but I can't afford it.”

The one she liked was a Missoni rib knit sheath with horizontal strips. The dress was simple enough. The problem would be finding a knit with stripes she liked. No small-town fabric store would carry such an exotic fabric. After an hour we found a fabric on line that could be delivered Saturday. It was not the same pattern as the Missoni, but she was thrilled with it anyway.

Friday morning was feeling a bit nauseous, and did not eat much breakfast. Actually, it was the second morning that I felt a little off, but I didn't think much about it.

When I was done, Mrs. Robertson told me to report to the bursar's office. There I was surprised to receive $40.00 – my weekly stipend. My account would be credited with a similar amount every Friday. I could withdraw funds any school day between 7:00 and 4:00. I was in shock. If I saved my money, I might have well over $1000.00 by June!

Back at my room, Ms. Kelvin was waiting for me. She drove Pattie and me into town to buy a sewing machine. We went to JoAnn. I liked the Singer 3223R which was a scrumptious raspberry color, and only cost $99.99. Ms. Kelvin insisted she buy a better machine. We settled on the computerized Brother CS6000i. It was marked down from $349.99 to $199.99. Unlike Mrs. Myers' old Singer with its one straight stitch and single foot, it had 60 stitches and seven feet! I had no idea what I'd do with them all, but bought remnants to practice on.

While she was paying for the machine, the sales lady asked Ms. Kelvin what she was going to sew with it. She responded it was for me, and I'd be sewing her a knit dress based on a Missoni design.

The lady was very surprised. “Have you sewn knits before dear?”

“No.”

“Their stretch can make them a challenge. Here let me show you.” She spent half an hour showing me how to set up my machine and demonstrating technique on knit scraps. Then she had me try and corrected me until I had it down. I was very grateful. I'm sure I would have made a mess of the dress without her help.

Meanwhile Pattie been roaming the store fascinated by the fabric patterns and colors. She fell in love with an inexpensive cotton print with lavender roses on a black background. It was a good choice for her because the dark colors make you look smaller. She asked if I could make a skirt and top for her. I suggested an empire waist dress that would flare out when she twirled. She liked that even better, and offered to pay me. It would only take a couple of hours, so I said if she'd wait until I finished Ms. Kelvin's dress, it would be my gift. She kissed me.

Ms. Kelvin took us to a diner for lunch, and we all drove back happy.

That afternoon I played with my new sewing machine while Pattie retreated to the en suite to play with something else. She emerged quite flushed. I played with myself fairly often, so I was in no position to judge. I'd never been that close to another person's sexuality and didn't know how I felt about it. It was something I'd have to get used to. I thought of what Ms. Synder had said about what might happen amongst 1200 girls deprived of male companionship and decided my feelings about Pattie hadn't changed.

When I'd played with my machine enough, I wanted to sew something real. “Pattie, I have time to start your dress now. Let me measure you.” I could hardly believe that her breasts were 42” and was worried that her bodice would take more fabric than we had. Then I remembered that we'd bought extra so I could make a really full skirt that would flare out when she twirled. By dinner, I had it all cut.

I haven't said much about our meals, but we six ate alone except for Mrs. Robinson serving us our potions and then leaving. Our common experiences lead to dinnertime discussions and comparisons. Slowly, we all became friends. Even Casey and Paula thawed out. Pattie and I decided that they had romantic feelings for each other. That night they decided there was no point in trying to pretend they didn't so they told us they'd been girlfriends for about a year.

They'd met at the private school their parents sent them to and were drawn to each other as kindred spirits. Eventually, they had regular sleepovers. Usually, their parents left them alone as they had more important things to do, but one night Casey's mother came to her room to tell her about a change in plans for the next day and found them made up, dressed in baby dolls and kissing. A lot of screaming ensued – most of it about what people at the club would think. Their parents got together, decided that they were hopeless and there was no point in trying to change them. The best solution was to ship them off to Braintree, where they'd embarrass their families as little as possible.

They'd only been full-time girls since the beginning of summer. I asked how they convinced their interviewer, who turned out to be Ms. Cora Jackson, that they were transgender.

“Oh, she didn't need convincing. When we told her we liked girl's clothes, she was happy to have us – two more paying customers, I suppose,” said Paula.

“Yeah, I got the impression that she'd accept anyone willing to wear a dress,” added Casey.

Pattie interjected, “She accepted me and I didn't look at all like a girl.”

“And me, and I told her I only wore dresses because my mom made me,” added Jane.

We sat quietly, eating our fresh fruit dessert cups, trying to make sense of it, but couldn't.

It was a pleasant evening so after dinner we all went for a walk along the creek. We walked along in pairs with Pattie and I in front. Casey and Paula took up the rear, where they stopped for an occasional kiss when the rest of us rounded a bend.

