A hoard of butterflies erupted in my stomach as I descended the stairs. The pinafore dress felt really short and my knee socks didn’t give me anywhere near enough coverage. I imagined what it must be like to dress like this for school everyday and wondered if all the boys at Vincent’s school feel as self conscious as I do now. Vincent was due home any minute now and as much as I dread him seeing me, I’m fairly certain that he wont tease me.
The first thing Vincent said when he saw me was, “You’re wearing my uniform! Does that mean you’re coming to my school now?” He looked towards Mother for an answer.
God I hope not! I thought as Mother said, “No Sonia… unfortunately we can’t afford to send you both to Malham Hall.” Phew, I thought as Mother continued. “All of Andrew’s school pants are in the wash.” she said as she stood behind me and rested her hands on my shoulders. Mother then told Vincent that ‘my’ uniform is one of Vanessa’s old ones that he’s yet to grow into. “You don’t mind him borrowing it do you?” Mother asked her/him.
Vincent shook his head. “As long as he doesn’t wear it all the time!” he insisted in an attempt to discourage Mother. “I don’t want it to look old and tattered when it fits me.” he added.
Mother left us alone to study. I tried my best to concentrate on my books in order to avoid thinking about my clothing. But as my free hand frequently found my lap and its fingers nervously felt the texture of my woolly pinafore and bare lap, I spent more time thinking about my clothing than I did my homework. After a while Mother emerged from the utility room with a bundle of laundry. “Andrew would you mind taking these up to your room.” Mother said as she placed the pile on the table. “There’s some of Sonia’s there too… just pop them on her bed.”
I didn’t really want to handle Vincent’s frilly undies, but I didn’t want to get on my mother’s wrong side either. I put down my pen and picked up the bundle before taking it to my room. It was clear where Vincent’s undies stopped and mine started, and with hesitant hands I separated the pile and took my brother’s knickers and vests to his bedroom. I couldn’t bear to sleep in a room like this, I thought as my eyes panned around the wallpaper, peppered with ballerinas. I placed my brother’s pile of frilly underwear on his duvet, which today is pale blue for a change… with a huge picture of Cinderella on it!
Vincent was alone in the kitchen when I returned. He glanced up at me as I sat down, and said that I should smooth the skirt as I sit to stop it getting creased. “Sorry.” I gulped as I smoothed the skirt. “I hope Mother doesn’t make me wear this all the time.”
“I’d rather wear that than most of my dresses.” Vincent said. “It looks OK on you.”
“No it doesn’t… I look stupid.” I insisted. “I don’t like wearing my own school uniform and I certainly don’t like wearing yours.” I added as I looked down at my legs. “And these socks are really girlie.”
Vincent told me that Mother often makes him wear girlie knee socks when he’d rather not. “I prefer tights.” he said, kicking out his foot to show me his bottle green woolly school tights.
“I’d prefer those too.” I confessed.
“What’s that?” Mother asked as she entered with a bundle of bedding. Reluctantly I told her, and Mother suggested that she’ll ‘maybe’ let me wear tights on Monday, but reiterated that knee socks do look nicer.
“Can’t I wear my own uniform on Monday?” I moaned.
“Well you could.” Mother replied. “But you know how I like it when you both match.” she smiled.
“But!” Vincent said.
“It’ll hardly get tattered and ruined doing homework Sonia.” Mother replied as she began climbing the stairs.
“I bet she wouldn’t be doing this if Gregory was here.” I moaned as soon as we were alone again. “He’d stand up for me.”
“He didn’t stand up for me.” Vincent said. “I’m glad he’s not here.” he added.
This left me with the ill taste of guilt as I didn’t really stand up for my brother either. Both Gregory and I just laughed and giggled and gossiped and teased when Mother turned Vincent into Sonia. And if Gregory were here, I expect he’d treat me exactly the same way as we used to treat Vincent. “Sorry I was mean to you.” I confessed.
