Cousins in arms 1(5) Flapper girl

 

 

Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

Edited by Amanda Lynn.

 

Ray had lost the bet and he had to come to the school Halloween costume party as a girl with a companion. Later I’d got to know it wasn’t just companion but rather a date. Don’t ask what bet. His friends were all like that. I remember a few years ago when I was hanging with Ray. The funniest thing they thought to do then was to smear a snot over a doorknob.

Ray was sixteen and sophomore, like my elder sis Cindy. I was thirteen. He asked for help. I said I’ll do everything to help him. Not that I could much. I knew something about make-up, more than Cindy knew. Cindy was tomboy-nazi. At the same time not like other tomboys, she wasn’t volleyball or basketball or any other-ball player. She was in a dance squad. Like cheerleader only doing it on the ground, without jumping or tumbling. At rallies she needed make-up but she didn’t know how to apply it. Mom had shown a few times but Cindy didn’t grasp while I did. I did her make-up when she needed it. I could do Ray’s make-up.

He didn’t know what costume to take. His friends offered everything sexy slutty like a nurse, French-maid, or schoolgirl. Ray then was already halfway in his puberty. He was six-one and almost one hundred fifty pounds. His voice had broken already and he was shaving every next day. He didn’t look like an adult man but he was no way a bit feminine.

How make him a convincing girl? My mom came to rescue. She was in drama when she was in high school and later in college. She had some of her old costumes stored in the attic. Among them was a flapper girl costume. A boyish figure with almost no curves was in fashion in the 1920s. The fashionable hair was short – another pro for flapper. Add to this one-inch heel and very sparse makeup with only lips accented in a cupid bow shape. Every boy could be dressed as the flapper girl if he wasn’t Frankenstein. Ray wasn’t.

So we settled what costume it will be, we had measured Ray and knew what alteration to do. Then the second shoe dropped.

“Ari, I want you to be my companion,” Ray stated. Ari’s my name short of Ariel, meaning the Lion of the Lord and not redhead mermaid. Our fathers served in Afghanistan years ago. The two of them were what people call brothers in arms. And they decided to name their son’s by each other’s father’s name. So Ray was named as my dad’s father and I was named like Ray's grandfather.

“Huh? No,” I responded.

“Ari, please. My friends all have dates to go. And I currently have no one to ask only you.”

“Zoe? You both are an item,” I offered.

“It’s already in the past,” he mumbled.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“You see, I need your help. Really.”

“If I’ll go I’ll need costume too,” I mused. “You are a flapper so I have to be something from the same period, maybe kind of gangster with the Thompson?”

Mom didn’t have what I needed, but she had friends. She got a hat, striped coat, shoes, and Thompson. The shirt I had my own. The only thing I needed was striped trousers.

That was a problem. I didn’t have even black ones. At the moment money was an issue. My younger bro Martin was diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy and the entire time mom was with him. There were a lot of things that were recommended and weren’t covered by health care. Dad was a construction foreman. His salary was enough for healthy living but not for disability. I was sidetracked, sorry. I had three pairs of jeans to wear at school. At home and around I was wearing leggings. Like, mom and Cindy. Nobody cared and it didn’t bother me. Eventually, mom bought striped leggings. They were more than ten times cheaper as similar suit pants.

I had a costume for me too. I looked good. The coat was covering my butt. As it and leggings were coordinated they seemed like the parts of the same costume. Applying a dark blue shadow to my face I managed to imitate the five o’clock beard. My hair was short. It wasn’t buzz-cut but short and parted on the left side. I guessed I looked fairly masculine for a thirteen-years-old.

 

 

The next question was dancing. You say flapper girl and you see her dancing Charleston. I knew what it was and I could dance Charleston because my sis Cindy was in dance squad. They were practicing a lot in the field behind our backyard. There were sixteen girls and they had their dancing moves arranged in pairs and squares. For one girl of sixteen to be missing was a usual thing. I was their substitute to fill for any missing girl at their practices. I knew basic moves and basic dances. They didn’t do anything fancy. The gist was to move synchronously.

Ray didn’t dance. He danced fast dances what’s like jumping to the rhythm of the music. He’d had few classes of ball dances but he didn’t remember much. We had still a few weeks for him to practice.

 

 

On the day of the costume party, Ray drove his car with me in the shotgun seat to his school parking. As we exited the car and I was leading him with his arm hooked in mine I turned to him…

“OMG Ray! How you manage to smear your lipstick while driving the car?”

Good, I’d noticed it. I took a purse from him and hanged it over my shoulder. I had no pockets because I was wearing leggings and Ray had no pockets because he was in the flapper dress. I took a tissue folded it to make the sharp edge wetted it with my tongue and cleaned around his lips. Then I reapplied the lipstick and corrected eyeliner.

“Keep your hands away from your face, OK,” I offered.

“Yes, mom.” He was impossible.

There were two teachers at the entrance to the dancing hall.

“Oh! Mr. Fisher, you’ve made it!” the teacher at reception said. “Or would it be Ms. Fisher this time? And who is your date today?”

I was about to introduce myself but Ray was faster: “Ariel Spencer,” he said.

“Well… I write it like MISTER Ariel Spencer and MISS Ray Fisher,” the teacher said with a chuckle. He emphasized the words, Mister and Miss.

“Who has done your make-up? It’s a good idea a blue beard shadow,” the female teacher praised.

“I did it myself,” I replied.

“You are not from our school?” the teacher asked.

“Lyman Moore Junior High,” I confirmed.

“I see… I would remember such a pretty face here,” she said.

Ray and I were attending not only different schools. We were in different school districts. Cindy and I were in Portland while Ray was in Falmouth. We were neighbors by our backyards.

I guessed Ray’s teachers thought I was a girl. First I wanted to correct them but then… Teacher’s words I was Ray’s date. I’ll never see those teachers again so why to bother?

Later I found out not only teachers assumed I was a girl. Ozzie Ray’s friend I knew from the past asked me a couple of times to dance with him. He was without date and Ray could go with him. I considered not asking about his girlfriend. I remembered how Ray was upset after he’d split with his girlfriend Zoe. Then I danced with Ray and then a pack of us danced together and suddenly the music was switched to slow dance. I was about to retreat from the dance floor but Ray stood in my way.