When we got back to our room I sewed the bodice of Pattie's dress, then I searched the net to learn how to make an embellishment I wanted to surprise her with. I glance over to make sure she wasn't looking over my shoulder. She was on her bed in her floral nitie reading a paperback whose cover featured a muscular guy above a woman overflowing her bodice – too occupied to see what I was researching. Making the embellishments turned out to be simple, so I took the lavender silk ribbon I'd bought and started to work. By the time I'd finished I was ready for bed.

I'd slept in my underwear at home, but when I opened my suitcase the first night, I discovered two gorgeous, lace trimmed nities. They were so silky! One was pale violet and the other was rose. I loved them both – they made me feel so … sexy.

I came out of the en suite with tissues lining my panties. Once the lights were out, I ran my hands over my satin nitie from my new breasts to my panties. I decided I'd wear satin to bed from now on – even when I went back to being a boy.

I dreamed of feeding the fawns again, but this time I was dancing between them in an airy cream dress. John was watching me, smiling. Then John morphed into Pattie dressed in short shorts and a tight basketball jersey. I thought how strong her arms looked.

Saturday morning we had breakfast at 8:00. Again I was feeling off, but wolfed down my food anyway as I wanted to finish Pattie's dress before Ms. Kelvin's fabric arrived. When I got back to the room, I was close to vomiting, but felt better after a bit. By the time Pattie returned, I was ready to mark the hem. I had her wear her navy pumps and I sat on the floor to mark the hem. It came to just above her knees – short enough to be cute, but long enough to flare widely when she twirled.

“Go away and come back in an hour. I want to surprise you,” I ordered.

An hour later I had hemmed the dress and added my surprise embellishments.

“Here, try it on!”

“Oh, Mel, it's gorgeous! I just love the little lavender roses along the neckline! How ever did you make them?” She said, admiring herself in the mirror before turning to give me a hug and kiss on the lips.

“Trade secret. … but, I'll show you if you want to know.”

“No, I'm hopeless. … but I do love them – they're so precious!”

“Do a twirl.”

She did, but the dress didn't flare out as I'd hoped. I frowned. I didn't say anything, but looked in my purse.

“Do you have any pennies?”

“Pennies?”

“Yes.”

“Let me see – thirteen cents.”

“I have seven. Twenty cents should do it. Take off your dress.”

Pattie looked puzzled but complied.

“Come back in half an hour.”

When she returned the dress flared beautifully, the hem weighted by our pennies.

Pattie was swinging her hips back and forth, making her dress swirl, when she saw Ms. Kelvin walking across the quad. Shortly, she knocked at our door.

“Is that the dress you made for Pattie? It's lovely.”

“Yes, it is. Thanks. ... Pattie, show Ms. Kelvin the special feature.”

Pattie turned so fast her panties showed.

“I've never seen a dress do that!”

“That's because you've never seen an Antonelli twenty cent dress before!”

“A twenty cent dress?”

I explained.

“Your a genius, dear! And now you're going to be my genius seamstress,” she said opening the bag she carried. As I expected, it was the fabric for her dress.

We talked a while longer. No, Pattie had not decided whether to try basketball. Finally, I measured Ms. Kelvin and she left. Pattie left at the same time to show the other girls her dress.

It was the first time I'd been alone for a while. Once the rush from gratitude and enthusiasm wore off, I started feeling lonely. I missed my mom. I wanted to call her, but she was working and I shouldn't disturb her. By the time Pattie returned I was a mess – crying quietly on my bed.

“What's wrong, sweetie?”

“I feel lonely and miss my mom,” I sniffled.

Pattie sat on my bed and gave me a hug. I sat up next to her. She put her arms around me and held me to her breasts. The little roses on her bodice tickled my nose. She rocked me a little and gently kissed my cheek. I relaxed into her, glad to be held. She looked down at me and kissed me on the lips. I felt better. We leaned back and lay holding each other, exchanging kisses until I fell asleep.

When I woke, Pattie was still holding me, but had fallen asleep herself. I thought I should feel embarrassed kissing a boy like that – but Pattie was no boy. She was a very sweet girl. I was glad to be in her arms.

Sunday morning at breakfast, Mrs. Robinson announced it was time to move out of the guest lodge, and into the freshman dorms. We special girls would be paired with each other, at least for our freshman year. Did any of us wish to trade room mates? No one did. There were a limited number of baggage carts, so we had to finish with them by 11:00 to make them available to the girls who 'd be arriving later.

It didn't take Pattie and I long to move. One trip with the luggage cart piled high was enough. I took special care to make sure my new sewing machine didn't come to harm. Our new room was smaller and older than that in the lodge. We didn't have a private bath, but shared one with the girls in the next room. In fact, you could walk through the bath into their room if they left their door open. We were on the third floor, so we'd be getting a lot of exercise, as we discovered hauling our stuff up the stairs.

From about 11:00 until long after dinner, buses and cars rolled up disgorging girls. Many were happy and giggling, some serious and studious looking, a few looked sad or even scared.

