The Bliss

 
Chapter 1
“Cry Baby”

We get to know the youngest offspring of the all-yogi family – Ananda, Andy for friends and family. In this chapter he tried out for the track and field team but ended up as a cheerleader flyer. And he was happy about it, at least to the end of the summer.

This story is in three parts, it's completed and chapters will be posted once a week.
My thanks to Amanda Lynn for proofreading and helpful suggestions.
This is a work of adult fiction so that's a caution that covers everything. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.

 

I was about to graduate from Mahoney Middle school, only ten days were left. Next was High school and that was South Portland High. My older brother, by two years, Rami was already attending the same school.

Some athletic teams of South Portland High were about to practice during summer. Tryouts for those teams were arranged before the summer break.

My friend Al and I took a bus to our new school after classes. It was only four bus stops. Al wanted to get onto the football team, basketball team or both. He liked everything ball related. He constantly tried to engage me in his interest in ball games too. No such luck. After four years I still didn’t understand the rules of them. I was more into gymnastics and yoga. By the way, my parents and my bro were yogis. Mom and Dad both had their studios in Downtown Portland. I was named Ananda like a real yogi, which means bliss. We kept our hair long in a tight bun on head’s top what was a part of being real yogi too, something like in a story about Samson.

I wanted gymnastics because I was probably the best gymnast at my old school. My bro Rami had said there was gymnastics team in South Portland High too. The boys’ coach said that “No money” thing worked and they didn’t have a gymnastics team anymore. In my school, I was a good runner also, so I tried for track and field. My running time wasn’t good for the coach’s satisfaction, despite my friend Al's cheering me on. Then the coach offered cheerleading.

“Isn’t that for girls?” I complained. The coach wasn’t the first one to mistake me for a girl. I didn’t want them to feel embarrassed so I usually didn’t correct them. My Dad said ‘Everything is an illusion to keep our real selves in disguise.’ His illusion was male like the one on his ID.

“The squad is co-ed,” the coach said. “There are three senior boys here and they are jocks like your friend,” he added indicating Al.

I liked watching cheerleaders when I was at plays with my bro Rami or my friend Al. Especially I liked stunts and I knew names of them. The dancing squad was interesting to watch too but not so fascinating as pyramids. So I tried and passed together with the other four boys and two girls. I was given a slip for my parents to sign. The coach said to come back tomorrow so I could be measured for my uniform. The coach said I’d be a flyer while the girls Lucille and Sheila were assigned as support. Both girls were tall at almost half a foot over me and Lucille was stocky. The boys were too big for flyers but they were good for pyramids. I thought they had come for a try out because of some bet or dare. They simply didn’t seem serious about this entire cheerleading thing.

Al was about to try out for football. For some unknown reason, football tryouts were canceled. The coach said they will call boys when all three coaches and the team captain will be ready. So Al wasn’t still sure if he would make a team or not.

 

 

I gave the slip for my dad to sign the same day. Our parents signed everything without reading it. It was part of being in a yogi’s family.

“Isn’t it too early for a report card?” Dad asked.

“It’s permission to join the cheerleader squad,” I replied.

“Are you going as a girl?”

“DAAAAD!!!”

“You’d look cute with pompons in that skimpy dress,” he said with a smirk.

“DAAAAD!!!”

“Their uniform is a tee shirt and shorts,” Rami explained, “and the squad is co-ed. Their spotters… I look like ballerina beside them.”

“I’ll be the stunt’s flyer and not the dancer,” I added.

“The flyer’s the one that on the top?” Dad asked. Rami and I nodded in agreement.

“And you’ll be the one tossed, thrown and caught?” We nodded again. “What about the dangling bits?”

“DAAAAD!!!”

“This time I’m serious Andy,” Dad complained. “Those bits could be damaged seriously if not positioned properly.”

“Uh… I have that garment I’d used for Mom’s classes.” That was the thingy that kept my willy tight between my legs while jewels were somehow kept inside me.

“The gaff?”

“Uh-huh.”

I was using the gaff for Mom’s classes such as dancing and deportment. I was Mom’s exemplary student to show others how one or another thing has to be performed properly. Mom’s students were only girls. Don’t ask me why I don’t know. Mom's classes were good both for girls and boys and eventually for adults too. Anyway, only girls were attending. Mom thought my visible bulge would be a distraction for girls so I was wearing the gaff to hide it.

 

 

The next day, after my classes were over, I went to my new school. The coach Ms. Nors measured Lucille, Sheila and I in her office and said she had uniforms in our sizes. After we changed I was confused a little. Lucille and Sheila’s shorts were really long, almost to their knees, and their tees were loose. My shorts were short shorts, and my tee was tightly clinging to my chest. I had to tug it constantly down to cover my midriff.

“Isn’t this a bit too girly for me to wear while Lucille and Sheila get the really loose uniforms?” I pointed this out to the coach.

“It’s because you are the special one – the flyer. There are only two other girls that are flyers, like you,” Ms. Nors said. “Cheerleading is teamwork, but flyers are on display. You’ll be on top while Sheila and Lucille and the other two girls will support you.”

“Don’t boys fit better for support?” I thought to be in the same stunt with boys was more appropriate for me.

“We have only two for support and one for the back spot for all stunts,” the coach replied. Apparently, Terry and Chris were supporting other flyers. Sean was what Ms. Nors called the back spot. He was standing behind all pyramids. His task was to supervise everyone and to jump to help in case of an emergency. He was calling each stunt too.

My weight was at least ten pounds less than of any other flyer so maybe it was reasonable for girls to lift me. Another two girls that were assigned to the new stunt were Cathy and Sue. Sue was the one who was holding me. She was the main base. Sheila was at her side and was helping me to climb up while Lucille was pushing me from behind. Cathy was standing in front of the pyramid and she was ready to catch me if I was about to fall to the front. When I was already on the top Cathy was supporting Sue’s wrist helping to keep me well balanced.

Dad was oh so right. I was grabbed so many times at my groin that without gaff my boys’ bits would be already torn off. The whole day was spent practicing lifting to prep-height, that’s my foot at the level of Sue’s chin. It may seem very simple from aside, but I was exhausted two hours later of constant climbing up and jumping down. When Ms. Nors announced the end of today’s practice Chris said to me “Let’s show the class rookie!” He pushed me up like I was a feather. When I was already on the prep level, on his palms, he simply tossed me up and raised his hands so I was on the extended level.

“On the right! Ready, one, two,” commanded Sean. I put all my weight on the right foot. Terry now was at Chris’s side and was holding my heel.

“Scorpion,” commanded Sean, “ready, one, two, three, four…”

As Sean was counting I raised my left leg to the back bending it at the knee and grabbing my foot with my left hand. Then I started to lift my left foot up till it was above my head.

“Needle! Ready, five, six,” was the next command. I straightened my left leg raising my foot even higher holding it with both hands now.

“Basket toss! Ready, one two,” at least it was the command to take me down. Girls were clapping and cheering.

“Outstanding!” Ms. Nors exclaimed, “But no more stunts without my permission. Understood?”

“Sorry Ms. Nors,” Sean apologized as other boys nodded their heads in agreement, “but it was worth to see it. I personally expected it to be over at the extended level.”

“Thank you, everyone, guys,” Ms. Nors said, “the practice is over. Till the next time.”

“Bye, bye,” boys said and waived their hands to us, “you two other rookies want to go with us to weight room?”

Girls were exhausted. They probably were afraid to go to that sanctuary of masculinity – weight room. Anyway, I didn’t wait for them and ran quickly to change.

My suspicion was right. Those other four boys didn’t show up. I was alone to shower and change back into street clothes. A minor problem was my loosened bun that wasn’t tight enough to stay through all jumps and tosses. I fixed my hair into a low ponytail and put the loose end under my shirt.

 

 

After the practice, I went to Al’s home. The term was coming to the end at our old school so neither I nor Al had anything to do. We usually were strolling in the nearby Hinckley Park, or we were staying at his place. There was no TV at my home. Actually, there was a display but it wasn’t connected or something. Al couldn’t stay at a home where was no working TV. We were friends since fifth grade when our parents moved to new homes. There were no more kids our age so we spent a lot of time together and became inseparable. I had an older bro Rami and Al had an older sis Terry. Terry was beautiful. She was eighteen, now, and she had conceived two years ago while a junior. Yeah… she was really gorgeous. So, Al was the uncle of a cute niece, Cassie.

I found Al with Cassie when I got to his home.

“Oh, it’s good you’ve come, my coach called, tryouts will start in twenty minutes.” Al gushed in excitement omitting politeness.

“Fine! I’ll come with you for support,” his excitement was really contagious.

“You can’t!”

“Why not?”

“You have to stay with Cassie. We can’t both go and leave her alone.”

“What about Terry?” I asked.

“She’s in the library and I’m babysitting Cassie for her. She’ll come home as soon as she can” Al explained.

“But…”

“I’m sure you’ll be ok,” Al exclaimed. “Hey, I really need to get to those tryouts. Do this for me, please…”

Those were not puppy dog eyes but I knew how important football was for Al. “Well then…”

“Thanks, Andy. I owe you big.”

And he went or rather ran out.

I was alone at Al's home… Sorry, I wasn't alone. I was with Cassie. First, it was intuition and then other senses joined that something was wrong with Cassie. Great, I’d never seen Terry change her even once and I’d only seen diaper ads while watching TV with Al. That wasn’t bad, that wasn’t good either. It’s probably a great pleasure to pee into a freshly changed diaper. I could tell that Cassie was peeing immediately after I’d changed her so I had to change her again.

I expected Cassie to be asleep until Terry got back, no such luck. Pacifier didn’t help. She probably wanted to eat, but I didn’t know how and what to feed her. I’d looked in the fridge but there was nothing that I could assume as food for a baby.

The only thing that helped was to carry her in my arms. She was sleepy but not asleep. I was tired shortly so I sat on the couch and immediately Cassie was awake. I started to rock her in my arms. Then I thought that maybe some lullaby would be good, but I didn’t know any. I knew some mantras though. I’d started with simple Om. After few Om’s I added Shanti mantra. I guess Cassie liked it.

I didn’t notice when Al’s mom came in. I was startled when she tapped on my shoulder but I managed not to shriek and continued humming. Terry and Al came home almost at the same time. Al’s mom fed Cassie from the bottle that was kept in another fridge that I didn’t know about.

 

 

We had another two weeks of daily practices before we left for summer vacation. That was the usual stunt drill: up, lib, down, again and again. Sometimes when in ‘Liberty’ (lib) position, we had to switch legs. Ms. Nors told us what we had to practice at home during summer break. The older girls had confirmed my suspicion that it’s no less than two hours every day. Most things were common for all, such as stretches, tumbling, splits, and jumps. Bases and spotters had to perform some weight lifting exercises. Flyers got to practice positions starting with the simplest lib and ending with a needle.

When I got home from my last practice Dad told me that the first yoga camp was starting the day after tomorrow. Well, that wasn’t unexpected. Yoga camps were both Mom’s and Dad’s business. They were getting in touch with their regular clients and sure there were some new people too. Mom was teaching dances, deportment, yoga, and vegetarian cooking too. Dad had his dojo in the downtown and he was teaching yoga and Kalari, that’s kind of like Karate. Rami and I also usually were acting like examples of how to do asanas and exercises right. The downside of staying at yoga camp was there was no Wi-Fi or even mobile phone coverage where we were going. Well… I’ll have more time for my workouts and my reading plan.

 

 

Miranda, call me Randy, refused to believe I was a boy. Neither Dad and Mom nor Rami were helping here. Dad as always was about the illusion thing while Mom was happy I had a friend at least. Rami was bored at the camp and he had nothing to read. Randy with me practicing stunts was his only attraction. The only thing on me that could be mistaken for the girly garment was my teal shorts, not pink or some other girly color. They were short shorts the same as shorts of my uniform. After wearing regular trunks all summer my legs would look like in boots with a tan line around my knees.