“Would you?” Ray asked. “Girls say as I’m one of them now they wouldn’t dance with me.”

We started to dance and it was weird, extremely weird. He was almost a foot above me. With him close to me my head was under his chin. The slow dance ended and Charleston followed. That one we did perfectly. Days spent practicing with Ray weren’t futile. We weren’t the only two on the dance floor. Only two of us were dancing while others were trying to participate. After the Charleston, I wanted to take a break but the waltz started and it was announced as the last dance of the party. Ray didn’t let me go. He had practiced so much. I couldn’t let him down. Only in the middle of the dance, it downed to me that Ray was leading. No matter how was he dressed he was a man here. I didn’t notice how it happened but it was just so – his right hand on my waist and my left on his shoulder. Crap!

 

 

After the party, Ray drove me and Ozzie home. Ozzie while he had no car and his home was two houses away from Ray. First, he drove to my home. I was sure we would go to Ray’s home and then I’ll come home through a backyard. But Ray decided otherwise and he made almost two miles hook to let me out at my home door.

It wasn’t very late when I got home. I didn’t expect mom waiting for me.

“How was your date?” she asked.

“Mooom!”

Cousins in arms 2(5) Little drummer boy

 

 

Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

Edited by Amanda Lynn.

 

After Halloween, there was a time when I had nothing to do. Well, I had to do my homework and chores at home. I mean lawn mowing was already over and snow shoveling will start who knows when. Cindy had a babysitting job. She was busy three or four days a week. I envied her so much! Even in summer months, she was getting more in a week than I in a month.

The worst part of it was I knew how to babysit. I’d helped Cindy sometimes. But I was too young. And I was a boy. Christmas was nearing and I had no money. Well, I had a little but it wasn’t enough for all presents.

It was a Saturday after the Halloween party. It was a sunny day. The ground and lawns were dried a little. I used the moment to pick dogs’ feces in the neighborhood. Well, it’s a job like all others. I didn’t like it but I was paid five dollars a week for every lawn. That made some money kind of allowance other kids had.

I had this job finished already when I saw Ray and Ozzie approaching me. They exchanged glances. Then they nudged each other.

“Hey, Ari,” Ray started, “Ozzie here wants to ask you a favor.”

“My dad has some recycling business,” Ozzie started, “I want to help him and make some money. But I’m stuck at home with kids. You see, my mom passed out three months ago…”

“Oh, my… I’m so sorry…” I blurted out.

“I can’t go and help my father on weekends like I did when mom was still with us. I don’t have enough money to pay the agency and all the other girls I know they are busy. And then Ray said maybe you…”

“Do you know I’m not a girl?” I asked him.

“Sure I do.”

“What kids by the way?”

“Erica four and Melody six.”

“Oh… Are you sure about me with girls?”

“Definitely,” Ozzie confirmed nodding his head yes.

 

 

“It’s not fair!” asserted Cindy.

“How so? We both are working now,” I retorted.

“Because you are working now on weekends you don’t do home chores,” she said.

I dusted and vacuumed and did laundry during weekends while Cindy was babysitting. I was busy at weekends now as was she.

“We’ll do home chores after school…”

“WE?” Cindy shouted. “I WILL NOT. That’s your job.”

“Is NOT,” I complained. “It’s OUR job. I was doing it for you cuz you’re babysitting.”

“I’m still babysitting so…”

“Me too!” I didn’t want to give in. “I need my money too.”

“I say it’s not fair,” Cindy repeated herself. “I need the money and you don’t. I give all my clothes to you…”

“And then I’m mistaken for a girl. Thank you very much!”

“It’s not clothes. It’s like you move and talk like… like other girls in dance squad.”

“I DO NOT!” Her accusation was unreasonable. I had never mimicked the girls. The dance routine wasn’t real life. I was performing better than them. It was girls that were copying my moves during their practice.

“YOU DO,” she teased wiggling her ass in front of me.

“Stop it,” mom ordered. “Ari is right. You BOTH have to do home chores.”

I was tempted to stick my tongue at Cindy but I’d suppressed that urge.

 

 

Money is a good thing. I’d say it’s a very good thing. Especially when I got more than I’d expected. Ozzie and his dad paid me for cleaning their home, doing the laundry, and making lunch and dinner for girls. Girls were eager to help. Our weekends were not only watching TV. We went together for groceries and spent less money on all weekend meals than the cost of one pizza order. As the thrift store was nearby we checked it every time we went for groceries.

We didn’t buy anything for girls. They just watched what was available. They were too young for real shopping. I was looking for a pantsuit (mom said it was exactly as it was named) for myself. I also needed shoes and parka or overcoat. Instead of regular shoes, I got boots on the platform. They were to the middle of the calf and I could wear them under jeans or over leggings. Either way, they looked good. And they added more than an inch to my height because of the platform and some heel. They had fake fur bands that I could put atop of them wearing with leggings.

Another week I got a duffel coat. It was long and had a hood and detachable red tartan linen. It was snug but otherwise, its sleeves were a little longer than needed so there was a reserve for my growth spurt. It was heavy and that’s its only con.

But I didn’t get the pantsuit. The sales lady said she would put it away if there would be any. I could get the suit coat only. There was one that fitted but it had buttons on the wrong side.

 

 

Ozzie and his family were attending the same church as my family. That’s what we were attending when and if we had time. We went there at greater holidays like Christmas and Easter. During Christmas season there was a fir decorated in the church. Kids were showing what they’d learned during Christmas Eve service. Then the priest was handing them presents. As Cindy and I were younger we did the same. Usually, we sang in church ensemble. But a few years ago we had more time to attend the church every Sunday. And we practiced with other kids after the service.

Ozzie’s dad didn’t complain. He said he was ok with it and offered some money if costumes were needed. I didn’t know at the moment what it will be so I didn’t take the money. We browsed through youtube listening to various Christmas songs and nursery rhymes. We settled on ‘The little drummer boy’.

The melody is simple. The words are easy to learn. We practiced all weekend. I had come to them on Wednesday after school and we practiced a little more. The coming Saturday we had what to show for their dad and Ozzie.