About 3:00 our first suite mate, Kimberly, arrived by bus. Pattie and I helped carry her luggage and put her things away. Her clothes barely fit in the closet – definitely a clothes horse, but with a lot of outfits Pattie and I liked. She seemed nice enough – about my height, with a natural smile and light brown hair in a ponytail. I could tell she was religious because she hung a cross over her bed.

Her room mate, Sue, arrived about 5:30 with her parents and older brother – so she needed no help carrying her stuff. She was a couple of inches taller than me, thin, and had a mass of blond curls. A little acne marred her sweet, round face.

Her brother, Rudy, was a high school junior. He had a square jaw, broad shoulders, blue eyes and wavy blond hair. Every time he carried something up, he smiled at me while almost ignoring Kimberly and Pattie. His attention made me feel special, so I smiled back. When his parents started back to their car, he stayed back to ask my phone number. I gave it to him without thinking. He thanked me, gave me a quick kiss and ran down the stairs to catch up with his folks.

I stood enjoying the tingle for a minute. When I turned Pattie was glaring at me, but said nothing until we got back to our room. “What's going to happen when he finds out you're a boy and want to stay one, sweetie?”

“You're right Pattie. I wasn't thinking. If he calls or texts, I'll tell him I'm interested in girls.”

“Are you?”

I didn't answer. I liked being kissed by boys and I'd never been really kissed by any girl but Pattie. I must like girls more. Boys were supposed to.

Judy found me at dinner. She was assigned to room with Nancy, the child of an English engineer and his reporter wife. Nancy was quiet, maybe because of her Midlands accent, so I didn't learn much more about her. I was happy that Judy and Pattie seemed to hit it off. I like my friends to get along.

After dinner, Judy and I took a walk. Her week had been pretty uneventful -- mostly babysitting and packing. I filled her in on my week, starting with the uniform fitting session. She liked my larger chest and wider hips, and asked how I felt about my new figure. I surprised myself by admitting that I liked how I looked. She asked how Pattie and I got along and smiled when I told her about us kissing. Somehow, that made me feel better about it.

I hadn't done a thing on Ms. Kelvin's dress all day, and I was too tired to do anything when I got back to my room. Sue and Kimberly were arguing about something, so we were a bit timid in asking if we could use the bathroom first. Pattie and I showered to save time in the morning. When we finished we locked the door on our side to keep the noise down. We were asleep shortly after 9:00.

I dreamt about fawns again. This time I was hugging and petting them. Suddenly I was a fawn. Rudy came out of the bushes to hug and pet me. As he got close, the other fawns panicked and ran off. Rudy was upset at scaring them and I was left alone.

In the morning, I woke up before the 6:30 bell, still a little nauseous. I peed and was brushing my teeth when the bell startled me. I was still brushing when a sleepy Sue knocked – in a night gown so diaphanous her nipples showed clearly.

“Excuse me, I need to tinkle before I wet myself.”

I blushed and pressed my legs together to keep from popping out of my panties. She smiled, pulled down her panties, and sat to relieve herself I stared more than I should, then tried to cover my blushing by washing my face and spending a lot of time rubbing it dry.

“My mom says you should pat, not rub, Melissa. Rubbing is bad for your complexion.”

“Oh! Thanks. I guess I'm a tomboy still.”

“I've always been a girlie girl. … You know what?”

“What?”

“My mom read that there are some real boys here – you know ones that want to be girls like us.”

“Oh.”

“Do you think we'll be able to tell who they are?”

“I have no idea.”

“Well, it'll be interesting to see.”

“So, what if you do find out?”

“I don't know. Maybe congratulate them for being smarter than other boys. What do you think?”

“I think they might be embarrassed to be singled out. They just want to be who they are – just like you and me.”

“I s'pose so. … How much longer are you guys going to be?”

“Not too long. We showered last night. We'll knock when were done.”

When I returned to our room, Pattie was in a panic. “I heard you guys talking. She's sure to see me without my make up. She'll know I was a boy!”

“We'll just say you're a basketball player – like Ms. Kelvin suggested.”

“I don't know.” Pattie was doing her make up as fast as she could.

Uniforms were not required for orientation. I thought the girls from rich families like Casey and Paula might dress to impress, so I wore my cobalt fit and flare dress. Pattie wore her twenty cent dress with black rumba panties. (When we moved, I discovered she had a huge collection of frilly panties. In contrast, mine were plain cotton pastels except for a lacy white satin pair mom bought me to wear under my confirmation dress.)

“I hope you are not planning to do a twirl that shows those off, Pattie!”

“A girl can never tell,” she smiled.

“You better not, or we won't be doing any more snuggling.”

“You're no fun at all!” she pouted, then gave me a kiss on the cheek.

We sat with Casey, Paula, Jane, Cyndie, Judy and Nancy at breakfast. I sat next to Pattie and across from Judy. Nancy wondered about orientation. Pattie started to say something about Sarah Wright-Jones, but I kicked her under the table and broke in.