“Andy, you are big enough to start wearing a bra,” Randy was saying.

“I don’t need a bra,” I replied. “And I’m not a girl.”

“You pout like a girl,” Randy was persistent. “And besides boys at thirteen already have acne while your face is as smooth as a baby's butt.”

“It’s cause I take pills.”

“What pills? Birth control?”

“Eeew… Noooo… I’m not a girl, I can’t get pregnant.”

“Don’t be so sure. Every girl might fall in love in a heartbeat and then they are at risk whether they planned to get pregnant or not.”

“Randy, I’m not the girl…”

“So tell me what pills you take,” she asked.

“My Mom has a yoga wares store selling things from India and South East Asia. I found some pills in the store that stop acne and has other benefits. I started taking it when Rami started getting pimples more than a year ago. This is why my skin is smooth,” I explained then added “I didn’t steal it. I put money from my allowance in the cash register.”

“Are they some hormones?” Randy asked.

“They are not, I know what hormones are. Mom has some too like progesterone crème from soy and other pills too.”

“So what’s the name?”

“I don’t know. On the bottle, there are only some glyphs. In Mom’s books, there is a name, a double one and I don’t know how to spell it. I guess it has to sound kinda ‘pure miracle’ or something.”

“Oh… I’ll ask my Mom, she has to know,” Randy said. “By the way, I know a bunch of girls who started puberty while cheerleading. Every one of them will confirm - start wearing a bra as young as possible. You’ll be accustomed to it and you’ll not be constricted by it later.”

“I’m not…” it was turning insane. I saw Rami approaching us. “Rami, tell her I’m not a girl, please.”

“Okay… She’s not a girl,” he said.

“RAAMIII…”

 

 

Randy, besides pushing me into girlhood, was teaching me some tricks of cheerleading.

“Do you know your sneakers are at the supporters’ face level,” she said, “and how do you think your sneakers smell?”

“Eeew… They stink…”

“Before the practice put sanitary pads into each shoe to catch your sweat and lock it. After the practice, you take them off and put a couple of tea bags in each. Tea quality doesn’t matter. That’s not all.”

“What else?” At this point, I was really curious. I knew about tea bags from Mom and Randy simply confirmed what I knew beforehand.

“When at home you change tea bags with fresh ones,” she continued. “You’ll need a small sachet for each of your shoes. In each sachet, put a spoonful of ground coffee and tie it. Put one sachet in every shoe. Coffee works longer than one day, almost a month. You’ll see or rather smell.”

This trick was really good. I was using tea bags and they really are better than nothing. But shoes stink anyway after the practice. So I guess they don’t smell roses during practice either when in front of Sue’s face. I tried to put the sanitary pad into my shoes and this trick alone worked exceptionally well. I took a note of it for further use in the future.

“You are still flat chested” Randy started her girl thing again. That was annoying and I told her.

“Randy, it’s not fun anymore. I’m a boy. Please…”

“You are not the first tomboy I’ve met. I bet you’ll be very proud of every inch you sprout on your chest when it really happens.”

“It will not! Never! N-E-V-E-R!”

“I’ll say it anyway. Maybe it will be interesting for your GIRLfriend,” Randy said with a mischievous grin on her face. “When the time comes, you’ll see, sports bras are really tight. They will make your chest flat, especially when there is not much to show.”

“So why do I need it now? I mean I’m flat already and if ever there were something to put in the bra, the one you want to put me in will make me flat anyway.”

“A. The bra is a statement you’re a girl.”

“Then I really don’t need it.”

“Without a bra, you could be mistaken for a boy especially in a poor light.”

“And in NOT a poor light what?”

“In not poor light you are the girl without a bra,” she said.

“Oh no! Please, not this again. I swear I’ll be good girl… sorry, boy…” It made her giggle and then I joined her too.

“Back to the trick,” Randy continued after our giggles subsided. “Put on a non-wired pushup padded bra under the sports bra. Your breasts will be noticed more and not just by the boys!”

“Are you into girls?” I was confused after her ‘not just by boys’ statement.

“I’m not, silly you,” she replied, “I was about talent scouts. You may get a scholarship to some colleges for cheerleading.”

“Oh! I didn’t know that.”

“The gist of the trick is to make that under bra invisible. So you’ll need to stitch snap buttons to the inside of sport bra straps and outside of under bra strap. Look.”

She flipped her sports bra’s strap up. There really was that snapping button keeping both straps together.

“Oh…” I managed to say.

“Do you think my breasts are so big?”

“Are they not?”

“They really are. Maybe not SO big but anyway.”

“Then I don’t understand why you need a sports bra that squashes your tits and then another one to make them look bigger.”

“It’s because a good sports bra prevents breasts from jiggling. Wait till your own will be the size of a walnut. With every jump and tumble and toss they will jiggle each in its own direction.”

 

 

I stopped complaining about all this girl stuff. I thought of ignoring it I’ll make it die. And I guess it worked while the next trick Randy told me was about antiperspirant. She used Old Spice. Yes. The same Old Spice for men. She said no girly antiperspirant works like this one.

Then a couple of days later before breakfast Mom handed me some piece of cloth.

“Tiff asked to give this for you to wear during stunt practice,” Tiffany was Randy’s Mom. The thing was a sports bra like one Randy was wearing.

“MOOOM! I don’t need this. It’s a bra.”

“Tiff said without it you look indecent and so demoralize youngsters here.”

“I AM a boy, I can’t wear it,” I whined. “At this camp session, there’re only three youngsters: Randy, Rami and me.”

“Yeah, put this bra on and it will definitely improve my morale,” Rami teased.

“RAAMIII…”

“Not the clothes make a man,” Rami chuckled.

Now I was wearing a sports bra instead of my tee because it was too hot to wear both. I thought to change back at the turn of sessions but Randy and her Mom were here for all eight weeks. I ended up getting tan lines. No, no, I got no tan lines on my legs but on my chest and back. It was obvious I’d spent summer in a bra. What will I do when changing with other boys around in the school locker-room?

 

 

If there was a boy such as Chris, I would be able to really practice stunts and sequences not just poses on the floor. Those were static and since they required skills the practice was boring.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Randy asked.

“Nooo… and I am not a girl,” I whined, “he’s a base and he can lift and toss me alone by himself.”

“You better practice poses on the ground. For tosses, you need more than one spot or a trampoline.”

“It’s sooo boooring…”

“It’s because you do it all wrong.”

“What do you mean by ‘wrong’?” she made me really curious.

“You stand on the ground so you don’t work with your balance.”

“You mean like balance beam?” I remembered the balance beam from my gymnastics back in junior high. I didn’t practice on it though because it was for girls only.

“Yeah, something like that or it may be a bench or a log.”

Well, we found a log that was five feet long and Dad, with other men, rolled it to our place.

“There is more,” Randy said. “Try to do poses like in yoga.”

“You mean to get into the pose and stay there for several minutes?”

“Yes, but don’t worry about the time. Try to do it without tension. Get into a scorpion and relax.”

I tried it and it was really good. Performing stunts the tempo is very important. For every pose, the flyer has less than a second so there is no time to relax. Randy and I were mirroring each other on the opposite ends of the log. Now the practice was interesting again. For me, it was now more interesting than yoga itself.

“There is a pose ‘Cry baby’. Every girl who isn’t a yogi will cry trying to perform it. And not just the first time,” Randy’s Mom said. “I was crying too because I wasn’t yogi when I was a cheerleader.”

She stood in front of us in Liberty pose on her right foot. She started turning her torso to the right and to lift the bent at the knee left leg backward up. Her hands didn’t move and stayed in Lib. Now her torso was turned to the right and bent to compensate the rising of the left leg which was still bent at the knee. At the same time, the face wasn’t turned and she was facing us. The pose was completed with left toes under her chin.

“It’s called ‘Chin-chin’ too sometimes,” Randy’s Mom said still in the same pose.

Randy and I needed two weeks to learn chin-chin and to perform it flawlessly.

 

 

We had another two weeks until the school started and a week before the first practice. It was a good time for back-to-school shopping. Rami had gained another two inches and twenty-two pounds so he needed an all-new wardrobe. I… I didn’t change. Nothing. Ah well, not exactly nothing – half an inch and six pounds. I’m very careful with my clothes so there was no need to buy anything. In other words, I would go to high school like someone from junior high. I had to wear the same tees and the same jeans three years in the row. I’m not a shopping person but again some new tees would be nice. Instead of the mall, my shopping trip was limited to the grocery store.

The first thing on my list was the ground coffee. We had none at home because neither black tea nor coffee was a hot drink for real yogis. Mom used black tea in bags for sports shoes so I needed only coffee. Next, I had decided to buy plain cotton socks for kids instead of making sachets for coffee myself. At last, I needed sanitary pads. Good, I’d remembered what pack Randy had used because there was a myriad of choices.

“Isn’t your Mom buying you all those things?” Suddenly a sales lady asked from behind me what made me yelp in surprise.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said.

“Er… I guess I’m big enough to buy myself what I need.” I replied.

“Haven’t considered tampons instead?”

“Er… No… Those are for my practice… cheerleading, I mean… and I… er… I’ve used them and they were OK.”

“Oh, I wish my girls were as independent as you,” another lady said who was shopping in the same section.

“For practice try those,” the sales lady showed me a similar colored pack. “They are with the wings and thus they stay in place when you move.”

“Oh, thanks, I guess…” I replied though I wasn’t sure how I will use those wings with the pad in my shoe. Sometimes I was taking insoles out from the shoes and washing them. That's especially after really intense practice. So maybe it was a good idea to fasten the pad on the insole folding the wings over.

“Need something else sweetie?” the saleslady asked.

“Some underwear I guess…”

“Something fancy?”

“Oh no. Just plain white cotton.”

“You are…” she stepped back from me and squinted at me, “… twelve. Yes, twelve.”

“I’m thirteen,” I protested.

“Your size is twelve.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I guessed my reaction was very childish.

“Week pack or dozen?” she asked.

“Er… Oh…”

“Dozen is a much better deal.”

“Er… OK, I guess,” I managed to say. She handed me a pack of twelve and I put it into my cart.

“Tops?”

“No, thank you. That’s everything I needed. Thank you for your help.”

“That’s my job,” sales lady replied with a grin.

I was already cycling with all purchases in my backpack when a car honked passing me. The same lady who praised me back in the store waved and smiled at me.

At home, I found that my newly purchased whitey-tighties had no Y-front. I wasn’t using it anyway so it wasn’t such a problem.

 

 

As my Dad used to say “Every red-blooded testosterone-loaded teenager tends to show-off.” Like me. At the very first practice, the very first thing I’d shown was Chin-chin.

“Oh, you don’t use your hands,” Ms. Nors wondered. “Will you do it with pom-poms?”

We don’t do stunts with pom-poms. We need hands for balance and we use hands to help stretch legs into various stunts too. Dance squad is using pom-poms. Ms. Nors handed me one white and another orange pom-poms. That's because our school colors are white and orange and black.

I did it again this time with pom-poms and Ms. Nors took a picture of me with her smart-phone. Actually, we did nothing this time at the practice while we chatted about what we did during summer. Ms. Nors reminded us that Lucille, Sheila and I were still not registered at the school office. We needed to do this ASAP.

We went into the office to register and get to know what classes we were assigned to. Apparently, I had to see a doctor to be examined before I could be registered, and only then come back. I wasn’t the only one who was visiting the doctor before school so I was squeezed into the tight schedule the same day.

In the doctor’s office, I was embarrassed by those clear tan-lines from wearing a bra. Neither nurse nor doctor said anything about it. The nurse looked something familiar to me but I couldn’t recall where I’d met her. She measured me then checked my heart and lungs and blood pressure. I’d tried to say I wasn’t growing and Doc said I was developed enough for my age and that everything will come in its own time. What will come she didn’t explain, most probably height and weight I guess. They didn’t give me any form or slip and said they’ll send all info to the school directly via the internet. When my examination was over, I did remember that the nurse was that woman that praised me in the grocery store.