We had another two weeks to polish the performance. My role was to help girls mouthing the words if they would forget or if they would be shy.

 

 

It was still a couple of weeks until Christmas when Cindy had brought a new dancing costume home. A year before their dancing group was a part of the cheer squad. They had the red-yellow-black cheer uniform. It was ok but it wasn’t pretty. The costume was different. It was a long-sleeved white leotard. Green and blue were the only colors but it looked like the gradient of them on white background. Without any glitter on it, Cindy was shimmering while moving in a new costume.

“Ari, would you be so dear to come to my school tomorrow after classes?” Cindy asked. “There will be our very first practice in new costumes…”

“And?” I asked. She did want something from me. They had stopped using the field behind our backyard for their practices. In early October the weather changed and they moved to the gym. She had never invited me to the practice at her school afterward.

“I… I want you to do my make-up,” she stammered.

Make-up for Cindy made sense. She was useless even to put lipstick on her lips. That’s no matter how many times mom and I had shown it to her.

“You will need another set of colors,” I said.

“Why? What’s wrong with what I have?” she wondered.

“Your old uniform is red-yellow-black. Red lipstick, red nails, and pinkish-grey shadows were ok. Now the color scheme is white-green-blue.”

“So what? It’s just make-up.”

It was so every time we were talking about something color related. Every time it was like the very first time. Cindy had no sense of color coordination.

“When your practice starts?” I asked.

“Two hours after classes.”

“There’s Walgreens on the way. It will do,” I offered. “I’ll buy it and bring your recipes.”

Cindy growled and rolled her eyes.

“Oh, you’re welcome dear,” I said and she stuck her tongue at me.

 

 

The next day after school I was shocked by so many choices of make-up items in a not very big store of Walgreens. It was much more than in Wal-Mart. There were present not only different kits by color tone. There were large kits of almost all colors and individual items. Add to this that all items were in three or four price categories. And those price categories were mixed. I almost made a fatal mistake when a sales lady approached me. She asked what I was looking for. I told her about new costumes and said I wanted a teal shadow with some gold or brass glitter. She offered me a few and I selected one. She was ready to ring it when I noticed a price tag on the backside of it. It read $86.00. I couldn’t spend so much. Cindy would never give me my money back. I said it to the saleslady.

She chuckled and put away what was too expensive. Some items were on sale. Among them was one which matched my color scheme. The last in my list was nail polish. No way could it be red or pink. I tried to memorize the costume in my mind and turned both to blue and green shades. There it was – the loveliest among all colors – turquoise. But its price was twelve. It was much above the price of other nail polish bottles. Most of them were two or three dollars for the bottle. I decided it would be my present for Cindy. I ringed it separately and wasn’t about to give her its recipe.

I’d spent almost an hour at Walgreens and I had to hurry to have some time for Cindy’s make-up. Nail polish needs two covers and they dry ten-fifteen minutes each.

I found Cindy and others already in costumes. I started with Cindy immediately. Their squad is arranged in four squares four girls in each. Vanessa, Eve and Ronnie were with Cindy. They asked to do their make-up too. I coated Cindy’s nails first and gave the nail polish to girls to do it by themselves. I was doing Cindy’s eyes and lips meanwhile. Then I put the second coat on her nails and did her lips. For lips, I took the contour and then filled with a transparent lip gloss. As I was finished with Cindy I did the same to the other three girls. We were done in a time when the boys’ basketball team finished their practice and left the gym for dancers.

I watched their dance routine while sitting in the bleachers. The new costumes looked oh so darling. My choice of make-up looked great. The other twelve girls were in what they had usually on for school. That was ruby lipstick, pink or red nails, a lot of black around their eyes.

After the practice, I was waiting for Cindy and girls at the window in front of the gym door.

“Hi,” I heard the voice from behind me. I turned around. It was Mrs. Reece, the coach.

“I like your make-up,” she said.

What? I wasn’t wearing any. Maybe I had painted myself with it accidentally. I touched my face in awe.

“Oh, no, not on you,” she chuckled. “Did you make Vanessa’s square?”

“Yes,” I replied.

“Will you show other girls how to do it?”

“Sure I will.”

“Will you next year attend this school?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“And you’ll join our squad then. Or do you like cheerleaders more?” Mrs. Reece inquired.

“No…”

“Have you other plans already?”

“No, but… I’m a boy,” I said.

“Like Cindy? It’s not a problem,” she said throwing her arms in the air. “You may stay a tomboy to the rest of your life.”

“Oh, no! I’m a boy, not a tomboy.”

“Boy? Don’t play a prank on me girl. You know, I’ll check it.”

It never happened to me this way. I was mistaken for the girl a few times like ‘Miss’ in the store or ‘Ladies’ when I was with Cindy. But it never was so aggressively. I was sure Mrs. Reece knew I was a boy and accepted me as I was. She saw me as a girl. What will she think about me after she gets to know the truth?

 

 

Two days before Christmas Eve I got my present. That’s I got a real dark grey almost black pantsuit from the thrift store for only eleven bucks. I had enough time to clean it for that disinfectant smell to disappear.

At Christmas Eve, I put my new suit on and through the backyard went to Ozzie’s home. I helped girls to get ready. They were already showered clean. I helped them both into white tights and dresses. The younger Melody had a red velvety dress while the older Erica – dark green. Both dresses looked the same except they were in different colors. Both dresses had white petticoats making the skirts puffy. I braided ribbons of the same shades of green and red in their hairs, green for Melody and red for Erica. This way they both matched each other. Black Mary-Jane’s and whites gloves followed for both. At last, I dabbed them both with the perfume I’d bought for this occasion. It was perfume for kids with ‘Frozen’ motives on the bottle.

Ozzie’s dad said he had to take picture of them with his camera. So they posed in the living room. Then they posed with Ozzie. Then I took the picture of all their family.

We came to the church a little early. We were in time to get places for girls and me in the first rows. The service started shortly. The lights were turned off and only the tree was lighted by the single star on its top. We all were singing “The silent night”. That was a real tearjerker. Good, it was dark. I didn’t want others to see I was crying.