“Yes, we met her when we got here. She's the headmistress, you know – seems rather serious. I expect she'll be very formal – give us a prepared speech or something.”

After breakfast, we walked to the main auditorium. On the way Pattie asked why I kicked her.

“Do you want everyone to know we've been here for a week and wonder why?”

“No, I suppose not.”

“OK, then be careful.”

“Good morning, girls, I am Sarah Wright-Jones, headmistress of Braintree Academy. I want to welcome each of you to our school. Today we are gathered to orient you freshman girls to student life at Braintree. You will learn about our school, its history, rules and customs. …”

She droned on for almost an hour about the school's stored history and influential graduates. By the end my bottom was quite sore.

“… You will all learn that knowledge is power and thus become the next generation of powerful Braintree women.”

Ms. Harding, a math teacher and the prefect of discipline, stood up and directed us to the freshman dining hall to pick up our class schedules. Then we were to go to Le Magasin to buy our books and uniforms if we still needed them.

My schedule was algebra, women's history, French, introduction to dance, lunch, English, psychology, and art. The text books must have weighed fifty pounds and cost almost $300.00. Luckily, my scholarship covered them. Pattie bought mostly used books but still spent over $200.00. I'd left my backpack at home, and bought a pink one with the Braintree logo for $35.00 of my own money. So much for saving money.

I had the afternoon free and made good progress on Ms. Kelvin's dress. I was ever so glad the lady at the fabric store had shown me how to sew knits. Even then, I had to unsew almost as much as I sewed before I got into the rhythm of it. I expected to finish by the end of the week if I didn't have too much homework.

Pattie came in and said little. I could tell she was still miffed at what she called my flirting with Rudy. I thought I was just being polite.

About 3:30, I got a text from Rudy asking how my day went. I replied that I shouldn't have led him on, as I was more interested in girls than guys. I wished him well.

When I got tired of stitching Ms Kelvin's dress, I looked at my new textbooks. The algebra text began with things I already knew, so I wasn't worried about it. I'd never heard of women's history, so I was curious about it. There were chapters about the Greeks (featuring Sappho), the Egyptians (female goddesses, priestesses, overseers, a woman pharaoh called Hatshepsut, and Cleopatra), and so on. As I'd only heard about Cleopatra, I was sure to learn a lot of new stuff. I couldn't figure out how to pronounce French, so I stopped trying before I developed bad habits. The English text had mostly women writers. Our psychology book had so many new words I gave up. For art we had an illustrated history and a workbook. I liked both. The workbook explained composition, proportion, perspective and so on. I really enjoyed some of the exercises.

When I was done looking at my new books, Pattie asked to see what I looked like in my dance togs.

“What dance togs?”

“The ones you bought for dance class, silly.”

“What? I didn't know we were supposed to.”

“Look at the bottom of your schedule.”

Sure enough, there was a note saying we needed a leotard, tights and ballet flats. I ran into Le Magasin just before it closed, but there were still lots of girls waiting to check out, so I had time to get my togs. I was the last to check out.

Tuesday was the beginning of classes. I still felt a bit off when I got up.

Again, Sue came in to relieve herself while I was still in the bathroom, but this time she was only wearing the panties of a baby doll set.

“I saw you staring at my boobs yesterday.”

I blushed and my heart raced.

“It's OK. Rudy texted you like girls, so I understand. I thought I'd give you a better look this morning. I hope you appreciate the view.”

I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to look, but she had gorgeous little tits with large aureoles and perky nipples, so it was hard not to. Finally I did. “I do like girls, but I want to know them as people before we get … You know, close. I'll come back when your done.”

“Don't go. I'm sorry.” She looked embarrassed and put an arm over her chest. “I never met a lesbian before, and … well, I'm curious. Besides there aren't any boys here – well none that I know – and … Please don't tell anyone.” Tears were forming in her eyes.

I felt sorry for her. “Look, we're all trying to figure out how to act and how to be, so we're bound to be dorky sometimes. Don't worry, I won't tell. We all have things we want to keep secret.” I leaned down and gave her an awkward hug and kiss on the cheek. Then I closed the door behind me. I went back after I heard her flush, wash and close the door behind her. This time I locked the door to her room. I didn't tell Pattie what happened.

Our schedules varied so we'd meet different girls in different classes and get to know more people. Pattie was in my algebra class, but not in women's history. Sue and Judy were. Of course, you can't get to know 300 girls, but I got to recognize quite a few.

Algebra was different than any of the math classes I'd taken before. There was no review of old material. Instead, Ms. Harding wrote down the axioms we'd be using and started explaining how to use them. I could see that Pattie was already lost. Math was not her thing. I resolved to help her.

