We return indoors where refreshments have been made. Mrs Proctor hands out glasses of orange juice. “Thank you Mrs Proctor.” we say, except for Brian and Andrew who both address her as ‘Mummy’. My own mother hold a tray full of cup cakes. They address her as Mrs Jackson except for me, who calls her ‘Mum’.
“It’s a bit weird that you still call her Mummy.” Wendy says to Brian as we chomp into our snack.
“She doesn’t like being called ‘Mum’.” Brian replied, glancing at me.
“Is it true that you wear dresses every Sunday?” she asked. Brian gulped and nodded. “Why?” Wendy asked.
Brian shrugged. “’coz she likes us to.” he bluntly replied. Ever inquisitive, Wendy asked if they’d always worn dresses on a Sunday. “Nah… it started about a year ago.” he replied. Again, Wendy asked why. “Because she thought I was turning into a bully.” Brian confessed.
“And was you?” Wendy asked, reminding him that he supposedly ‘second toughest in the juniors’.
“I dunno… maybe… I don’t think I was second toughest but I kinda felt that I had to live up to it.” he replied. “Now everybody thinks I’m the school sissy so I keep my head down.” he gulped.
“I don’t think you’re a sissy.” Paula said.
“Me neither.” a handful of us added. I pointed out that none of us (myself, Brian and Andrew) chose to be part of the parade and that we’re just going along with what our parents want. It quickly transpired that out of all of us, only Paula and Wendy nominated themselves. Janet and Amanda both expressed how they hate wearing dresses and were both coerced by their mothers in to doing something that girls should do. They’d rather go paint balling and get muddy than prance about in a pretty dress.
“You could always do both.” Paula suggested. “I don’t mean going paint balling wearing a pretty dress…” she grinned. “…I mean, you can be girlie and do things like paint balling too.”
“I quite like the idea of going paint balling in this.” Janet said, holding out her frock. “I’d never have to wear it again.
“It’s not exactly camouflage.” Brian dryly added.
“Yeah but the paint splats would look cool!”
Brown Owl sauntered over and asked if we were all OK, if we were looking forward to the parade, and what we were talking about. She grinned. “I think that’s a great idea… although I don’t think the ladies of the sewing circle would be too happy.” she collected our glasses and told us that it was almost time to leave. “Now make sure you all go to the toilet before we go.” she insisted.
The girls headed for the ladies and us boys headed for the gents. “How am I supposed to pee in this?” I asked when faced with a urinal.
“Like a girl.” Brian suggested as he headed to the cubicle.
“Oh… Brian.” I said, stopping him in his tracks. “Can you help, please?” I said. I couldn’t pee with my lacy gloves on and I can’t unfasten the buttons myself, so he unfastened them for me. “Is it horrible having to wear a dress every Sunday?” I asked as he fiddled with the single button.
“It’s OK.” he replied. “I hated it at first but… I just got used to it.” He unfastened the other button and said, “I tends to depend on the dress… some are better than others.” I thanked him and removed my gloves. He looked at his reflection and said “This isn’t so bad.”
“I prefer yours to mine.”
“Yeah… I hate my socks though.” he said. I looked down at his feet. He wears a pair of ivory Mary Jane’s with white ankle socks that feature a frilly lace trim around the ankle. “I’d have preferred tights.”
“I’d have preferred normal socks to these.” I said, lifting my dress up to my knees to reveal my thin white pop-socks.
Andrew exited the cubicle and Brian entered. Eventually it was my turn