Later after every other song or another step of liturgy more and more lights on the tree were turned on. When the service was over the whole tree was lit as well as big altar candles too. The priest ushered kids to the fir and the tremendous sack with gifts. The first as usual was the church kids’ ensemble. They played a piece of three wise men. Later there was a band of local polish community. They sang a couple of melodious Polish Christmas carols.

Then were Erica and Melody announced as Werner girls. I positioned them and then I knelt in front of them a little to the side to not obstruct their view. They were wonderful and all assembly was cheering and clapping afterward. They curtseyed as I had taught them. After they got their presents they returned proudly to their seats.

Cousins in arms 3(5) The Zinc

 

 

Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

Edited by Amanda Lynn and Rosemary.

 

People swear their vows on their birthdays or for New Years. I couldn’t wait for the New Year. The whole mistaking me for the girl thing was getting old, is why. I had to think about how to change myself for others to see a boy. I was spending a lot of time with girls Melody and Erica, but that was my job and I couldn’t abandon it. Or… There was a thing about me wearing Cindy’s hand-me-downs. Well, she’s a tomboy and a girl so there had to be girly germs that caused others to see me as a girl.

I had my own money now, and I decided to buy some stuff at Wal-Mart that wasn’t pre-owned by any girl before. I started with underwear. I wasn’t wearing Cindy’s underwear. That would be so gross! Our underwear was from the same big-pack though, and it could be girly.

I was rummaging through week-packs of underwear when a saleslady approached.

“May I help you?” she asked.

Well, she really could, but I was embarrassed by the idea of explaining to a stranger that I needed some underwear.

She saw my confusion, I guessed. “Can’t choose what you like?”

“I like plain white,” I said, “and I don’t want it to be girly.”

“Boy shorts then,” she stated.

“I think yes,” I agreed and settled for a week-pack.

“Something more?” the saleslady asked.

“Some socks?” I wasn’t sure about the right names. There’re some things that only girls wear, and I didn’t want to ask for something girly.

“Knee or ankle-high?”

“Knee-highs are for summer when legs are exposed, I guess,” I mused.

“Ankle-high then ; and what color? White?” she inquired.

“Aren’t white too dressy? What other colors do you have?”

“Some colors and even more patterns,” she said leading me to another rack.

It dawned to me then that all the socks were for kids. There were ponies and robots, unicorns and rockets on them.

“I’m not a kid. I’m almost fourteen,” I said to her. She looked at me funny.

“Mom says we, my sis and I, are late-bloomers,” I explained. To be mistaken for a kid was even more embarrassing than to be mistaken for a girl.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t want to embarrass you,” she said. “There are socks that have a denim pattern and they go well with jeans.”

“Those are ok I guess,” I agreed, “but I have olive and camo leggings and I need some socks to go with them too. Would a light-brown match?”

“Definitely,” she said.

I was about to turn to another department. Then the saleslady offered, “We have plain black leggings with fleece inside on sale. They are perfect for winter.”

I liked everything that was on sale, and mmediately after Christmas, there was a lot. T hose were things with seasonal motifs, however.. Who would wear a white sweater with red reindeers in the summer? But black leggings that were not worn by Cindy or mom before? And on sale! I simply couldn’t pass that up. I got some dark grey socks matching them as well.

Then I asked her about tees and sweaters. Wal-Mart isn’t the best place for fashion but it’s not expensive. I was looking for something good to wear to school. The things were almost all ok, but they had some slogans on them and I got the most neutral “Why not” and “Stay real”.

Talking about Christmas motifs. There were a dozen packs of headbands with miniature Santa’s hats attached. The bands were transparent and hats were some four inches, red, and with white fur trim. Nothing real, just some Chinese toy. The pack was twenty before Christmas and it was one dollar now. Why am I talking about it? There was a district competition for dance squads planned on before New Year. It could be some accent for Cindy’s teammates. I took two.

I didn’t want to seem like a freak to the saleslady for buying such a great amount of useless toys. I explained to her why I was doing it.

 

 

I went with Cindy to that aforementioned district competition. I wanted to see a show and I had headbands for the girls. Plus, I was here to help Cindy with her make-up – kind of her stylist. Girls’ coach, Mrs. Reece didn’t say anything, but looked at me sheepishly. I suspect she had checked on my gender now, or asked Cindy about it. The girls and Mrs. Reece liked the headbands with Santa hats and it was a very pertinent accent. This was the district competition not state and there were only three squads, and all were nominated as participants. I was mentioned in the final talk as a promising young make-up and costume artist and I got a certificate like all the other participants. The only flaw was that it was issued for Ms. Ariel Spencer.

I said then that starting New Year I’ll turn to more boyish activities.

“Like what?” Mrs. Reece asked.

“Cross country most likely,” I replied.

“Girls don’t run cross country in our school,” she countered.

“I’m not a girl!” I retorted.

 

 

I wasn’t joking about cross country. I’d considered seriously what team to join in high school. If I was on the team I wouldn’t need PE class, and could avoid teasing because of my size. Then there was a money problem. Uniforms were provided by the school. The gear for practices was only for bigger teams. There was basketball, baseball, or football, and maybe girls’ volleyball, but to get onto those teams, one had to be an excellent player. I wasn’t. Other teams practiced in what they had. If they wanted to be alike in uniforms, they had to buy or make them. – the same as the dancing squad. Another thing was the summer camp. Almost all athletes were attending summer camps for their sport. Boy, they’re expensive!

I had almost six months to practice to get on the team. Paths in the no-mans land behind the backyard were as good as it could get for cross country running. I could run from home to the interstate, then back to Falmouth drive, and then home. According to the pedometer on my phone, it was four thousand two hundred steps.

The winter was cold but without snow. That was good and bad. Without snow, I hadn’t had to shovel and babysitting was my only job. On the other hand, my running path was clean. Running wasn’t as easy as I’d thought. I was panting heavily getting to the interstate. And that’s onlyone-fourth of the distance. I guessed it’s only in the beginning that it would be hard, and later would be better. It wasn’t.