We had Ms. Crawford for women's history. She wore her hair shorter than most boys and dressed in a tweed jacket, chocolate slacks, and a shirt and tie. We all had a warped view reality, because it's been shaped by men who selected some facts and ignored others to suppress women and support male power. She'd insure that we had a more accurate understanding of the world by the end of the year. We'd learn that women were smarter, emotionally stronger and made most of the decisions in modern families. I had to agree that my mother was like that.

She said that since men ran things, sometimes there was not as much documentation on women’s history as men's, so we had to use our imaginations to fill in the missing links. (I wondered how that happened if women made most of the decisions, but Ms. Crawford didn't seem like she was open to questions.) Anyway, she started with Sappho of Lesbos, who lived in the 600s BC. She was the best of the nine lyric poets of ancient Greece, which was what they had instead of pop song writers. Rhodopis was the most beautiful woman of her time, desired by men, but she chose to love Sappho over all her male admirers. Our homework was an essay on what made Sappho a great role model for educated women.

Mademoiselle Bonbleu was our French teacher. She was in her early twenties, had an enormous chest, and wore a scarlet satin blouse with a huge bow to draw attention to it. She told us how lucky we were that she was condescending to teach us the language of romance and diplomacy, as she was descended form Gascon nobility. Class was very boring, as we spent forty minutes drilling on how to pronounce Js and Us properly. We had still not satisfied her when the bell rang. I consoled myself that when we finally did learn some French, we'd pronounce it flawlessly.

I had dance instead of PE because I hated sports and had requested it on my application. Once I put my tights and leotard on, I was glad for my breast forms as falsies would have been pretty obvious. Our teacher was Michele Danseur, who was not French as far as I cold tell. He'd been a chorus dancer on Broadway before he retired. We'd be learning modern dance as we'd be in the chorus of a musical production with the “delightful boys” of Wroxford Seminary just before Christmas break. (Wroxford Seminary was “an upstart boy's boarding school” in the town of Wroxford, about 15 miles away. It was an upstart because it only dated back to 1917, while Braintree had been founded in 1848.)

When some of the girls got dreamy eyed about dancing with the “delightful boys,” he recalled that most of the boys in last year's performance had been too delightful to show much interest in girls. One or two of the girls muttered rude epithets. Michele (that is what we were to call him) chided them and said that artistic pursuits attracted boys with “aetherial souls” – whatever they were. We spent the rest of the period learning ballet positions and doing bar exercises.

At lunch Judy was beside herself with what she thought was Ms. Crawford's twisting of the known facts about Sappho. Sue didn't care, but thought it was great that Sappho was so powerful and accomplished, and rejected males. Even if Ms. Crawford did fill in some holes, she was teaching the class. We should write what she wanted to see in our homework and tests and not worry what other books might say – they were mostly written by men, anyway.

Ms. Cunningham, who looked old enough to have met Jane Austin, was our English teacher. She told us that we should view literature as a garden, in which we might skip from one flower to another, instead of plodding through it as a museum in which we must read every card in every case. To make her point the taught us about the life and works of Sarah Scott, one of the Bluestockings. She lead a wonderful life filled with trials, literary production, feminine domestic companionship and works of charity. It was much more interesting than any English class I had before. I left wanting to learn more of Sarah's life and works.

Dr. Koebler was our psychology teacher. We'd be learning about the male and female psyche, what motivated people to act as they do, and how to use this knowledge to become women of power and influence. She outlined the theories of Freud, teaching us about the id, the ego and the super ego and how dreams revealed our subconscious mind. When I discussed this with Judy at dinner, she frowned and went on about Popper's falsifiability criterion showing Freud's theories were unscientific. Still, some of his ideas explained things I'd wondered about, so maybe it wasn't all nonsense.

Art was my favorite class. Ms. Sanchez was our teacher. She'd been all over the world and wowed us with pictures she'd taken showing the development of art from the cavemen to works still hanging in New York galleries, waiting to be appreciated for the first time. It really got my juices flowing to see it laid out like that. I knew I'd never be up to the level of anything she showed, but I wanted to get back to my sketch pad and sewing machine, and create something – anything.

As we were all walking back to our rooms after dinner, Sue asked if she could talk to me. So we drifted away from the group and headed toward the creek.

“Mel, I feel really weird about what I did.”

I did not want to think about it, because when I did I couldn't help but see her topless, which made my tucked penis uncomfortably hard. “Look, I said I wouldn't tell, and I won't. So forget about it.”

“I believe you, but I want you to .. well not think I'm some kind of lesbian slut. I never was attracted to girls before … but there's something about you … maybe because your kind of a Tomboy with your hair and all … not like other girls … and I don't know … like … how girls let other girls know … you know … that they're interested. It's easy for you because you already knew you liked other girls … You and Judy already knew each other – and I see how jealous Pattie is with you … maybe you could … like help me out here.” She was blushing and her eyes were starting to water.

She was being so open with me, I couldn't lie. “Sue, your asking the wrong person. Maybe your not attracted to girls at all.”

She looked very puzzled.