So it was another day and I was in the school office again. A lady behind the desk was handing us schedules along with some forms for our parents to sign. With all papers in my hands, I was at least a real high school student.

 

 

Now that both Al and I were back at home after the summer break we were together again. It didn’t take us long to tell each other what we did during the summer, not that there was much to tell. Al wasn’t a yoga fan and as far as cheerleading was concerned, he was just interested in the hot girls. I wasn’t interested in football. For me, one football player in the family, Rami was more than enough.

Al and I were watching TV in the sitting room while Al’s sis Terry with her friend Erica was chatting in the same room.

“Can you ask Al’s girlfriend to babysit Doris tonight?” I overheard Erica’s question. Wow! Al got a girlfriend during summer break and I, his best friend, am the last to know it.

“Who’s she?” I nudged Al.

“Who is what?” Al pretended he didn’t understand.

“Don’t feign! Erica’s just said you’ve got a girlfriend. C’mon, I’m your best friend, you can trust me, who’s she?”

“I don’t know what you're talking about. Ask Erica yourself, she’s out of her mind.” That wasn’t the answer I was expecting from Al. I was always honest with him and always thought, till now, he’s been honest with me.

“Andy, honey,” Terry asked, “would you come here please?”

“Sure,” I said. “What’s up?”

“Erica needs someone to babysit her daughter today, Would you be so kind as to do it for her?”

I couldn’t say ‘No’ to Terry, could I? If she was personally asking me something, how could I turn her down?? But I hadn’t babysat before. The only time was when I couldn’t leave Terry’s baby unattended. I mean, I had to change a diaper twice, but I wasn’t sure boys were suited for babysitting. Al’s girlfriend had probably turned them down and I was the only other person Terry and Erica could think of.

“Only if you call my dad and tell him I’m not fooling around,” I replied.

“No problem, honey.”

“Let’s go then,” Erica urged me on. “I’ll bring you home afterward”.

 

 

Doris wasn’t Erica’s only child, there was her six-year-old brother, Bill too. Not such a big deal. I’d changed two diapers in the row (Cassie did exactly the same). Later I fed Doris from a bottle, she burped and then I carried her for an hour until she was asleep. Bill was fed also. I read a story once he was in bed. I’d found ‘The ugly duckling’ in the sitting room.

After I was done with the kids, I read ‘The little prince’ I’d taken it from the school library. I didn’t turn the TV on because Doris wasn’t sound asleep. I sat right next to her crib. The book wasn’t too interesting and my mind was coming back to Al’s girlfriend again and again. It’s not about gossip or anything, it was more about trust. Why did he have to hide this from me? Was he ashamed of me, did he think I’d say something bad? Nonsense! I couldn’t do anything to Al, I wouldn’t ever betray him.

So why distrust me then? While thinking about it over and over, I was getting tearful. Shortly tears started running down my face. That was exactly the moment Erica came home. Maybe I sniffled too loud or maybe some tears I hadn’t brushed away but Erica knew I was crying.

“What happened honey?” she asked with concern.

“That’s… sob… about Al’s… sob… new girlfriend… sob…” I couldn’t understand what was happening to me. Why couldn’t I stop crying?

“I know sweetie, some boys are boorish,” she soothed me.

After I used the bathroom and washed tears from my face we talked a little about her kids. I asked if it was OK to read ugly duckling. I knew from somewhere that some kids were too sensitive for that kind of stories. But this was the only book I had found in the sitting room.

“Oh, Bill already six months ago said he was too big for good-night stories,” Erica said with a grin.

“I didn’t push him,” I said. “I asked if ugly duckling was OK and he nodded his head ‘yes’.”

“And Doris?”

“In the beginning she was quiet and then she gradually became restless. Maybe she’s teething,” I considered.

“It’s about time,” Erica said. “How do you know? About teething I mean.”

“She’s chewing her pacifier instead of sucking it,” I replied. “She tries to push it deeper into her mouth also.”

We chatted a little more and then Erica’s husband Malcolm came home and he drove me to my house. When I was about to exit the car he offered me money for the evening but I refused because it was a help and not a job.

 

 

“I didn’t know you were a babysitter,” Dad said when I came home.

“Am I?” I wondered too.

“Al’s sister called and said you were babysitting her colleague’s baby daughter and that it wasn’t your first time. So I considered it as babysitting.”

“That first time I was kinda in no position to say no, actually. Al’s sis was in the library and Al was supposed to watch the baby while she went out. Then Al got the call from school that delayed tryouts for the football team were planned the same day. There was no one else to stay with Cassie, so I did it. For Al football is the same as it is for Rami. You know how he is about that game,” I explained putting the accent on ‘game’.

“And today?”

“Today Terry’s friend Erica asked if maybe Al’s girlfriend could stay with her baby daughter…”

“Oh, Al’s got a girlfriend?” Dad interrupted me.

“Apparently yes…”

“Who is she? Maybe I know her parents.”

“He didn’t say who. He pretends there isn’t any, I mean I’m his best friend and he won’t even tell me?”

“Hm-m… Maybe the girl doesn’t want the news to spread. Sometimes girls have their own logic.”

“Oh… I didn’t think about it,” I admitted, “you’re maybe right.”

Maybe really Al wasn’t holding out on me, maybe there was some simple explanation.

“Your coach has called too,” Dad interrupted me. “She asked if I wouldn’t object taking pictures of you during practice and using them for the district’s leaflet. She said the legal term is publication.”

“So?”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “If you agree I mean.”

“Ah… Oh… Why wouldn’t I? I mean, sure, I agree,” it was so out of the blue.

“If you agree, she said for you to prepare for some kind of photo session tomorrow.”

“She didn’t say what she meant for ‘prepare’?”

“No, she didn’t,” Dad replied, “and I’m just as confused as you. Maybe it’s about some girly things, you know, most cheerleaders are girls.”

“Maybe Mom will know? When will she be home?”

“Late, very late, or rather very early, sometime about five-ish, I guess. She has a Yoga Nidra practice tonight. She’ll be exhausted in the morning. Maybe there is nothing very special in this ‘prepare’ thing?”

Maybe Dad was right. Usually, he was.

 

 

In the morning I put on my cheerleading uniform at home. I couldn’t think of anything more to be ‘prepared’ for practice. Rami had football practice at the same time so he drove me to school in his new car. Did I say he got a new car? No? Someone had got everything: growing spurt, muscle mass and now a new car. OK, it’s a used car but new for him.

At school, there were two ladies with Ms. Nors. One of them was a photographer, who was carrying a camera with her everywhere. Another one, Beatrice, told me to turn around and examined how I looked. Ms. Nors said I was to do everything Beatrice ‘call me Trish' told me. Trish took me to the coach's office and sat me on a chair.

“Untie your hair, sweetie,” she said. “Your hair is fantastic! Why do you keep it in a bun?”

“Otherwise I look too girly and…”

“Girly? Yeah… What do you use to condition it? It’s so full and lustrous.” Trish asked while she was brushing my hair.

“Oil mix,” I replied.

“What mix, if it’s not a secret?”

“I don’t know,” I really didn’t know. “My Mom has a yoga wares store and she takes it from there.”

“Well… And what shampoo do you use to wash it?”

“None. We use scalded rye bread.”

“And by ‘we’ you mean…”

“Mom, Dad, my bro and I.”

“I see…” Trish continued to brush my hair. I guess she wasn’t so much interested in my hair. Probably she was just chatty.

She parted my hair at the top of my head, then in the left part, she braided an orange ribbon and into the right a white one.

“I will look girly in it,” I complained.

“Nothing girly,” Trish said, “just a way to put more of the school colors on you.”

Then she dabbed a sponge with something wet over my face.

“Are you painting me?” I was confused.

“Er… am-m-m… not…” and then she took a large brush like one in old movies men used to put foam for shaving just with a longer handle. “I… m-m-m… I put foundation on you. And it’s not girly. The camera sees differently from the human eye. I need to soften highlight and shadow contrast on your face.”

Then she took a very sharp looking pencil and moved it to my left eye that made me flinch.

“Didn’t you use make-up before?” Trish asked.

“I did not.” I said and at the same time guessed I wasn’t polite so I added: “I’m not in drama, I know those on the stage use a lot of make-up.”

“Yes, they use a lot. And their make-up is different from one I’m applying to you. Now close your eyes and be still.”

I felt like she painted somewhere around my eyes with that sharp pencil. Later she said to open my eyes and did something to my lashes with a round brush.

“Well, you’re ready now. Let’s show you to your coach,” Trish said and we went outside.

“Oh, TOM boy made pretty,” camera lady said with an accent on ‘Tom’.

“My name is Andy,” I corrected her.

“Sure,” she said glancing at me funny.

I was given the pom-poms. Terry and Sean stood in front of each other while Chris climbed on their hands and they raised him to a prep level. Chris bent down and grabbed my right hand and helped me to climb up. He pushed me up till I was standing on his palms and raised me up to his extended level. I lifted all my weight on the right foot and now Chris was holding it with both of his hands. I raised my hands with pom-poms up and folded left leg into Chin-chin.

I noticed a forklift nearing to our pyramid. On its fork was a platform with a camera lady. Her face was behind the camera but I heard her commands: “Look at me and grin as it’s fulfilling of your dream.” I stared into the lens and was grinning like mad.

 

 

The session was over. The forklift lowered its fork with the platform. Chris helped me jump down and then jumped down himself. The boys high-fived themselves and then high-fived me too. To be accepted into their circle was really encouraging.

I’d noticed both ladies putting their gear away and I hurried to them.

“Trish, would you take that paint off my face, please. I know from drama class soap isn’t enough here.”

“You really don’t like yourself pretty?” she asked.

“Ewww, I look like a girl.”

“Ah, really… OK then.” She took cotton pads and poured some thick white liquid on them and cleaned my face with it. It came off as a brown and black smear. Trish repeated it a few times until the cotton wasn’t dirty. Then she unbraided ribbons and helped me to put my hair into the bun again.

The Bliss

 

Chapter 2
“Definitely not your color”

Being an outstanding cheerleader isn't enough. Others expect more than this. Andy gets to know that being right isn’t always right.

 

This story is in three parts, it's completed and chapters will be posted once a week.
My thanks to Amanda Lynn for proofreading and helpful suggestions.
This is a work of adult fiction so that's a caution that covers everything. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.

 

It was the first day at school. I expected more or rather I expected something different than it actually was. Back at my old school if someone was towering over others it was a teacher. Here almost everyone was taller than me. I felt like a kid with adults all around me. Older boys were looking at me like wolves at meat and I’d wondered if they’re gay or what.

I’d met some guys from my old school. Al and I only had one class together, and that was Spanish. Lucille and Sheila from the squad were with me in my all classes. Naturally, I was hanging out with them most of the time. When lunch time came, I’d found that Al was with his buddies and he wasn’t encouraging me to join him at their table.

I joined Lucille, Sheila and the other cheerleaders at their table. I’d half expected to be shunned away but that didn’t happen. Three of us were ninth graders while all others were older. During practices, we didn’t interact too much. All time was used to practice and afterward, we all were too exhausted to chat. We chatted about first impressions and the girls cautioned us about some teachers. The math teacher didn’t like cheerleaders and it was freaking me out because math was my thing. Later girls started to talk about babysitting. Some of them were complaining about lullabies. Not that they didn’t like them rather they didn’t know what to sing to soothe the baby.

“For me, a mantra of Peace worked well,” I said referring to my last babysitting experience.

“What’s that?” few girls asked in unison.

“It’s Peace, Shanti,” I replied and the girls stared at me as if I was talking in a foreign language. “Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om.”

“And?”

“That’s all. Add melody you like and sing it. Shanti is about peace and tranquility and it will calm. Or maybe just ‘sh-sh-sh’ and ‘m-m-m-m-m’ sounds are soothing too.”