January wasn’t a nice month. It was cold, dark, and gray. My younger brother, Martin, the one who had Cerebral Palsy, was diagnosed with diabetes. Besides being dangerous, it meant even more expenses, and more time around home. Mom was getting all the groceries, but my duty was getting everything we needed from the pharmacy. I had a special debit card and the lady there, Ms. Tyler, knew me. We got the gadget to measure blood sugar for free, but we had to buy strips that go with it. Oh my, they were expensive! It was good I didn’t have to pay cash for all the pills and supplies. I would be afraid to carry so much money around.

Doc said Martin’s diabetes could be caused by some genes. In other words, Cindy and I were at risk too. We both went through a bunch of tests. Cindy was ok and I was at risk. My insulin level was too low. It wasn’t something serious yet but it could cause low weight and low stamina, like panting while running. Cindy and I were prescribed a lot of vitamins. Not those that come in one enormous pill but individuals. I got zinc to improve my insulin.

At the same time, we found out that Cindy’s friend from school got pregnant. She wasn’t on the dance squad but she was a tomboy like Cindy. Mom went ballistic because she was sure tomboyishness was the best protection. It wasn’t enough. Mom got a birth control prescription for Cindy. She added it to an already tremendous pile of prescriptions I had to take to a pharmacy.

“Don’t forget birth control for your sis,” mom said when I was leaving.

At the pharmacy, I handed all prescriptions to Ms. Tyler. She said she’d fill them for a year because there was a great bulk discount. The pile of prescriptions was converted into a pile of boxes and bottles. I was about to sweep the card when she asked, “Hadn’t your mom asked for something else?”

“Only birth control for sis,” I replied on autopilot.

Ms. Tyler sighed and added another bottle to the pile. She took two cardboard boxes. One marked Cindy and another Ariel. She filled them with bottles and boxes.

“Take one pill each daily, and it’s better in the morning with your breakfast,” Ms. Tyler explained. “The zinc is in solution. Take three drops of it in the glass of water in the morning and before bedtime.”

I had to get used to taking a handful of pills every morning. Those were all vitamins but I felt sick every time I swallowed them.

 

 

January ended with a tremendous snowfall. It seemed like compensation for the snowless winter before. I couldn’t run because of the snow and because I had my hands full with my job. I was shoveling the snow twice a day. The first time was in the morning as early as at five o’clock. The next time was after school, somewhere about threeish. The snow shoveling was interfering with babysitting. I’d skipped two weekends of shoveling. Then some people decided for another boy to clean their driveways. Not a big loss. I was getting much more babysitting and I couldn’t afford to quit, because of a temporary snow job.

In March, it wasn’t snowing anymore but my running path was still in snow and mud. I was forced to run the streets. There I met two girls running in the mornings. They were ninth-graders – Shauna and Julie from Cindy’s school. They helped me a lot explaining the tactics of a long-distance run. I thought there were none before. I was simply running as fast as I could and was exhausted quickly. They helped me to improve my running habits, but I was still panting heavily after the run and so were Julie and Shauna.

 

 

The weather was getting warmer, and my cross country track was already dry. I switched to it and was running in solitude again.

Then one morning a strange thing happened. It started raining during my morning run and I returned home earlier than usual. At home, I met dad before he left for his job. Don’t laugh! Dad’s working a lot. On Saturdays, he does some home repairs, and on Sundays he sleeps in. It’s not his fault we don’t see him much around home. So, he was getting ready to leave and noticed me coming home.

“Why don’t you run on the street like the other kids? Isn’t your running path too dirty?” he asked.

“I’m practicing for cross-country.”

“Oh, I see. Do you know that running isn’t enough for cross-country?”

“Why? ”

“To avoid tripping you need to improve your balance and flexibility. Start practicing jumps, tricking, and stretches. Ask for summer gym classes at school.”

Cousins in arms 4(5) The trade

 

 

Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

Edited by Amanda Lynn and Rosemary.

 

I was afraid that summer gym classes were for jocks, like those who tormented me at school for not being man enough to their way of thinking. Thankfully most of the other kids were like me, and few were overweight. The coach wasn’t from my school and he wasn’t so demanding. No, sorry. He was demanding and patient but he wasn’t cruel.

Otherwise, my summer went as usual. On weekends I was babysitting, and on weekdays I was practicing, doing home chores, reading summer assignments, and running.

When I had some free time and, in the mood, I was practicing make-up. I considered taking drama classes in high school and it was mostly the stage make-up I was working on. Like to make me look older or to look like a girl or like a boy. Well, the last part didn’t usually work. But otherwise, I could make myself look like an old man and if I could manage to change my voice, I could pass as one.

 

 

The summer was over and I got to go to the same high school as Cindy. That’s Casco Bay High School, another fifteen minutes on foot from home compared to the junior high.

Try-outs for athletic teams were a week before Labor Day. I was assigned to the cross country team with another freshman guy. There was some forest framed by the railway and Delaware Court, with good running paths. The only problem was there were no hills. Our practice wasn’t only running. The complex gymnastic exercises helped to develop muscles and stamina. As a member of the school athletic team, I was excused from regular gym classes. I had time to do my homework in the study hall. I couldn’t hide from all the bullies in the school. But I could avoid the most vulnerable situations in the locker-room.

 

 

Good things didn’t last long. It happened. My grandparents got into a car accident.

Well, there’s some background story.

My mom’s parents, Matthew and Victoria had a big house not far away from us. That’s in Falmouth, on the same street as Falmouth High School. The house had two stories, with enough rooms for my mom with her two brothers and another two bedrooms for guests. Mom’s eldest brother, Tony lived in Houston and the younger one in Atlanta, so there was enough room for grandparents and our whole family, but the problem was my dad. He said a man couldn’t live at his in-laws’ home.

Matthew and Victoria weren’t very old. They both were somewhere around sixty, or maybe a little more. When they got into the car accident, Matthew’s intestines were injured badly, and he had to stay in the hospital for who knew how long. Victoria’s right arm and wrist were broken and she needed help for everyday activities. She couldn’t come to our home because we didn’t have enough room. Cindy and I shared the same bedroom. Our spaces were separated by the curtain hanging from the ceiling.

One of us, Cindy or I, had to go and live with granny Victoria and eventually attend Falmouth High School. Cindy said, “No.”

I had two possibilities. I could go willingly or reluctantly, but I had to go to granny’s place no matter what.