“Look, you have to promise not to tell, but after you spilled your guts to me, I have to tell you the truth – you aren't attracted to girls – I'm one of those boys you were talking about the other morning.”

She stopped walking and looked stunned. “No way!”

“Way.”

“Does Pattie know?”

“Yes.”

“Are you two … you know … doing it?”

“No.”

She was silent for a while, then and started walking again. Slowly, relief spread over her face. “So, your not a lez, and neither am I! … and when you texted Rudy … God! He'd die if he knew he kissed a boy – even a trans boy!” She started belly laughing so hard she had to stop walking.

“Let's not tell him. OK?”

“Yeah sure! It'd kill him!” She giggled.

“And you'll keep this between us?”

“On one condition.”

“Condition?”

“Yeah, I want to see it and touch it.”

“What?”

“You know, your dick, silly! I never saw or touched one before – well except on a baby changing diapers.”

“I don't know. I mean no girl ever touched it – or even saw it.”

“I thought you said you liked girls?”

“I think I do, but it's kind of – well, theoretical.”

“Theoretical? Theoretical!” Now she was laughing harder than before. She laughed so hard that she had to sit on a bench to recover. When she did, she asked, “Well, are you going to let me see it? You want me to keep my mouth shut don't you?”

“This isn't fair. I kept your secret for free.”

“Yeah, you're not me. I want to see and touch one and there aren't all that many at Braintree. So, deal?”

“Yeah, OK,” I said reluctantly. Well, my brain was reluctant anyway.

She grabbed my hand and dragged me back to the dorm. “We'll each go into the bathroom from our own side and turn on the shower, that way Kimberly and Pattie won't know we're in there together.”

“OK.” Part of me felt relieved that it wasn't my choice. Being forced made me feel less guilty.

“Well, let's see!”

I unzipped my skirt and started to grab my girdle, when she said, “No! Everything off! I want to see all of you!”

“That wasn't the deal!”

“It's my deal, so I set the rules! Strip.”

What could I do? I was starting to feel helpless, but somehow I didn't mind. Once I had my skirt and blouse off, she said, “Your bra is prettier than mine! Now, take it off so I can see you as a boy.”

I did.

“Whoa! Where did you get those? They're bigger than mine … You on hormones?”

I blushed. “They're breast forms!”

She ran her hand over them and gave them a squeeze. “They feel real.” She stoked my nipple gently. “Can you feel that?”

“Of course not.”

“Too bad, I like doing it.” She was getting flush as well. OK, girdle next.”

I popped out as soon as my girdle was down.

“This is so sexy – half girl and half boy – even if the boy half is not as big as I expected.” She reached out and touched me.

“You can feel that can't you?”

“Yes,” I managed to breathe out.

“And it feels nice? Not like a theory?”

“No, not like a theory.”

“Do you want me to hold it?”

I was silent. As soon as she wrapped he fingers around me I made a mess all over her skirt.

“Wow! No wonder my cousin complains about boys who cum too soon! … and look what you've done to my skirt!”

“I think you did it, Sue.”

“Yeah, I guess I did. That was so cool – like you'd do what ever I told you! … Well almost anyway.”

“I better rinse off so Pattie thinks I was showering. Then you can wash your skirt.”

“Yeah. I'll tell Kimberly I got spaghetti sauce on it at dinner.”

When I got back to my room my face was still flush.

“No need to guess what you were doing in there so long,” Pattie said.

God, she knows, I thought. Panic gripped me and my face reddened more.

“No need to be so embarrassed. It's not like you're the only one.”

Oh, she thinks I was … Still, I knew what happened. What I didn't know was how I felt about it. Part of me wanted to do it again as soon as possible, but part of me was humiliated that Sue had “had her way with me.” Why hadn't I stood up to her? Sure, every red-blooded boy, or girl, or whatever I was, wanted sex, but there was more than that. Part of me liked Sue telling me what to do. It gave me a rush. I didn't know if I liked that part of me. A final part of me felt that the whole thing was wrong in a way too vague to figure out.

Anyway, I was very embarrassed, and Pattie smirking didn't help. I decided she didn't deserve to be tutored in algebra – at least not tonight. Putting on my satin nitie did make me feel better. Despite what happened when Sue held my boy part, I felt like such a girl. I sat quietly for a while, unable to concentrate on my homework. Eventually, my conscience got the better of me. It wasn't Pattie's fault that I let myself be Sue's toy. So, I helped Pattie understand the algebra axioms and how they worked. When I finished, I felt better about myself.

My homework didn't take long until I got to my women's history essay. I read about Sappho on line to see what was fact and what was Ms. Crawford “filling in gaps.” There was a lot of filling in. Still, Ms. Crawford had a point – if women had written her history, we'd know a lot more about Sappho. Maybe we'd know what Ms. Crawford filled in. I thought about Judy complaining that's not how you do history, and Sue saying it didn't matter because Ms. Crawford was the teacher and we should just tell her what she wants to hear.