“Are you yogi or what?” one girl who looked familiar asked.

“Both.”

“What?”

“I’m both a yogi and what.” Some girls giggled at my reply.

“Oh, I remember you from deportment classes two years ago,” and I remembered why she looked familiar.

“Becky?”

“What classes?” Lucille asked.

“Two years ago, when I was a ninth grader like you, the drama teacher recommended us to take deportment classes. That was mostly about posture and gracefulness. Other girls ignored that suggestion and I was the only one who took those classes. I got a lead role afterward.”

“And Andy?”

“The teacher is Andy’s Mom,” Becky said.

Lucille was about to ask something else but the bell rang and we all rushed to our next classes. In my case, it was Home Economics. Dad signed me to Home Ec instead of shop. “Those home repair things happen so rarely. It’s more suited to call for professional help rather than try to fix it yourself. The food you’ll prepare every day instead.” Dad was the one who made food at home and I was helping him. Mom did sometimes too but it was a complete disaster and we knew to compliment her anyway.

“Girls! Quiet!” Mrs. Santora a Home Ec teacher shouted when she entered the room. I was used to being addressed like this. Ms. Nors was addressing us as ‘Ladies’ and the boys were calling each other ‘Lady’ like ‘Lady Christopher’. It sounded quite funny and even Ms. Nors sometimes addressed us this way for fun.

Roll call was by name and I was the fourth after Abby, Amanda, and Andrea. Abby was vegetarian so there was nothing special about me being a vegetarian too. There were another two girls and we four made a veggies group. The first day was about arranging a home budget. The same theme was planned for up to Thanksgiving so it was kind of like Math, rather than food making.

The next period was a drama. Two hours were spent on introductions. With all those students around me that were bigger than me, I will never get a role for. I could expect to get a kid’s role if such was available in the play. But, not only actors were needed for drama. There is backstage staff, I could be a prompter, because of my small stature. Anyway, drama teacher didn’t reveal her plans about the future play. After introduction, there were some impromptu readings of random lines like a lottery. Actually, it was great fun.

 

 

After the school was over I had another hour until cheerleading practice. I had enough time to do all my homework. Since it was the first day of school there was not much to do. Football practice started immediately after the last period. It was arranged this way to prevent boys from both teams changing in the locker room at the same time. Senior girls said there were some fights between boys cheerleaders and football players.

I had almost thirty minutes until practice started after I completed my homework. I changed and went for stretches and then used a trampoline for kicks practice. Other boys meanwhile were in the weight room. Some girls were sitting on the bleachers watching boys at football practice.

Afterward, the practice was the same as it was the previous week. Routine was the same too: up, kick spin, toss basket, down and again the same. Everyone in our group had their own Achilles heel. My weak point was kick and twist. I knew how to improve it. I needed more practice on a trampoline. The trampoline was free before the practice so I could occupy it after I was done with my homework. After practice, it was taken by another flyer, Sarah. The third flyer, Liz had to work with stretches and splits. Girls from my group had problems with balance. That was the first impression. Later the track and field coach, who was helping Ms. Nors, indicated the problem as a muscular weakness. To me, all four of them looked so big and strong…

 

 

There was a major event coming and most students were getting ready for it. It was Homecoming. That’s play, parade, and dance. The event was most important for the seniors. Some juniors, football players, and of course the cheerleaders were involved too. We planned to show stunts. We had practiced those for months already and for the Homecoming game, we would be ready to show them off. We were only performing a tumbling, jumping, splits, and cartwheels.

First, there were preparations, fundraising and various things about school spirit. The School district had promised some posters. The posters arrived two weeks before the event. They said there were enough to sell if someone wanted too, so they were sold for ten bucks each.

On this poster, there was a cheerleader on the top of the extended pyramid. In the background there were boys playing football. That cheerleader was me. I looked like a clown: face and eyes painted, ribbons in my hair and I was grinning like mad.

Rami was selling tickets with some girl. I found him at his booth.

“Rami, would you give me ten bucks till I’ll get home,” I asked.

“What’s up? Found something fancy?” Rami teased.

“I want to buy a poster for Mom and Dad.”

“What poster?”

“The district sent some today and Alice is bringing one to hang on the wall,” the girl said.

Another girl, probably Alice, brought a rolled up poster. Rami unrolled it and was holding it against the wall. Some boys were at Rami’s booth.

“She’s hot…” one said.

“I don’t know her. Who is she?” another boy asked.

“She’s Rami’s baby sister,” the first girl said.

“I’m not…” I started to say.

“Truth to be told,” Rami interrupted me, “she says she’s not a girl.”

“RAMI, I do not…” I wanted to protest but…

“Tomboy phase, I guess…” he interrupted me again. For Rami, it was a joke, a prank. I had to live with it. There was now a bunch of students, they all thought I was a girl and there was no way I could prove otherwise. The tears were welling in my eyes. I couldn’t let myself cry or it would be more proof I was a girl or a sissy which was even worse.

“I’ll take few and put them in the car to keep safe,” Rami said after the crowd at his booth dispersed. He was right. Trying to shove the poster into the locker probably wasn’t the best idea.

 

 

The day before the Homecoming we had kind of costume rehearsal. We had no costumes and we would have no costumes the next day. But we would be on the field and all stunts would be performed in unison. Every jump and every kick was synchronous between all three pyramids.

When the practice was over, we still were here excited and talking. I was with the boys and had actually revealed the secrets of keeping shoes odorless using tea bags and ground coffee. I could tell them about sanitary pads too, but I decided not to. I’d offered it to Rami a few days before and he almost fainted when I offered him some pads for his gym bag so he could put them in his shoes.

“Attention everyone,” Ms. Nors had an announcement to make. “The school had ordered new uniforms for both girls and boys. Uniforms now are traditional skirt and tee for girls and tracksuit for boys.”

Ms. Nors turned to me and other boys: “Unfortunately ‘boys’ uniforms are late. Tomorrow, before the game, you change into your old uniforms as usual.”

“Girls! I beg your attention please,” she turned to the girls now. “Your uniforms are in the office. Take the bag with your name tag on it. You’ll come to school in your new uniform tomorrow, spotters too. You may consider putting pantyhose on since days are already getting cool. Put some simple sheer nude pantyhose on, nothing fancy. Makeup is allowed just don’t overdo it. At school, before the game, dancers captain Allison will be in charge. She’ll say where to go and what to do.”

I was glad about the new uniforms, I hated my short shorts and that tight tee so much. Well, tomorrow I may still have to wear it, but later I’ll be in a tracksuit and no one will mistake me for a girl anymore.

 

 

The next day I saw the new uniform for the first time, I saw Sheila. She’s a big girl and she looked very pretty in the new uniform. The color was black with wide orange trim and a narrow white line in between. The material was shimmering, but not like glitter shimmering, rather like silk. When Sheila moved the orange part of her skirt moved too and it looked like a flame.

“Why haven’t you changed into a new uniform?” she asked me.

“Why would I?”

“Cause you’re one of us,” Sheila said.

“Hi, Sheila. Haven’t you…” Lucille was about to ask something but she was staring at me instead. “Andy! What do you think you’re doing?”

“What?” I was flabbergasted.

“Why are you?..” she motioned at me indicating my clothes.

“Why would I?” I said again.

“Because we are a team and you’re part of it.”

“She’s hopeless,” Sheila said.

“I’m not a ‘she’,” I complained.

“You’re right, Sheila. She’s hopeless,” Lucille echoed.

“Girls, I need you…” Allison appeared from somewhere and she, like Lucille, stopped in the middle of her sentence.

“Girl! Why are you not ready yet?” she yelled and pointed at me.

“Because I’m NOT!” I snapped out angrily. I turned on my heel and headed to my first-period class. It wasn’t fun anymore.

 

 

The stunt girls were performing various cheer routines during the day together with dance squad girls. Now that both dancers and cheerleaders were wearing the same new uniform they looked stunning.

The girls were cheering and smiling except when they were scowling at me. I couldn’t understand this. How could they expect me to dress up like a girl? Some students from my classes were angry at me too. How could all these people not understand that I wasn’t a girl?

As the day was coming to a close, I’d noticed more people were ignoring me and I couldn’t understand why.

 

 

Classes were over so I headed to the stadium to change into my cheerleading uniform. I saw Chris and Sean about one hundred feet in front of me going through the stadium gate. As I approached the gate, two doormen were checking tickets of early arrivals and letting the staff in.

“Where are you heading, Miss??” one of them asked. I’d seen him before, he’s one of Rami’s friends.

“I’m a cheerleader and I need to change,” I replied.

“All cheerleaders are already changed,” he said.

“Not all. I just saw Chris and Sean enter here.”

“Those are boys.”

“I’m a boy too.”

“Who are you kidding Miss?” he snickered.

“I’m really a boy, I need to get in because I’m a flyer, I’m needed there to perform new stunts and…”

“Listen to me girly,” another doorman snarled at me, “all girls came to school in uniform and they don’t need to change. The boys have to change and all three of them are already inside. And you… Consider real long detention if you cause more trouble. Go away or I’m calling school security.”

What could I do? I didn’t have a ticket and I didn’t have a pass. I walked away. My brother was in and my best friend was in but neither could help me to get inside. Because of those two bouncers, the new stunts will not be performed as planned. Or was it because of me?

 

 

The next day was Saturday so I wasn’t going to know what happened till Monday. Rami and Al were useless. After the game there was a party, then a dance, then a sleepover. Monday wasn’t something special just a usual day. The girls didn’t speak to me. I got to know the meaning of the word ‘shunned’. I didn’t even try to sit at their table in the cafeteria during lunch too.

Classes were over and I had done my homework while waiting for the beginning of cheerleading practice. I feared there was something wrong and not just with my teammates.

“How do you feel about ruining the show?” Ms. Nors asked without a word of greeting.

“I didn't. The bouncers didn’t let me in.”

“Sure miss innocent. I instructed them not to,” she said.

“Why? Why would you…”

“Cause you weren’t ready. You were expected to wear the new uniform to school like other girls.”

“I’m not like other…”

“Sure you’re NOT,” Ms. Nors snickered, “you are a STAR! How could I forget that?”

“I’m not the star and I’m not a girl either.” I corrected her.

“Andy, I appreciate your tomboyishness. It’s your life. Be what you want to be. But here we are the squad, the team and all girls are expected to be girls during the performance. That’s a part of being a cheerleader.”

“But I’m not a girl. I AM A BOY. Just look into stupid school records,” that was becoming really insane.

“Language, young lady,” Ms. Nors interrupted me. “I looked at school records the first day you were assigned as a student here. And there is a big fat ‘F’ here. You are here as Ms. Ananda Katzel. After your tomboyish outbursts, I checked again. Then I checked to see if maybe you are transgendered. None of that! Still the same ‘F’.”

“But… But I am a boy… I was a boy my whole life,” I couldn’t believe the insanity that was happening to me.

“I know what I know,” Ms. Nors said. “As I’ve said before cheerleading is about team and integrity. And you are lacking integrity. I can’t let the squad rely on you and get another performance ruined. But, I have you assigned to me this year instead of the gym. So you’ll come here as you were before but you will do whatever you want to do and not disturb and not interrupt the others. Deal?”

That was insanity! It was happening to me…

“DEAL?” Ms. Nors demanded.

“Yes Ma’am,” I replied in a meek voice.

 

 

It was getting close to Halloween. All the students were busy making costumes and arranging parties. I was alone, nobody wanted me around.

I was walking around the stadium during lunch, I was depressed and I couldn’t eat, at school. At home, I ate because Dad was watching me. Sometimes I puked after eating. Maybe not sometimes.

I sauntered around the stadium and behind the bleachers. I noticed a kitten scampering under them. I came nearer and found that there were another three there. The bleachers were some metal and wood planks. Kittens were some twenty or so feet away under the tangle of planks and steel. Underneath, on the ground, there were puddles everywhere and the kittens had found a kind of an island. This fall was wet, the rain was starting again, the water started to rise and their mother was nowhere to be seen.