Mom arranged my transfer to the new school and I reported to the school office.

“Ariel…” I started to introduce myself to the woman in her early fifties behind the desk. The nameplate on the desk said, Ms. L. Lewis.

“Oh, I know,” she motioned her hand, dismissing my introduction, “Ariel Werner. Welcome to Falmouth High.”

“I’m Ariel Spencer, not Werner,” I corrected Ms. Lewis.

“Oh? I remember you were introduced as one of Werner girls in the church.”

“Those little ones are Werner. I’m their babysitter and I’m a boy.”

“As you wish,” she said. “Our Principal Mr. Badalament is waiting for you. Address all questions to him.”

I was ushered into the principal’s office. Guess what? The principal was that same teacher who announced me as Ray’s date at the dance party last Halloween.

 

 

“We have a little problem here,” the principal started. “Your papers and records say you’re the boy.”

“It’s true, I am,” I confirmed.

“There are some rules to follow, and there are certain procedures we can’t ignore. Our district and school board are maybe a little conservative, not as liberal as in the city. I can’t allow you to use the boys’ locker-rooms and boys’ bathrooms. I understand you don’t want to be with other girls. We have two gender-neutral bathrooms, one on each floor. For the gym, you’ll change in the coach’s office. We have another two transgendered students here and they follow the same rules.”

That was it. I was a boy because I was a boy. At the same time, I was the girl pretending to be a boy.

At home, that’s my granny’s home, things weren’t much better. I told granny that I was mistaken for a transgendered girl.

She just chuckled and replied, “You are too pretty to be a tomboy. I don’t even think of you being a boy.”

What could I say or do? I rolled my eyes for the answer.

“Just kidding, dear,” granny said. “I know who you are. I remember you telling me about bullying in another school. Take it as a protection. Now any bullying would be treated as a hate crime. Accept this situation as a gift of fate.”

The time will come maybe this year or next or even two years later. Puberty will eventually come into my life. I’ll be just another boy, a real boy, and not a girly boy or the girl pretending to be a boy. Then maybe granny’s right. I had to stay calm and enjoy life.

 

 

That wasn’t the only thing fate had in store for me. The second floor’s heating and water supply were disconnected, and I was given Mom’s former room on the first floor. The room was decorated in pastel lavender, and there were still her stuffed animals, books, trophies, posters, and her vanity with a mirror.

Another thing that Granny was providing me with was an allowance I didn’t have at home. At home, dad didn’t allow Cindy and me to get money from our grandparents in any form.

My allowance now was the same as the money I was getting for babysitting. I could abandon those kids, but I felt it would not be fair.

There were some changes in my babysitting routine. I was taking Ozzie’s little sisters, Erica and Melody, to Granny’s place for weekends as I couldn’t leave her alone all day. Her place was even big enough for the kids to stay overnight when needed.

Granny’s house was on the same street as my new school, something about five minutes away on foot. All three Falmouth schools shared the same campus. It turned out to be more convenient for me to take Erica and Melody from school on Fridays. I would bring them to Granny’s place and then bring them back to school on Monday morning.

Then some little problem arose when girls started calling me ‘Mommy’. I tried to correct them but it didn’t help. Both Ozzie and his dad said to ignore it. They said kids would outgrow it.

I could ignore kids' mistakes and other misunderstandings as minor.

My hair was growing long, and before Dad was taking Cindy and me to his barber every once in a while, for a kind of a model haircut. He paid twenty for all three and that was with a generous tip. Last summer, that barber retired, and we hadn't anywhere to go for a cheap haircut anymore. I wasn’t ready to pay forty or more for a simple haircut every month. It was already the fourth month since my last one, and I had my hair with parting over the left eye, so bangs were always falling over my right eye. Granny said it looked kind of cute.

Another minor problem was my pajamas or rather, a lack of them. For the night I was wearing boxers and Dad’s old tee. I thought who would see me in it? But then Granny was calling for my help in the middle of one night and she saw how I was dressed. She offered two possibilities. One was to wear my mom’s flannel nightshirt, which was thick, warm, down to my ankles, and I could stay in it without underwear. Or two, I could wear my mom’s pajamas with rainbow ponies on the top. My third option was I could go and buy something for myself, but again, I was reluctant to spend money on something I already had.

Yet another misunderstanding was a bicycle with a basket I got as a present from Granny’s neighbor. The bike… Well, the bike was light lavender and female in shape, but I needed it for grocery shopping. Granny couldn’t go shopping. Her car was in the garage but her arm was broken. My mom couldn’t either because she was with Martin, and with me living with Granny, all the shopping was done by Cindy, and Cindy would never do a thing beyond what she had to do.

I was living separately but was still helping mom with some heavy grocery shopping like cleaners for home and laundry. Bulk meal items like potatoes, flour, pasta, etc were still my duty also, but Cindy was shopping for veggies and meat. With a bike, I could help mom a lot when the weather was good.

 

 

I was in the mall for the quick run. Melody needed some supplies for her art class and I planned to be there for no more than ten minutes. I got everything I needed even quicker and was heading to the exit when on my right I saw a poster. “Hot offer. Crew cut. Only $5. Today only.”

It could be what I needed. The crew cut wasn’t completely bald. My hair was constantly getting into my eyes and a haircut was number one on my ‘to do’ list.

“What can I help you with, miss?” the lady behind the counter inquired. I was here to get rid of that ‘miss’ thing. I didn’t say that.

“Is your offer on that poster still valid?”

“Yes… Yes, it is. But it’s a real crew cut. You know no shampooing, no modeling…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s ok with me.”

“I see your hair is so beautiful and thick. It’s kind of a crime to cut it all off. You know it won’t grow back in a week.”

“Yeah, I know… I know. Let’s do it now, ok?”

“Well, this way miss, Michelle will take you from here.”

It was probably the only time when the salon was occupied by predominantly male clientele. Michelle led me to her station and in two minutes it was over with a pile of my hair on the floor.

I thought previously it would be kind of a relief to get rid of all that hair. It wasn’t.

 

 

“Ari? Is that you? What happened? What happened to your hair? It was so beautiful…” Granny couldn’t believe I cut my hair off.