Once I got started, the beginning of my essay went fast. I stated the facts, and used weasel words to add Ms. Crawford's fill-ins: “we can imagine that …” and “it's natural to think that …” The hard part was deciding what sort of role model Sappho was for us – well, you know, for women. I was stuck there for a while. Finally, I thought, “What kind of role model was she for me?” The artistic part was easy. I related it to my dress designing – Ms. Crawford would eat that up. The lesbian part was harder to figure out. I thought about John making out with me, kissing and snuggling with Pattie, and being Sue's toy. I finally wrote that Sappho figured out who she was and who she loved, and we should all admire that. It sure was something I hadn't managed to do.

I was in bed by 9:30 and quickly asleep. The fawns again. This time I was one, but Sue had put a collar around my neck and attached a leash. She was leading me on a beautiful walk by the creek. The other fawns were looking at me. I was proud she'd selected me to be her pet, but then the other fawns started snickering. I wanted to go back and play with them but she was pulling on the leash, choking me. I woke up with my nitie tangled around me so badly that I had to get out of bed to straighten it.

When I went back to sleep I was in women's history sitting at an old fashion double desk with Sue. She had her hand under my skirt, caressing my thigh. Ms. Crawford saw her doing it and smiled. Sue pushed her hand between my legs. I relaxed them a little and she moved her hand up. I woke up pulsing in my panties – my first wet dream.

When the morning bell rang, I'd slept little and was nauseous to boot. I decided to skip breakfast and see nurse Snyder instead. I had to wait on the bench outside of her office until she arrived a little after 7:30.

“What seems to be the problem, dear?”

“I think I must have a bug. I've been nauseous every morning for about a week.”

“Any fever?”

I shook my head no.

She swiped an electronic thermometer across my forehead and into my ear. “Looks like you're fine. A lot of our girls get nauseous at first, but you'll find it's worth it. It should go away in a week or two.” She went to a cupboard and put some pills in a tiny envelop. “Take one of these in the morning if your tummy's bothering you. You'll feel better in about 15 minutes.”

“Thanks.”

“Off you go, dear.”

I took a pill at the drinking fountain. As I walked to algebra, I wondered what could be worth it?

The rest of the morning was pretty uneventful. I got called to the board in algebra and so pleased Ms. Harding with my explanation that she set me a harder problem that I also figured out. In women's history we learned how Aristotle thought women were defective males, and ranked them below men but higher than slaves. In French we learned the rules of pronunciation and were individually asked to pronounce words Mlle. Bonbleu wrote on the board. One or two of the girls got a ruler on their open palms for prononciation de horrible. Michele had us line up by height, put our arms on each other's shoulders, and practice synchronized high kicks until our muscles ached. I figured they'd come in handy if I ever needed to defend whatever was left of my virtue. It did instill a sense of unity and timing. We looked pretty good in the mirror before we pooped out.

All the while, what happened with Sue would pop into my head, and every time it did, it was painfully embarrassing. Not only had I let Sue “have her way with me,” but I had completely lost control and messed all over her skirt. On top of that, she'd said my penis didn't measure up! I wondered if she'd seen other boys or looked at dirty pictures like some of the boys at Emerson did. Anyway, the whole thing made me so nauseous I didn’t want to repeat it.

At lunch Sue came by our table. Luckily, there was no room for her, so she looked frustrated. She asked where I was at breakfast. I said I wasn't feeling well and went to see nurse Snyder.

“Yeah, periods can be real bitches!” she said before leaving reluctantly.

I didn't know how to take that. Maybe it was just her way of keeping my secret. Judy and Pattie both looked at me like, what was that about? I shrugged.

Part of me wanted to talk to someone, maybe Judy, or even Dr. Koebler, but it was so painful thinking about it, I decided it would be best if I just pretended it didn't happen. Besides, what could Judy do? And, if I talked to Dr. Koebler, I'd probably get in trouble.

In English, Ms. Cunningham moderated a spirited discussion about Sarah Scott and the Bluestockings. She read passages and asked us to relate them to her life events. We all agreed that 18th century England was a crappy place to live if you were female. We wondered if her husband was gay. Either way, it was easy to see why Sarah never consummated her marriage and preferred the companionship of Lady Barbara Montagu. Psych was a different story. I alternated between falling asleep and waking up at hearing Dr. Koebler say things that reminded me of what Sue and I did. Luckily, I didn't fall out of my seat, and she didn't ask or expect questions. Art was easier to stay awake for. We learned how sculpture developed from bas relief and fertility idols to the fluid creations of classical Greece

After class, Sue stopped me in the hallway, wanting to talk. She had a look I couldn't read. I told her I had an appointment and didn't have time. Still, I got very uncomfortable tucked back in my girdle. I hurried off to the library, like I was supposed to meet someone there.

When I got there I saw Sue following me. Maybe she didn't believe me, or maybe she wanted to see who I was meeting. Looking around, I saw Judy sitting at a table, making notes in a book.