I was a pariah now, but maybe some teacher will listen to me. I headed back inside and the first teacher I met was a drama one so I approached her.

“There’re kittens under the bleachers. They are unreachable because they are twenty feet from the edge. And they are surrounded by water and now as the rain started the water is…”

“I understand,” she said, “I’ll just grab an umbrella from faculty room and you show me where they are, OK?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She rushed to the faculty room and was back in a second and we both headed to the bleachers. I showed her where the kittens were. She called 911 and was switched to local ASPCA shelter. The car from there came in less than ten minutes.

The man exited the car and he had a stick with a loop at one end. Then he got another two sticks and connected all three of them into one more than thirty feet long. He squatted down and tried to reach the kittens with a stick but they were too far away and they were moving too fast. After twenty minutes of futzing around, nothing changed. The rain was pouring now and the kittens’ island was melting away rapidly.

I wasn’t about to watch the kittens drown. The crack under the bleachers was some eight inches or less but it was still enough space for me to squeeze. The teacher understood what I was doing when I was under the bleachers. Kittens had nowhere to run so I made two passes to extract all four of them. The man put them all into a box and hurried back to the shelter.

“Come with me, I’ll sign your pass,” the teacher said.

There was no crowd, probably because of the rain. When we were back in the school building lunch was already over and students were in their classes. Just when we were inside the teacher noticed how I looked.

“Oh my…” she whispered. She rushed to the drama studio not letting me come in and was back in a minute with two fluffy towels.

“Take these and… and… and stand under hot water or you’ll catch something,” she said. “Meanwhile I’ll find something for you to change into.”

I scurried into the locker-room and took my wet clothes off. I was already shivering from the cold. There was a heater at the far end wall. I put my clothes on it for them to dry, in case the teacher finds nothing for me to change into. I grabbed a bottle of shower gel from my bag and rushed under the steaming hot water.

I usually didn’t wash my hair at school, so I had no shampoo with me. This time, however, my hair was soaked in the mud so I washed it, lathering with shower gel. Afterward, I patted myself dry and I put my hair into a turban or it would become one tight tangled knot. I heard boys in the locker-room when I was arranging the turban. I left my bag open when I hurried into the shower. The boys peered inside and noticed the pack of sanitary pads I had in it. I had one towel on my head and another wrapped around under my arms because of those stupid tan-lines that were caused by that stupid sports-bra.

“This is a boys’ locker-room,” one boy shouted when I came back from the shower.

“I’m a boy too,” I said.

“What’s this?” another boy demanded, pointing with his finger at the pack of sanitary pads.

“I use them…”

“I DON’T WANT TO KNOW what you are using them for or how you are using them just GET OUT OF HERE!”

“But…”

The next thing I knew there were boys at each my side. A moment later I was standing outside the door and my bag was dropped beside me.

What now?

I was standing here in the hall of the high school barefoot and nude wrapped in two towels. According to the clock on the wall the school halls will fill with students, in a few minutes. All will be pointing their fingers at me and making a laughing stock out of me.

 

 

I was standing there, wrapped in the towel and was now trying to rearrange it a little when there was that sound “Ahem!” that made me squeak an intelligent “Ye-e-p!” and turn to the source of the sound.

“What do you think you are doing here?” VP Mrs. Gordon asked and motioned her hands indicating the towel I was wrapped in. “And why are you dressed so fancy?”

“Boys have thrown me out…”

“From where?”

I motioned my head to boys’ locker-room because I used both hands to keep the towel in place.

“To my office. Now!” she ordered and when I tried to grab my gym bag with my left hand she intercepted me: “I’ll take that. Keep moving.”

“So what happened?” she asked when we were in her office.

I retold my story concisely.

“Who’s your drama teacher?”

“Mrs. Edith Sablotzki, ma’am.”

“OK,” she said and punched a short number on her phone. “Edith? It’s Celia. I have your student in my office… Sure… waiting.”

Then she punched her phone again. “Zoe? It’s Celia… Yes… I guess I have one of yours’ here in my office… I don’t think… Would you come here, please…? Yes… No… waiting.”

“So your clothes are hanging on the heater in the boys’ locker-room?” VP asked.

I nodded my head ‘yes’.

“Well…” she said and punched her phone again. “Mark? It’s Celia. We have a minor problem here. Would you be so dear to bring clothes hanging on the heater in the boys’ locker-room? … No, no one is in trouble… No, no… waiting.”

Strange, but boys’ coach Mark Kirkwood was the first who came into VP office.

“All your clothes are muddy and soaking wet and only your panties are dry.” He placed my clothes on the chair at my side and put my whitey tighties separately. Why did he call them panties? “I couldn’t find your bra,” he said.

“I don’t have one,” I replied.

“What?” both VP and coach asked in unison. What could I say? I just shrugged.

“Well, I leave you, alone ladies. Boys are waiting for me,” the coach said and left the room. The door was still open as Ms. Nors entered the room.

“Oh girl, you managed to get into trouble already?” she asked me. What could I say in response? Questions lately sounded like rhetoric to me and I had no answers.

“What she has done today?” Ms. Nors asked VP.

“She was thrown out of the boys’ locker-room wearing the towel and the turban. The question is, how or why she got in?”

“Oh, I do know why, maybe because she’s a boy,” Ms. Nors said in a stage whisper.

I was tired, cold, exhausted by today’s events, by starving the last couple of weeks and by this constant ‘you’re the girl’ nonsense. My body started tingling, tears were welling in my eyes and my only wish was to disappear. I guess I fainted.

 

 

I woke up in the same room lying on the couch. The red-brown plaid was draped over me. I discretely checked with my hand and found that I was already in my whitey tighties. All three ladies were sitting on chairs and all three of them were staring at me.

“I guess I owe you an apology,” Ms. Nors said.

I said nothing and shrugged.

The Drama teacher gave me a cup with something hot.

“Take it. It’s tea and it will warm you up and give you some energy,” she said.

It really was hot and very sweet. I started to sip it slowly. I felt better and warmer almost immediately.

“A minor problem becomes a big one,” Mrs. Gordon said. “Everybody in the school thinks you are a girl, even the school records state you are. I don’t know how, but officially you are a girl. If you come out from this office like a boy it will be the end, not for the school, the school is big enough and it will survive. It would be the end for you. The name calling would be the least of your problems. Sissy and fairy would be the least insulting ones…”

“Me, a sissy…?” I almost fainted again.

“You are not, calm down please.” Ms. Nors asked.

“So, we have called your parents and your Dad will be here in two hours, after school,” VP said.

“I have found a complete Wednesday costume with shoes but without underwear,” the drama teacher added.

“I don’t need underwear, I have my whitey tighties already on and…”

“Panties,” said Ms. Nors.

“What?”

“This garment is called ‘panties’.”

“Really?”

“Really. I’ve checked the tag personally – ‘Girls panties, age 12’. Haven’t you read the tag?”

“The sales lady in the store said they would fit, they do fit, so why bother? By the way, I’m thirteen.”

“Certainly…”

“Ok, so they’re panties, they’re on and I don’t need another pair of underwear,” I said.

“You need a bra,” Ms. Nors said.

“Not again,” I growled, “I’m not a girl and I don’t have breasts.”

“You’re wrong,” Ms. Nors objected, “not big ones, but about size A. They’re correct for your age.”

“Those are muscles,” I complained.

“No, no,” she shook her head. “Those are soft round breasts with enlarged nipples. That again are appropriate for a girl your age.”

“How can I have breasts?” I was stunned and scared.

“We don’t know sweetie,” Mrs. Gordon said, “You need to visit a doctor, ASAP.”

“OK, I’ll ask Dad,” I said, “so what about that Friday costume?”

“It’s not a Friday, it’s a Wednesday,” the drama teacher corrected me.

“Is there a difference?”

“Haven’t you ever seen ‘The Addams family’ on TV?” she asked.

“We don’t have a TV,” was my reply.

“Oh!” all three exclaimed in unison.

 

 

The costume wasn’t that bad, but, it was a dress. Sleeves were a little too long and the skirt was a little too short. It wasn’t as short as a cheerleader’s uniform, but for me, it was obscene, especially because I was the one wearing it! Under it went pantyhose, which was cable knit as the drama teacher said. At last, there were the shoes. They were like a mix of sandals and regular shoes. One of the teachers called them ‘Mary Janes’. When I had them on they felt strange because apparently, they had a half inch heel. Ms. Nors said it wasn’t a big deal. I was used to having my heel at the same level as the rest of my foot and the extra height felt rather strange.

My hair was still damp and the drama teacher used a blow dryer on it. Now it was dry but voluminous and all three of teachers said it would better to keep the hair in bunches. I had my hair in bunches before during the photo session. Mrs. Gordon didn’t get ribbons for my hair, but some kind of rubber bands named ‘scrunches’.

They said I looked good and kind of cute in the dress and my hair in bunches. I wasn’t ready to face the world dressed as a girl yet. People still didn’t like me after the homecoming game. There was no way I could vindicate myself without revealing my secret that I was a boy. Mrs. Gordon let me spend the rest of the day in the library until my Dad got here. Then we could go to see the Doctor and see what Doc would say.

Before I left the VP gave me another cup of hot sweet tea and I was sitting on the edge of the couch sipping it.

“Even after I’ve seen the evidence,” the drama teacher started, “I see a girl, not a boy. Every movement, your posture, your manners say or rather scream ‘girl’. You sit straight with your knees together and drink your tea in small sips.”

“The tea is hot,” I said to explain the small sips, but I couldn’t find how to explain the rest.

 

 

Ms. Nors led me to the library when the fifth period was still in progress. There I was sitting at the farthest table and doing my homework. I was excused from today’s practice and was waiting for Dad to arrive. I was afraid of him teasing me about wearing the dress, as he and Rami usually teased me at home. I looked up and there he was, standing at the table and…

“Let’s go, you have an appointment in almost two hours. We have enough time to get a snack,” he said. And no teasing… Just naturally, like it normal for his younger son to be in a dress.

“Give me your hand,” he said as we were walking down the corridor.

“I’m grown up,” I complained.

“When you’re a girl it shows I’m protecting you.” Dad was always like that. He was always explaining everything anytime.

So we walked to the car my hand in his.

“The dress suits you, by the way,” he said while unlocking car’s door. “But black is definitely NOT your color.”

“But I’m a boy and…” I started to complain.

“Shush…” he raised his hand to silence me. “By the way, your drama teacher, Edith something…”

“Sablotzki,” I prompted.

“Yes, the same. So she said you need a bra.”

“But I’m not…”

“Shush,” he silenced me again. “First we’ll talk with the Doc, OK?”

 

 

The first thing was a stop at the food court in the mall. I had French fries and Dad had a papaya smoothie. We had still about an hour afterward, we ended up at one of those big superstores, one that has everything.

“Why…” I was about to complain but Dad interrupted me.

“As I said, black’s definitely not your color and you look like your all clothes are borrowed.”

I never said I liked that dress.

The same moment we entered the store there was a sales lady, ‘Leila’ was the name on her name tag, in front of us.

“I want Andy to change into something less formal and not so ‘costume’ in colors that suit her better,” Dad said. He looked at his watch and added: “and I need it in thirty minutes.”

“No problem,” the sales lady said. She already had her hand over my shoulders to take me somewhere when Dad stopped us.

“Andy, Leila… Leila, yes?” The saleslady nodded yes. “So Andy, Leila is professional. She knows best what suits you and what not so no complaining. OK?”

I nodded obediently and Leila took my hand in hers and led me to the shoe racks. She selected white and lilac colored sneakers to put on. They fit well, but I wasn’t sure about the colors and walked to the mirror. Even with black pantyhose, they looked good, really good. The color wasn’t so girly.

The next thing was a burgundy turtleneck pullover. Leila put up it to my front to see how it looks.