“It will take some time to get used to your bald head,” she stated.

“I’m not bald,” I complained.

“It’s not hair either, kind of the patch of short fur on the top of your head.”

“I started to like it already,” I said.

“You may be mistaken for a boy now,” Granny said with a giggle.

 

 

Now with a short haircut, I felt more confident. I was treated more like a boy by Ray and his friends. I could have done that haircut earlier. On the other hand, the hair length was irrelevant compared to other things happening in my life.

Grandfather was in the hospital after the car accident with his intestines injured. Doctors were ready to release him to go home when trauma-induced pancreatitis started. Grandfather fell into a coma two days later and passed away another three days after that. We lost him just when everything seemed to getting better.

Then there was that bitter guilt – it was the guilt that said I wasn’t visiting him enough. In five weeks, I was in the hospital only three times. Granny had a car but with her hand injured she couldn’t drive, so we were taking the bus to Portland, and then another one to the hospital. On weekends I had to babysit. Anyway, we were expecting him out of the hospital soon, only not this way… I know that’s only an excuse, but Matthew was my only living grandfather and I was his oldest grandson.

We were shocked first and then were busy with the funeral and other things. Then another disaster struck.

My younger brother Martin dropped into a hypoglycemic coma and didn’t come back. With all that mayhem around, he tried to be useful and injected himself six units of insulin. He mismatched dispensers though. He used the rapid formula insulin instead of prolonged-release insulin. With Martin suffering a cerebral palsy it was very hard to notice. He was gone the same night.

“Bad news comes in threes,” stated Ozzie. I was waiting for the third disaster to happen now.

Cousins in arms 5(5) The bell rang

 

 

Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

Edited by Amanda Lynn and Rosemary.

 

I lived at Granny’s place after Grandfather and my brother, Martin, passed away. Granny’s arm after the car accident healed completely. But her wrist wasn’t fully functional and it never would be. That was the main reason I stayed with her. Things were getting better at home, as mom didn’t need to stay there and could return to her job as a dental technician.

Cindy’s puberty started at last. She got all the feminine forms most of her friends already sported. I was the next on puberty’s visiting list, but there were still no signs of puberty in my appearance.

It was one year later, when Cindy was a senior, that Dad agreed finally to move to Granny’s home after Cindy graduated. That was a great relief for me and Granny. I could graduate from the high school I was attending now. At the same time, Granny wouldn’t be left alone.

I still babysat Ozzie’s sisters, Erica and Melody. Melody was already eight and Erica started elementary school that year. Ozzie was dating and partying, but he worked on weekends. That’s why I was spending more and more time with the girls this year.

 

 

I was coming home regularly, visiting with my rents and sis. I enjoyed the time with them and I liked to help. It was my family and my real home. There I was, helping mom and Cindy with laundry - a real mega-load. We were busy with everything, chatting, and having fun.

Then dad came home. “Oh, how nice to see all Spencer girls together.”

Mom and Cindy broke into a fit of giggles. Me? I rolled my eyes.

It was happening more and more often. A few times, first mom, then dad tried to start a conversation about the entire boy-girl thing, but there was nothing to talk about. I never tried to position myself as a girl. On the contrary, I always emphasized the point I was a boy.

I was waiting for puberty to come and it started eventually. My voice broke. First I thought it was kind of a cold. But it wasn’t and Doc said it was puberty. All other changes had to start. My voice recovered and I wasn’t kid soprano anymore. It was determined as a mezzo-soprano, not a very manly kind of voice. I then got underarm and pubic hair, but there wasn’t much of it. The doctor inspected me again. He ran some tests and declared that my puberty was over. Some minor changes might take place in the future, but not much of it. The most important thing was I’d got my growth spurt up to five-seven. I was now almost as tall as Cindy - almost still, and it was unfair for my sis to be taller than me.

 

 

After my puberty spurt, I expected to not be confused as a girl anymore. I allowed myself some relaxation and had to pay for it immediately. As I was growing I needed some new clothes and I bought running shorts for PE as they were part of the uniform. Boys’ running shorts are kind of down to the middle of the thigh and their material was a bit coarse. I bought my shorts as a three-pack of black, navy, and olive in size ‘S’.

They were spandex short shorts hugging my hips tightly and concealing my boy bits. Well… Those bits weren’t as big as I wanted them to be. Spandex made them almost invisible. Especially after I tucked my dick down and balls popped into some cavity. Why did they do that? It was too small to be shown. At five-seven I wasn’t a little kid anymore and male bits should have been bigger.

Other boys were looking funny at me during gym class. As I was changing in the office they didn’t know how big the parts I was hiding were. As I found out later, most of them thought there wasn’t anything at all.

 

 

Girls avoided me because I portrayed myself as a boy and not them. Boys were curious about me. I was a boy but I didn’t look like one. I didn’t act like one of them. My behavior was determined by the duties I had to fulfill. Like babysitting.

I was getting teary when exposed to cuteness, like puppies, or kittens, or babies. Mentally, I knew it was wrong for a boy to be teary. I couldn’t do anything with myself emotionally.

Ray was still my only friend at school. We were eating lunch at the same table. Ray’s companions there were his team-mates or a girl he was dating. Ruth Crammer was his latest girlfriend. The time was a week before spring break. Three of us were at the same table eating when Ray unexpectedly said, “I’ve asked Ruth to come with me to Saco rides. Kind of a date, you know…”

“That’s lovely,” I said.

“But there is a minor problem,” Ray offered and nudged Ruth.

“My mom will kill me if I don’t take Sarah,” Ruth explained. “Sarah is eight and I have to babysit her the entire spring break.”

“So…” I predicted what they wanted, but they had to say it.

“We want you to take care of Sarah,” Ray said, “while we enjoy each other.”

“Will you?” Ruth asked.

“I have Erica and Melody to babysit,” I said. “Can I take them with us?”

Ray and Ruth looked at each other grinning wide.

“Sure!” Ray said. “I’ll take my mom’s minivan.”

 

 

It was Wednesday morning when Ray picked all three of us up at Granny’s home. Ruth and Sarah were already in the car. Sarah and Melody were attending the same classes at Falmouth Elementary. Melody was very protective of her lil sister Erica, and Sarah soon adopted the role of aunt for Erica. Sarah was the shortest among those three despite being the eldest.