“What cha readin'?”

“The Power of Women in a Post Modern Society.” She showed me the cover.

“Is it good?”

“Well, it's got some good points, but there's a lot of bull shit about power making truth. You have to sort the potatoes from the manure. You want to read it when I'm done?”

“I think I'll pass.”

“If your going to be a girl at this school, you should learn about this stuff.”

“Maybe you could just tell me what I need to know when your done?”

“Maybe,” she said noncommittally.

“Mel, did you know that Sue followed you in and is behind the Greek literature shelves spying on us?” she said, not looking directly in Sue's direction.

“Oh, God!”

“What's with the two of you?”

'”It's embarrassing.”

“It can't be any more embarrassing than pretending to be a girl, or making out with Pattie.”

“We weren't making out, just kissing … But, yeah, it is … more embarrassing I mean.”

“Do tell.”

“Not here, someone might hear, let’s go for a walk by the creek.”

Judy said she thought we were being followed. I glanced back, and saw Sue darting into the trees behind us, but she was too far away to hear us.

“It started the other morning when I was brushing my teeth and Sue came into the bathroom to pee …” I told her the whole story except what I promised Sue I would keep secret. The missing parts made Judy ask embarrassing questions, but I just said there were some things I promised not to talk about.

“So that's why she was buzzing around at breakfast and lunch, and spying on us in the library. You're her boy-girl toy. How do you feel about that?”

“Confused.”

“Confused?”

“Yeah, part of me liked it, part of me is mad because she changed the rules, but mostly I'm so embarrassed by it all I just want to pretend it didn't happen.”

“I don't think Sue's going to let you pretend it didn't happen.” With that she turned and waved at Sue who was trying to hide in some bushes about 30 yards away. She blushed and ran off.

“I wish you hadn't done that. I don't know what she'll do now.”

“She'll do whatever you let her do, so you better decide what that is.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” I walked back to my room. There was no sign of Sue.

I tried my best to put Sue out of my mind and do my homework. Mostly I succeeded, but whenever I'd try to relax between tasks, the memory of what happened would pop into my mind. I found myself reaching up under my skirt and fondling myself through my panties. I was fantasizing being held and kissed, but who was doing it was very vague. It wasn't long until I made a mess of my panties. If I didn't change them, my skirt would soon be stained, but if I got fresh panties and changed, Pattie would know what I'd been doing. I decided it would be worse if she saw a wet spot on my skirt. So, I got a fresh pair of panties and retreated to the bathroom.

“My God, Mel, don't you have any self control?”

“I guess not,” I admitted shame-faced.

Once in the bathroom, I realized how tired I was after my stressful day and decided to get ready for bed. Then I realized that if I'd taken my nitie out of the drawer with my clean panties, Pattie wouldn’t have guessed what I was doing. Oh well. Live and learn.

I slept so soundly that I didn't remember my dreams. I woke early. By the time I was in the bathroom, I was so nauseous I threw up. I remembered mom telling me how she got morning sick when she was first pregnant with me. It flashed through my mind that I could be pregnant. Surprisingly, the idea made me smile. Of course, I couldn’t be. So I took one of my new pills, and felt better in a few minutes.

The bell hadn’t rung by the time I opened the door to leave. I thought maybe I could get breakfast early and so avoid Sue. It was not to be. She was in the hall leaning against the wall opposite my door.

“You've been avoiding me!”

“Yes, I have. I'm just too embarrassed to talk to you.”

“I don't care, we need to talk. It's early, we can take a walk before breakfast,” she said, grabbing my hand. I did not realize how strong she was – or how weak I was. Either way, I couldn't get my hand free, so I stumbled after her. The quad was almost empty, so we had privacy as soon as we got outside.

“You told her, didn’t you?”

“Huh?”

“You told Judy what happened?”

“Yeah, but I kept your secret, like I promised.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just told her you found out I was a boy and wanted to see me nude. I didn’t tell her how you found out, or that you like girls.”

“Oh,” she said like the air got let out of her. She thought for a while before saying “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome – but that’s not all is it? I mean you were trying to talk to me all day before I talked to Judy.”

“Yeah, I was.” She blushed. “I wanted to say … to say I didn’t like it. … touching it … I mean your … ah … part. I think I don’t really like boys. I know I don’t.”

“Really? It’s not like I forced you. It’s more like you forced me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m really ashamed of myself. No one should force a girl or woman – even if she is a boy. I’ll turn myself in and quit Braintree if you like.”

“You don’t need to do that, we’re all learning. I don’t think you’ll do it again.”

“I won’t,” she said quietly. “Is Judy going to tell everyone what a slut I am?”

“You’re not a slut, just curious like we all are – and no, Judy’s not like that. She won’t tell anyone.”

Sue started crying, then sobbing. I held her to me. When she regained her composure, I said “Let’s have some breakfast.” We both walked with a lighter step.