“Size 12, I guess,” she said and I nodded without complaining that my age was actually thirteen. So she took it and we headed to other racks that appeared to be the skirts. I was about to start complaining but then remembered what Dad had asked me. Leila took one from the rack, a denim one, put it in front of me and then led me to the changing rooms. She gave me both garments and ushered me into changing room.

“You change into those and I’ll be right back.”

I changed and I felt a little better in the pullover and skirt but the black pantyhose was really out of the place. Leila was back instantly and handed me a pack what was called ‘Ribbed tights’ colored violet.

“Wouldn’t it be too much violet?” I asked.

“It’s actually lavender,” Leila replied, “and your sneakers are purple amethyst. They are shades of violet. So you are partially right. Then Violet itself is a secondary color matching well with shades of purple, red and blue.”

I changed into the tights and they were the same as pantyhose, just much thicker.

“Look at yourself,” Leila exclaimed, “what a cute one. Let’s go see your Dad.”

Dad was waiting outside looking at some accessories.

“Wow! You look really good, I mean it!” Dad said. I twirled in front of him, he nodded his head approvingly then looked at his watch again.

“We still have eight minutes left… I guess we need a purse to complete the outfit,” he said and turned to Leila.

 

 

The visit to the Doctor wasn’t funny, a lot of blood was taken. The Doc set an appointment with another Doc – psycho-something – a shrink. Then she said whether you’re a girl or a boy, breasts need a bra or they will become saggy. Ewww…

“Plain or something fancy?” Dad asked.

“Plain,” I replied.

We were back in the same store again and Leila helped us again.

“This time we need a bra,” Dad stated, “I guess we need a few to last for a couple of days.”

“Do you know your size?” Dad turned to me. I shook my head ‘no’. “Ok, we need to get you measured first.”

Leila looked at me then at Dad then again at me and said: “Follow me.”

We followed her to the changing rooms and she led me into one of the cubicles.

“Wait here,” she said to Dad.

“I’m the Fa…”

“GET OUT!” Leila raised her voice.

“OK, OK…” Dad said and turned to look at some accessories as he did before.

“Men…” Leila sighed. “Take your pullover and underwear off.”

I took the pullover off.

“You have no underwear? Oh… Woolen pullover over bare skin isn’t good. Well… Stand straight and relax.”

She measured my chest with tape several times. Why several times? Wasn’t she experienced as Dad thought at first?

“Your bra size is 28A,” she said. “Do you have some style you like the best?”

“Uh-huh… not-wired, padded push-up?” Actually, I did know only one style, the one Randy told me during yoga camp.

“Oh… Padded push-up? Are you sure? Was it that style you were wearing to get those tan-lines?”

“That was sports bra,” I replied.

“Sports bra at your age?”

“I’m a cheerleader.”

“Well, wait for me here I’ll be right back,” she left and I was left staring at my so-called breasts in the mirror.

Leila was back shortly with a few white and creamy bras with enormous cups.

“So big?” I gasped.

“They are not,” she replied. “They are the padded push-up you said you wanted. They are seamless which makes them almost invisible under your clothes.”

Leila helped me to put one of them on. She had me struggle with the clasps on my back. It was simple after I got how my hands have to be bent. The bra felt neither good nor bad. It was here on my chest. I felt it but it didn’t pinch or chafe so it was probably OK.

“Should I take it off?” I asked.

“No, no. You’ll take it off for showering or for bed. So if this one is good I have more in the same size and style. I’ll select some in plain colors like white, nude and peach. Do you want some matching panties to go with them?”

“Why? No! I have enough panties.” I forced myself to say ‘panties’ instead of ‘whitey tighties’ and was about to put the pullover back on.

“Wait! Put a cami on first,” Leila handed me a vest but the material was softer and it had cups. It was good to have something under the pullover.

“Usually Moms come to buy the first bras for their daughters,” Leila said when she was ringing my purchases.

This time it was the Father with his son, I thought to myself staring at the girl with the tits and my face in the mirror at the side of the cash register.

 

 

It wasn’t late but it was too late for Dad to cook at home so we decided to grab some pizza and salad at the mall.

“Do you want to do some more shopping?” Dad asked after we placed pizzas on the back seat in his car.

“We still have a little more than an hour till your Mom comes home,” he said.

“Huh? Do I need?” It was so out of the blue.

“As you are now officially a girl and all girls adore shopping…”

“DAAAD!” There was that teasing again. “I’m NOT. That was coincidence…”

“Do you know you pout like a girl?”

“Yes, I do. Randy said it,” I replied with hands on hips.

“So, we go home then?”

“If we have still some time, can we go to the shelter to look at those kittens?” I asked.

“What shelter?”

“ASPCA I guess.”

“There’re two in the town. Was there a swan painted on the side of the car?”

“Oh no, definitely no swan. There was a lot of something written like phone numbers or something,” I replied.

“If there was no swan then it should be the shelter on North shore drive. Let’s go then.”

 

 

I’d expected the shelter to be like a farm with all special buildings for animals and birds. Apparently, it was exclusively a cats’ shelter and it looked like a house. Maybe it was a little bigger than a normal house but a house anyway.

“Oh, today’s heroine!” exclaimed the man behind the counter with the name tag ‘Paul’. The girl who was at the school, “Andy, right? I got your name at school. As I placed the pictures and videos on Facebook, I wanted to tag you on them but I couldn’t find you there.”

“I don’t have Facebook,” I said.

“If you have an email we can create you an account for you now,” the man offered.

I glanced at Dad and he shrugged and then nodded ‘yes’. “Why not,” he said.

“Stand here by the wall and I’ll take your picture,” Paul directed me to the wall and took a picture with his phone. Then he did something on his PC and at last handed me a piece of paper.

“Your login info,” he said.

“Thank you. May we see the kittens?” I asked, folded the paper and put it into my purse.

“Sure. Follow me.”

He led us through a corridor with cages stacked along one wall. There were two cats in every cage but they weren’t cramped because every cage was four feet long and three feet high. They weren’t at home and almost all cats looked sad. The corridor ended with a wide door with a ‘Quarantine’ sign on it.

Paul opened the door and let us in first. It was a big room with another four cages, but only one was occupied, with the kittens from the school stadium. Paul opened the cage and handed me one and then another. Other two were given to Dad. The kittens were very frisky and they moved all the time. I could barely keep two of them in my hands. When in the stadium they probably were cold, hungry and frightened so I could extract them from under the bleachers two at a time without any problem.

I put my two back into the cage and turned to see how Dad was doing. Paul had noticed something was wrong before me so he had taken the kittens from Dad already. Dad’s face was dark red, his eyes were tearing and his nose was running. Even his neck seemed a little puffy.

“Allergies?” Paul asked and Dad nodded.

“I have pills in the car,” he whispered and left the room hastily.

Paul closed kittens back in the cage and then led me to the exit.

“I’m sorry for your Father,” he said. “I half expected you would take one of them home but with your Dad’s allergy it would be senseless.”

We said our goodbyes and I hurried to the car. Dad was sitting behind the wheel as if nothing happened.

“It’s usually the same,” he said, “if I leave without delay and take my medicine it goes as fast as it comes.”

“The man, Paul, wanted to give us one kitten but with your allergy…”

“We probably can, but first we need to ask Mom and Rami too,” Dad said.

“And your allergy?”

“The allergy is actually not to fur but to fur mite’s feces. When there’re no mites there is no reason for the allergy.”

 

 

We were the first home and I headed to my room to change.

“Andy, wait!” Dad asked. “Don’t change. Please!”

“But Dad! Mom and Rami will laugh at me,” I whined.

“You’ll see, they won't,” Dad promised.

I stayed in the kitchen with Dad to prepare the salad and pizza.

Mom was the first to come home. She rushed into the kitchen and hugged me tightly. Then she held me at arm’s length and just stared at me.

“I’m so sorry I couldn’t be with you at your first outing,” she said.

Rami came home shortly. Dad was right! Rami didn’t tease me.

We had our meal and we were talking as we usually did. The talk wasn’t about me but one or another it was related to me, Dad’s allergy, we were talking about the kittens and me. Later it was Dad getting kicked out of the changing room and other moments of the day.

“Explore your other side,” Mom said, “others don’t have such an opportunity.”

It was so natural for me wearing the skirt, my padded and pushed-up tits sticking out. They looked bigger than they were to me, but then again it was probably just me. Others didn’t seem to notice my tits at all, or that I was a girl.

 

 

The next morning, I had to put my bra on. My tits were showing no matter what I would put on. That was a problem. I've said it before and I’ll say it again, I didn’t have my growth spurt like most boys do. My yearly growth was so insignificant that I haven't needed to buy new clothes. I only had to buy them when they were torn or worn, but I was very careful. Now I had a bunch of clothes from the sixth grade. The insignificant growth wasn’t a zero, I was growing a little anyway. What earlier was oversized now fit well. Why am I talking so much about clothes? I had no oversized ones anymore and anything I had was showing those stupid breasts. The only thing that I had was Rami’s hand me down hoodie. It was bulky enough to hide my tits.

It was like some kind of fun for everyone in my family but me. I had to live with me being mistaken for a girl and wait in anticipation for puberty to come. Boys tended to develop into hairy bulky creatures. Six months ago my friend Al and I were both five feet and now he was bigger than me. Another example was Rami – when we both were in junior high we were very much alike, though his hair was darker. Now he’s almost ten inches taller than me and weighs almost twice like me. The same will happen to me if not tomorrow then probably in a few months.

Yesterday was significant for me but for the rest of the student body, it was the same as any other. I was pariah yesterday and I will still be one today. To be invisible was much better than to be ignored.

 

 

There were still a few minutes left until the first period. I was waiting outside because the weather was nice, unlike it was yesterday. I was looking at the stadium and bleachers. Today there was a big puddle where the kittens were hiding before.

“Hey, Andy!” I heard Lucille approaching me. “That’s some school spirit you’ve showed yesterday.”

I turned around and there were the girls from my stunt along with Chris with Sean.

“Facebook is buzzing about you and those four kittens,” Cathy said.

“We all think it’s time for you to come back to the squad,” Chris stated. “The coach is eager to see you with us again also.”

“Are you really ok with me here?” I stammered.

“Look… How can I say it?” Chris mumbled.

“Maybe you were wrong once, but you are our best girl cheerleader,” Sean said.

“But… but I am…”

“Welcome home,” Lucille said and the group hugged me.

“By the way, black is definitely NOT your color,” Sheila stated.

The Bliss

 

Chapter 3
“Your secret’s revealed now”

Andy is a shy but persistent tomboy. Everyone and all around him (or should we say 'her'?) are fighting against his/her tomboyishness vigorously.

 

This story is in three parts and it's completed.
My thanks to Amanda Lynn for proofreading and helpful suggestions.
This is a work of adult fiction so that's a caution that covers everything. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.

 

I missed practice again because Dad had called the office. I was told to go to his studio, so I took the bus to West Bayside where Dad had his dojo. Dad’s clientele was so-called middle-upper-class, they were not restricted by work hours. Only a few of his classes were after work. My Mom was teaching mostly college and high school students, and others who were rather middle-middle-class. Mom worked till eight or nine at night. When I got to Dad’s studio he still had his class going so I darted into the dojo. He nodded to me to take a seat on the ground. His other students were sitting also. It wasn’t the practice but rather some talking about self-defense and street fights.

“So ladies, when someone attacks you on the street, forget the words ‘honor’ and ‘pretty,” started Dad. I looked around the dojo and all his students were women. It was too much, all this girly stuff for me so I stood up and went to Dad’s office to wait for him there.

There was a poster on the wall in his office with me cheerleading on it. I didn’t want to stare at myself so I left for his side room where he could take a break or take a nap. I was flipping through one of his yoga magazines when Dad came to his office with someone.

“Oh, what a cheer!” they said. “Who is she that she’s found a place on your wall?”

“Andy. I’m so proud to be her Dad!”