The ride to Saco wasn’t long and we were shortly dropped off in the Funtown parking lot. Ray and Ruth went to Old Orchard Beach pier and they said they’d pick us up at six.

I had enough time and money for almost all the rides. We had voted against the Excalibur Roller Coaster because of girls’ age. To tell the truth, I wasn’t excited about it myself.

After a few rides, we had some light snacks at the food court and went on with rides. We got a separate cradle in the Astrosphere. When we were leaving the ride and our heads still spinning, Sarah whispered into my ear, “I have to go.”

That could be no problem. Not only kids have to go from time to time. The problem was that Sarah looked pale and she was wobbly on her feet. I grabbed her in my arms and hurried to the nearest restrooms with Melody and Erica following me. I went to the ladies’ room because it was a safer environment for the kids and well, they were girls.

Unexpectedly there was a line of four women waiting for the stall.

“Ladies, please, we have an emergency here,” I pleaded and was ushered into the stall. As a boy, I wasn’t facing a problem to sit on a public toilet. Now I had a problem with the not sanitized seat. I put some toilet paper on the seat before letting Sarah sit down. I stayed with her in the stall as I wasn’t sure she would be able to clean herself because she was getting all wobbly. She did her deed and oh, it was loud and smelly. I helped her to clean up and before flushing, I inspected the result. It was something watery with small pieces of undigested food and no blood.

After we got out of the stall I helped her to wash her hands. When I was drying her hands with a paper towel Sarah suddenly puked. One young woman helped me to clean Sarah again.

“Don’t worry. It’s probably the three-day fever,” she said.

“She’s eight already,” I said. I remembered my brother Martin having a three-day fever. Mom said it was usually for kids up to three-four.

Then I called Ray. There was no other way than to interrupt his time with Ruth. I grabbed some paper towels and a couple of paper bags from the restroom. I was carrying Sarah in my arms and Melody with Erica were following me. My brother Martin felt sick very often. Mom carrying him in her arms or sitting with him in her lap was a relief for him.

We were waiting for Ray to arrive when Sarah puked again. It helped that I had those paper bags and towels. Ray showed up when I was finishing the cleanup.

The strange thing was, Ruth didn’t take Sarah from my arms. She stared at me kind of funny. Even stranger, she stayed with Ray in the front seat while I rode in the back with Sarah in my lap. It was against the rules but…

At Ruth’s home, the only thing she did was turn on the TV for Erica and Melody. I took Sarah to her room and my girls, despite the TV being turned on, followed me.

Something similar had happened to Erica a year ago, and Granny said what to do. This time I did the same. I made black tea with a lot of sugar and gave it to Sarah. It was everything I could do now.

“Haven’t you called your mom?” I asked Ruth. She looked sort of estranged from everything happening to Sarah.

“She’ll be home in a while.”

Some twenty minutes after Sarah had the tea she puked again. With the help of Erica and Melody, I cleaned her. I took her in my arms and sat down on the armchair instead of leaving Sarah on her bed. Sarah was probably very exhausted while she drifted to sleep. Melody turned the TV off and we were waiting for Sarah’s mom in silence.

 

 

Two days later girls insisted on visiting Sarah. She was getting better, but Ruth wasn’t. She had to babysit her sister and was extremely unhappy.

 

 

I met Ray and Ruth again after spring break. We were eating our lunch and I could sense that something was wrong between them. Was that my fault? I didn’t know. We’d almost finished when Ruth broke the silence.

“Why don’t you two go together? You seem to have so much in common,” Ruth offered.

“We are cousins, it’s why,” Ray retorted before I could say a word. Why did he say we were cousins? The only reason was I wasn’t a girl, “I’m a boy,” I blurted.

“Ah, this? I don’t understand you, Ari. You are more lady than any other girl I know in this school,” Ruth complained. “How distant cousins are you anyway?”

“We are cousins in arms,” Ray announced proudly.

“You have to be kidding! Is this some sort of game?” Ruth inquired.

“Our fathers are brothers in arms, that makes us cousins in arms,” Ray explained.

“It’s the very first time I hear an excuse so lame,” Ruth exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air. “Ray Samuel Fisher, I thought better of you!”

“What did I do wrong, Ruth? What are you talking about?”

“Will you do everything for Ray?” Ruth turned to me.

“Sure I will,” he was my friend, how it could be otherwise. I still couldn't follow Ruth’s thoughts.

“I got to know Ari more than two years ago at the Halloween dance party. She was your date. Even though she was around, you asked other girls to dance with you. That happened till the very end of the party, while she waited patiently. Because of you she denied herself and pretended to transition. So my answer to your question about Prom is ‘No’. You have a date already. Don’t ask for more or you may lose what you already have.”

Putting it mildly, I didn’t expect such a turn. And I was sure everyone at school saw me as a boy after I’d cut my hair and after my growth spurt.

“It’s your turn,” Ruth nudged Ray with her elbow.

“What turn?” Ray wondered.

“Oh boy! You’re so stupid sometimes. Ask Ari to the Prom, you silly boy.”

“Ariel, will you be my date to the Senior Prom this year?” Ray asked me.

“Do you mean it, Ray?” I pondered. “Or are you asking just to satisfy your friend?”

“Yes, I do, Ari.”

I noticed a bunch of students, mostly Ray’s friends, were watching us. Well… That wasn’t a proposal, Ray wasn’t asking for my hand. He was asking about Prom. I suddenly realized I was ok with it. That’s with being Ray’s date with all consequences like holding hands and dancing… What was I thinking? I was a boy. Was I …?

“Earth to Ariel,” Ruth interrupted my musing.

“Huh… Oh…” Why had it to be in such a public place?

“So?” Ray inquired, “or are you waiting for the bell to rescue you? You may say ‘No’ if you don’t want to,” he assured me.

“I want,” I said hastily, maybe a little too fast. “Yes, I will. I will be your date to Prom.”

“YES!” Ruth exclaimed, pumping her fist in the air. There was some hand clapping and there were some cheers.

Then the bell rang announcing the end of the lunch period.