Arghhh, Dad, don’t forget to mention ‘she’ is a boy. Again, don’t I have a say in it?

 

 

I thought we were going to see a different doctor today. Apparently, we went to see the same one because she had my blood test results.

“You have an overall quantity of estrogens/androgens similar to an adolescent girl. Your prolactin maximum is expressed very clear,” the Doctor said.

“That means?” Dad asked.

“That means that Andy is developing more like a girl than like a boy,” she replied. “What vitamins are you taking?”

“None,” I replied.

“Supplements?”

“Only something for acne.”

“And that is?”

I told her what I knew.

“Is it Pueraria mirifica?” she asked.

“Yes, it is. I just can’t pronounce its name.”

 

 

Long story short. That anti-acne remedy had caused the development of my breasts – nobody to blame but me. The Doc wasn’t sure if giving me male hormone shots would induce male puberty or cause only partial development of some male attributes.

Then she called another Doc, endo-something. The endo-something came into the room, after a short talk he, Dad and I went to his office. There he made me undress completely and examined my breasts as well as my dangling bits. Then he took a picture of my willy and balls with his phone and at last he let me get dressed. He asked us to wait in the outside while he called his colleagues.

After waiting thirty minutes, he invited us back into his office. “So…” he started “I’ve talked with my colleagues, we need to wait for a psychiatric evaluation. Whether you discontinue taking Pueraria mirifica or not, your breasts will continue to develop at a low pace. Giving you testosterone is useless because testosterone is blocked by prolactin. Experimenting with higher testosterone doses would be irresponsible.”

 

 

I was the only one to blame. I wanted to cry but I didn’t because that would be too girly. The only choice was to try to remain strong and…

“Andy, we’ll never blame you for what you’ve done. We'll always love you no matter what you decide,” Dad said putting his arm around my shoulders.

I sniffled and nodded. If I tried to speak I’d burst into tears. I decided to remain strong.

“Home?”

“Mall,” I said and sniffled again. “I need a new bra that doesn’t make my tits stand out so much.”

“Breasts,” Dad corrected me.

“Well, breasts then, please?”

This time it was another store, another sales lady and I wanted plain white or tan colored sports bras. I got both in three packs each. At first, the sales lady tried to get me into small talk. I wasn’t interested so her chatting died instantly.

 

 

Two days later I went to that psycho-shrink. She, her name’s Melody, was younger than Mom. After introductions, she talked with me alone, then with Dad a little. Afterward, I was in her office alone again and I was given a tablet to take a test. I found out that on the internet there were about one hundred questions to determine how much female or male a person was. What I got were more questions and I was sitting there for almost three hours.

One good thing was that we didn’t need to wait for the results from the test to be evaluated. Probably my answers were analyzed by special software on-the-fly.

“Well Andy, the results show that you're a girl, maybe slightly on the tomboyish side but definitely a girl.”

“So what now?” I asked.

“You say,” Melody replied.

“I don’t want to.”

“Let be positive. OK?”

“NO!”

“Andy!” Dad interrupted. “You aren’t a kid anymore.”

“OK. I want to be normal, I want a normal life. Normal like a normal boy or like a normal girl! While now I am neither. I’m not a boy, I’m not a girl and I’ll never be. There is no positive in my situation at all.”

“I’ll help you to transform your situation into a positive with what we have,” Melody stated. “Not in a day, not even in a month but I’m sure a few months later your attitude will be completely different. You’ll be a much happier person.”

 

 

“The positive thing is you don’t need to be afraid of getting manly if you decide to be more girly,” Dad stated when we were in the car.

“Don’t understand…”

“You’ve said more than once you are afraid to be seen as a girl while you may develop into a bulky young man in the nearest future. Don’t be, you will not.”

“What?”

“Don’t be afraid to dress like a girl. You will not develop into a man.”

“Oh… Really… I didn’t think that way.”

“Then try it.”

“Well… But there’re some people who know I’m a boy and…”

“Your squad?” Dad asked.

“No, the three teachers, but they are not so threatening. That’s Al and his…”

“Are you sure?” Dad interrupted me. “Do you remember talking about Al’s girlfriend?”

“What she has to do with me being a boy?”

“Cause you are Al’s girlfriend.”

“ME? How… Why…”

“That young woman…”

“Erica,” I said.

“Yes, Erica spoke to Al’s sister to ask Al’s girlfriend to babysit. Now think about it. How much time does it take to call someone and explain that not you but a friend of yours needs some help and you are asking for something for them?”

“About ten minutes I guess.”

“So, you heard about Al’s girlfriend and no less than ten minutes later Al’s sister turned to you for help?” Dad asked.

“No, no. It was almost immediately,” I replied. “Oh… Really… But Al…”

“When you asked Al about his new girlfriend what was his reaction?”

“He denied everything,” I said.

“As Melody has said you are definitely a girl. So, you don’t know how two boys talk about girls?”

“DAAAD!”

“I’m serious. When a boy asks another boy about a girl, real or imaginary, the first boy’s reaction is manly, macho. Kind of ‘Oh, she’s hot’ or at least ‘I wish it was true’. Now another situation. Boy’s girlfriend is asking about his new girlfriend, no matter real or fake, The boy will deny everything. He won't even want to discuss it at all.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m a man and I was a boy,” he said, “so this is first-hand knowledge.”

“What if you're not right and Al really has a new girlfriend and…”

Dad raised his hands to stop me there.

“Listen. You are talking like a girl again. For another boy, there is no problem at all if his friend has a girlfriend or not if that girlfriend isn’t his girlfriend also. Boys don’t discuss their emotions or love. They brag about it.”

 

 

So Dad had proved I was thinking like a girl. That made me more positive about my future. That had consequences.

The Endo-something doc decided I needed testosterone blockers. That's to prevent me from becoming like other boys, hairy and everything. But I was too young to get female hormones. He recommended taking the same stuff I'd been taking for acne. He offered to start using herbal progesterone supplement. They were not certified like hormones, or even like medicine. But they were certified dietary supplements. Doc said those were better than nothing. Without any hormones at all development and growth stops almost completely. Thus up to my eighteenth birthday, I would stay like I was now, and now I looked like a twelve-year-old girl.

Not only hormones were reserved for my eighteenth birthday. No reassignment surgery could be done. Dad said that there was a treatment that helped to look like a girl without cutting anything off. This way I could use girls’ restrooms and changing rooms at school. As of now, I was using faculty rooms instead, and for my practice, I was changing in Ms. Nors office.

That psycho-shrink Melody, despite that she said earlier that I was a tomboy, tried to trick me into being more girly. She wanted me to go to school in a skirt! Maybe she was right and it wasn’t a big deal. I, on the other hand, was afraid there was someone in the school who knew me as a boy. Then they would stone me as soon as I stepped into the school! Maybe I was wrong but I dreaded it a lot.

 

 

Girls were attending our school in jeans mostly, like me. Their jeans were girly, hugging their butts tightly with some embroidery. Their shirts were girly too. Some girls wore skirts and they were the cheerleaders for the most part. I was one too. But I wasn’t a girl. Mom had promised to bring me to the mall one day, but she was busy all the time. So it was Dad, the same store and Leila again. This time I needed something girly but not too girly. I needed something more appropriate for a girl to wear as opposed to her brother’s hand-me-downs.

“Andy needs jeans that fit her better than what she’s wearing now. Maybe a shirt or two,” Dad explained.

“Hipsters?” Leila asked.

I didn’t know the word so I looked at Dad for an explanation while he looked at me then we both looked at Leila.

“Low rise,” she said.

I knew that there were low rise houses. Was Leila referring to me as a short one now? Dad and I looked at each other and then at Leila again.

Leila sighed audibly.

“It’s about the waistline,” she said. “Most girls like a lower waistline so their belly button shows.”

“Maybe not,” I said.

“Not what?”

“I mean I want normal waist,” I said.

“So high waisted jeans then,” Leila confirmed. “Some skirts?”

“I have one already,” I said.

“An average girl usually has ten skirts in her closet,” Leila said.

“I don’t have a closet,” I replied.

“Andy has a dresser,” Dad explained.

“Oh, I see…” Leila trailed off. “I remember you bought a skirt about a few weeks ago. Are you talking about that one?”

“Uh, huh… Yes.”

“How did you like it? Did you wear it at home or to school?” she asked.

“Eh… Neither,” I said. “It’s too short.”

“WHAT?” Leila shrieked. “It’s miraculous. You are the first girl to say a skirt’s too short.”

“Er… It exposes too much.”

“Keep your knees together and…”

“I know, I know…” I interrupted her. “But there is that triangle of the flat hem and my thighs here that shows everything.”

“Haven’t you tried to cross your legs?”

“At school? Isn’t that impolite?” I wondered.

“Well, no… And it helps with your posture. I mean to sit straight,” Leila explained.

“Well… OK… I’ll give it a try. But I’d prefer something longer and maybe something not so tight…”

“And what tops?”

“Tops what?” I looked at Dad.

“Shirts,” he explained.

“Blouses,” Leila said.

“No frills?” I asked.

“No frills,” Leila sighed again. “No tomboy gives in without a fight.”

 

 

When we started moving to the racks it dawned to me that I actually didn’t want a skirt. Any skirt. Pants were ok, so why bother with skirts, short or long, tight or lose? Maybe jeans will be the first stop… No such luck. The first stop was the shirts. They were anything but normal.

The first one I was given was obviously too small, it was tight, short and the sleeves were too short. It was stretchy too. Not that stretchy normal but stretchy that clung to my body like the second skin. It showed a lot of my bare skin and what it covered was enhanced, my tits were enormous. I turned to Dad with the hope he will rescue me.

“You look good in it,” he stated. “I’d say even hot.”

“I don’t need ‘hot’. There’re already some idiots that are drooling over that stupid poster.” I replied.

“Language…” Dad started.

Why ‘Language’ when I wasn’t cursing. ‘Stupid’ is a very normal word.

“What poster?” Leila asked.

“Moment…” Dad said and started scrolling his Smartphone.

“This one,” he showed his phone to Leila.

“Oh!” She looked at the photo attentively. “Your face is familiar. My son has this poster on the wall of his room.”

“Oh…” I managed to respond.

“So… Do you want this crop top?” Leila asked.

“Crop?...”

“Cropped tee.”

“We take it,” Dad said.

“But…”

“It’s OK, it’s not as extreme as it looks at first. We'll take it.”

Sure… Dad’s word was the last one. I’d tried. I’d tried hard, but I was alone and there were two of them. Leila was a professional and Dad had the money.

We got more like that. Actually not like that last one but not like I was used to. If it was a white shirt, it was almost see through. Another was normal but its sleeves were puffy, it was something ruffled, loose and was called a poet shirt. Another one was almost normal but all edges were rounded and the collar had no button, only a little bow instead. At last, there was a shirt that looked like a regular flannel shirt. It felt the same but it had only two buttons on top and no buttons at the bottom. It was supposed to be tied in a knot at the bottom. All those things were called tops. Not shirts or tees but tops because they were neither shirts nor tees.

I’d noticed a plain tee in dark lavender. When I took it from the rack there were the words ‘Bad girl’ stenciled on the front. It almost made me cry because otherwise, it was an excellent plain tee that I could wear every day. I had my tees all plain without images or text on them. I wanted one like that but there were none. Dad had noticed my frustration so he found and bought me a plain one in coral color. There was almost invisible (his words) ‘Daddy’s princess’ in gold on it. Thank you Dad(dy)!

 

 

The ‘tops’ part was over, I had a lot of them. When and where I’ll wear them? I don’t know. I now have so many tees and shirts… Next stop! Bottoms. Why bottoms, by the way?

Jeans were almost the same, except they were extremely tight, especially around my butt. Or was my ass really so fat?

“My butt looks too fat in it,” I complained trying to use only proper words.

“I don't think so,” Leila replied. “What do you think, sir,” she turned to Dad. Those two had become conspirators recently.

“Leila is right, Andy,” Dad said. What else could he say?“ although another inch would make your bottom look better, I guess.”

And another two pairs almost the same as the first one in slightly different colors, for a change. I was ready to move on but no such luck. Skirts!

“I don’t need them! I have one and it’s more than enough!”

“Just try one on,” Dad said. “If it doesn’t look good on you, we don’t take it. OK?”

It was a trap and I realized it too late. I’d tried some and most of them ended in the same bunch of purchased items. There was a full circle skirt, then a pleated one, then the tiered one which I liked. I didn’t know when and where and for what occasions to wear it though. Another was an ordinary skater skirt. Why skater? I didn’t know. I had no skates and even if I had I would be like a cow on the ice.

The next stop was shoes and socks or rather hosiery. This part was OK. We went through it quickly. They both agreed I was too young for high heels. I ended with some trainers and ballet flats – nothing special, nothing fancy and almost no glitter.

“Jewelry?” Leila asked when she was ready to scan all purchases.

“Why?”

“To be pretty.”

“Dad,” I turned to Dad and found him studying something on the accessories rack. “Am I pretty?”

“Definitely you are,” he stated.

“See?” I turned to Leila. “I am already, so don’t bother for more.”

“Hey, you’re playing dirty!” Leila complained as she turned to Dad, “What about some jewelry for your princess, sir?”

Who’s playing dirty now?

 

 

Next day I went to school all girly. I’d fought hard and my defeat was only partial because of my fight. I was in my very first girly outfit. That’s the straight denim skirt, lavender tights, amethyst sneakers, and burgundy turtleneck. I had a bra and that cami-thing on me too. I had a new jacket on because it was December and it was cold outside. The jacket was girly too, not extremely girly but anyway. Its buttons were on left and there were no pockets just clasps where pockets were supposed to be. Because there were no pockets, I had the purse Dad had bought me.

There I was at school, all colorful and girly waiting for the bell to ring when Al approached me. He’ll laugh at me now because I was stupid and allowed this to…

“Hi. You look sooo good,” Al said instead. He looked at me up and down and then fixed his gaze on my tits and then licked his lips. “You are so hot, really.”

“Look, I’m the same Andy inside,” I felt uncomfortable with him staring at me.

“Ah… OK… What I wanted to say… Look, I’ll have another sis…”

“Wow! I didn’t notice your Mom’s pregnant.”

“She’s not,” Al confirmed. ”Look, Mom’s sis, my aunt passed away all of sudden and her daughter’s only relative is my Mom so she’s coming here today. Terry is busy with Cassie and her studies so if you could come to my place and help Miranda to adapt to a new place…”

“Randy?” I gasped. “Isn’t your aunt’s name Tiffany?”

“It was. Did you know her?”

“We were at the same yoga camp this summer with Tiffany and Randy. And now… she… sob… Tiff…” What was happening to me recently? Was I turning into a sissy with all these girly things around me? This time I couldn’t keep tears from falling and I couldn’t do anything with myself as I started sobbing and weeping.

 

 

Now we both, that’s Al and I were in VP office. Some teacher thought Al did something terrible to me. That teacher came to my rescue and had brought us both into the VP office. Here Al managed to tell the story two times. He explained why I was weeping and I confirmed that Al was innocent and that it was me who couldn’t keep from crying.

It couldn’t be worse. Mrs. Gordon was one of three teachers who knew I was really a boy. Now I was in her office all in tears and Al was comforting as if I was his girlfriend. It was so wrong that it made me cry even harder.

Al eventually was given a pass and sent away. I, on the other hand, was still in Mrs. Gordon’s office and there was My drama teacher too. She was working with my face and eyes after I finally stopped crying.

“It’s OK for us girls to cry after we find out someone we know has passed away,” Mrs. Sablotzki said.

“But you know I’m really not and I have no right to behave like I’m behaving now,” I said and sniffled back some tears.

“I guess or rather I’m sure you really are one of us just you don’t know it yet.”

“Your friend will be attending our school,” Mrs. Gordon said, interrupting our girl talk. “She’s grade ten but I guess you’ll see each other during practice. She’d mentioned she was squad captain at her old school.”

“She’s on dance squad,” I said, “while I’m on stunt squad.”

“Oh,” VP managed to say.

 

 

The Drama teacher had applied some makeup on me and I was not only dressed girly now but I was painted girly too. It didn’t go unnoticed, though. Almost everyone had complimented my good looks. I did my part too: I blushed and thanked, I thanked and blushed. I guessed my face was permanently red till the end of the day.

I was excused from practice to go to Al’s home and comfort Randy. There were a lot of hugs, some crying and some sniffing.

I thought that practice was much better than self-pity, sulking and crying. I dragged Randy back to school while cheerleading practice was about to start.

The stunt team was practicing in the gym while dancers were in the auditorium. I lead her to drama class where dancers were changing. I introduced her to dance squad coach Ms. Miles and their captain Allison. Some pleasantries, some hugs, and some tears later they were bubbling about what they usually did. Randy was accepted without try-outs so I left her in the auditorium and went to Ms. Nors office to change myself.

“Haven’t I excused you to comfort your friend?” Ms. Nors asked.

“I have already,” I replied. “I guessed practice was better than sulking.”

“So where is she?”

“In the auditorium.”

“Why not here? We could use another flyer. Sarah and Liz are graduating this year.”

“Yeah, I know. But Randy is… Keep it secret, please! So she’s like fearing heights. Working on the beam that was lying on the ground was a real challenge for her,” I explained.

“It’s acrophobia,” Ms. Nors said.

“Ah, thanks, I’m confusing it with arachnophobia, I guess.”

“That one is about spiders.”

“Yeah… I know.”

 

 

After practice, Randy and I went to Al’s home again as it was her home too now. There I helped her to settle into her new bedroom. It was Terry’s bedroom before Terry moved to the first-floor guest bedroom after Cassie was born. Then we fussed with Cassie and then Randy and I cried a little again and then I went home.

When I got home, it dawned on me that I was dressed as a girl all day, and not simply a girl but a girly girl and I was in a skirt! Randy’s arrival helped me to forget that I was supposed to be sulking. I’d enjoyed myself. I guess Randy being there helped. It’s always good to reunite with friends.

 

 

After the homecoming game, there was another important event coming – state competition. Stunt team and dancers will perform together. The practice routine now included dancing drill too. Only two weeks were left so we were practicing three hours a day and also on Saturdays and Sundays.

The event was held in the state capital and as the state capital isn’t the biggest city. They even didn’t have the squad to compete. The competition was planned in Community College gym. It was bigger than the school and it had bleachers for the public to sit.

The intense practice was a pain but at the same time, it was good for Randy. She was thinking less about her Mom and crying less because she was too busy with homework and practice. Now with Randy here, with intense practice and everything I was spending even less time with Al than before. I was spending a lot of time with Randy but she liked to come over to my place instead of being at home. With me, at my home, she felt as everything was normal. At home, even the fact of her being there reminded her about the loss.

When we were together she taught me some girly things like makeup, nails, and hair.

I wasn’t about to cut my hair or die it another color. I learned to put it in different ponytails. There was a special high tail where the hair was tied, raised up, left and looked like it was loose. Actually, it was tied and didn’t get into the face. The next thing to do with my hair was to braid it. I liked the single braid the most. With a ribbon braided in it, some color could be added. My hair was very long so the braid was long too, so I could roll it, twist it, tie it, raise it and then tie it in a knot. Possibilities were almost endless but a single loose braid with a ribbon in it I liked the most.

Makeup? I wasn’t ready for it yet. It was good looking on others but not on me. Even when Randy painted me so carefully I didn’t like it. No. It was not my thing. The only thing make up related I really liked were nails. I liked them dark with some blue shades in the color. I was good at matching them with the color of the things I was wearing. Anyway, any other makeup wasn’t good for cheerleading. Anything painted on the face was steadily converting into combat paint during practice or at the game. Only waterproof mascara and eye paint worked.

When we went to the state capital for a competition I was even more girly than when I came to school in a skirt. My hair was braided with a ribbon in it, my nails were painted and I even had some mascara.

The place was two hours away by bus so we didn’t need to stay overnight like other girls. The only bad thing was I couldn’t get the same privacy for changing and showering as at home. Ms. Nors interceded for other girls to let me use the far end of the changing room. I used the only available semi-private showering cubicle because I was very shy (her words).

I was showering after the competition. By the way, we got second place. So I showered in that semi-private cubicle. Then I reached for the towel where I’d left it before entering the cubicle and there was nothing. There was the hook but no towel. I looked at the floor for it may have dropped down, but there was nothing on the floor either. I could hear other girls in the changing room. What could I do? I covered my groin and breasts with my hands and scooted to my locker.

There was my towel hanging on the locker door but it was shut and I needed both hands to open the door and grab the towel. I had to uncover myself, so I did.

At the same moment, I heard the changing room door open and I instinctively turned around. There was Ms. Nors standing. She was staring at me and she was turning as white as a sheet of paper.

“At last!” I heard Lucille say. I turned around and there were all the girls in various stages of undressing. Sheila and Liz, another flyer, were completely nude like I was.

“At last we’ve proven you’re a girl like any other girl in this room. We all are tired of your constant ‘I’m not like you’ nonsense,” Lucille said. “Don’t be so shy around us girl, we are all the same.”

There I was the nude girl standing in front of other girls and our coach. I had to admit, Dad was right again. That very simple procedure made me look like any other girl. The Doc was reluctant at first but then, after I’d told I had no erection more than a year, he conceded. So he made what Dad was asking for.

Despite my change, I was still shy around girls and not only girls. I had boys’ parts hidden and I felt like a pervert with undressed girls around.

 

 

Back at home, we were honored at school by the principal during a gathering in the auditorium. To be the second in the state isn’t bad! The squad got a trophy from the state. It showed that the squad wasn’t less important than the football team or the girls’ volleyball team. Both teams had more events and eventually, they had more trophies. Only the cheerleaders had won a trophy in a state competition.

Christmas was nearing with its dance events but those were for seniors and juniors. Freshmen like me and Al and sophomores like Randy were still too young for dating.

Rami, on the other hand, was dating Alice and they were spending a lot of time at our house. Rami said they were doing their homework together. I’d caught them a couple of times and Rami’s hand was groping Alice’s breast. They really were studying human anatomy probably.

Otherwise, Alice was cool to talk to. She offered to take me and Randy with them to Kennebunkport for a Christmas prelude fair. I liked the idea and Randy was eager to go too. There wasn’t much snow for skiing yet and the weather wasn’t suited for hiking or walking either. So Alice’s offer was great.

We got to Kennebunkport in less than an hour and there we separated. That means Rami and Alice went one way while Randy and I went another. We went through the main street with shops and booths. There was a pooch parade, that was great fun to watch, dogs in fancy costumes.

While strolling from booth to the booth we met Chris and Sean. Chris said they had met Rami with Alice first and they’d said we were here too. So that wasn’t a pure accident. The boys were looking for Randy and me. After some reshuffle, Randy ended with Sean while I with Chris. It suited me. I liked Chris the most of all of the boys on squad.

Like at any other fair there were booths with various competitions. Boys had an opportunity to show off. I was a boy too so I’d tried also, but there was something wrong with my aim. So I left it to Sean and Chris. The boys were aiming while Randy and I were cheering. And boys tried a few times.

“I’ve got to know your great secret,” Chris suddenly said so… so out of the blue. Yeah… I had to know before agreeing to go out as a girl that eventually someone may and will reveal my secret. The time had come.

“I was suspicious from the very first day we met,” he said, “and now Rami and Randy confirmed it.”

How? Randy had never said she really knew. How Rami could…

“Now I know for sure you have not a single stuffed animal. So let it be the first,” and Chris presented me a huge Teddy Bear. Yes, it was that classical Teddy Bear the boyfriend Chris wins for his girlfriend Andy, me.