All being well, Friday should be their final day at St Urshalla’s School for Girls.
It all depends on the reports from their teachers, the formidable prefects who supervise their playtime activities, and feedback on their behavior at home too.
William wakes and washes before donning his knickers and training bra, followed by the blouse, tights, and plaid pinafore dress.
He goes down to the kitchen for breakfast and whilst his mother tends the toaster, he swiftly plaits his hair.
Meanwhile, Andrew sits huffing and puffing whilst his mother pulls his hair into two high bunches.
“They’re too tight,” he whines.
“Nonsense.” his mother retorts as she pulls a brush through them and makes sure his ribbons are perfect.
“You want to look nice… it should be your last day all being well.” she tells him.
“Stand up, let’s have a look at you.”
“Oh mum… stop fussing.” he moans as she faffs with his collar and straightens his tie.
She steps back and admires him, from his bouncy bunches to his shiny black shoes.
“Have you got everything?” she asked.
“The minibus should be here soon.”
“Err… I think so.” Andrew replied as he pushed his arms into his fitted burgundy blazer.
His mother opens his handbag and checks that there’s a clean pair of knickers, a spar pair of tights and some tissues inside.
“Thanks.” he meekly says as she hands it to him.
Ten minutes pass before the minibus pulls up outside.
His mother watches as he trots down the drive and climbs inside.
The sliding door shuts behind him.
“Is it your last day today Alison?” Timothy asked.
“I hope so.” Andrew replied. “When’s yours?” he asked.
“It was weeks ago.” Timothy said.
“I decided to stay at St Urhalla’s,” he added.
“What… permanently?!” Andrew quizzed.
Timothy nodded and explained that his mother was keen on continuing his petticoat regime after his suspension had ended, which meant he’d still have to wear the girl’s uniform at his old school.
“I didn’t think they were allowed to do that,” Andrew said.
“Depends on the school.” Timothy replied, before stating that he’d rather go to a school where all the boys are petticoated rather than being the only one.
“Makes sense.”
Roland boarded the bus and sat beside Andrew.
“Hiya Roland,” Andrew said.
“Girl names only boys.” the driver sternly said.
“You know the rules, Alison.”
“Sorry, Sir,” Andrew replied before humbly repeating his greeting to Roland, this time using his girl name.
The minibus trundled through the side streets, picking up boys here and there as it circumnavigated the town.
Andrew looked forward to everything to go back to normal; wearing his own clothes, waking up in his own room, no more bunches, no more tights, no more heels, no more supervised play, no more dance classes, and no more answering to Alice.
“Can’t say I’m gonna miss this place,” Andrew said to William as they entered the building.
Their heels clacked noisily on the parquet floor.
“I can’t say I’m really looking forward to going to back to Cromwell Road either,” William replied.
Their pleated knee-length pinafore dresses swished with every step.
“Still worried everyone will know?” Andrew asked.
His bunches bounced around his ears.
William nodded.
Andrew is a bit more optimistic and figures that since they’d never heard anything about boys being sent to a girl’s school when suspended until it happened to them, then the teachers and truant officers must be keeping it quiet.
“Maybe the threat of exposure is what’ll keep us on the straight and narrow when we go back?” Andrew suggested.
“Yeah maybe.” William replied.
“I’ll see you at lunch?” he asked.
“Sure.” Andrew replied. They went to their respective classes and waited for the register to be called.
“Here Miss.”
Andrew said as his name ‘Alison’ Smith was called.
He hates being called Alison, but has little choice but to answer to it since refusal would only mean having to spend even longer at St Urshalla’s… and that’s something he really doesn’t want, especially now his two-week suspension is almost over.
Having refused to answer to his ‘girl’ name during previous registrations (amongst other things), Roland has already accrued almost two additional weeks on top of his four-week suspension.
Today, however, he swallows his pride and answers as expected when his name, Roberta Hunter, is called.
He gulps and glances at William who offers a pursed yet reassuring smile.
At lunchtime, Andrew, William, and Roland share a table, along with Roland’s chaperones.
“I can’t wait for tomorrow!” Andrew says. “My own clothes, my own room… it’s gonna be bliss!”
Roland is unaware of Andrew’s predicament, who humbly explains that’s he’s been moved into his sister’s bedroom and has only her hand-me-downs to wear.
“I even have to sleep in a nightie!”
“Blimey!” Roland exclaimed.
“Well you’re not alone Alison.” one of the prefects sneered, claiming that half the boys at St Urshalla’s were in the same boat.
“I don’t know why you boys are so afraid of girl’s clothes anyway… after all, they’re just clothes.
“You wouldn’t understand,” William said. “…and it’s not the clothes I’m afraid of,” he stated. “It’s other people knowing.” he gulped, glancing at both Andrew and Roland.
They gulped too.
“We’ve got PE this afternoon,” Andrew said, changing the conversation.
“I hope it’s gymnastics again.” William enthused.
“It’s freezing playing netball in the yard.”
Sod’s Law kicked in and they played netball in the yard.
Roland shivered as the chilly October breeze bit into his bare legs.
“You’d think they’d let us wear tights!”
“Yeah.” William agreed.
“It’s weird wearing a skirt without them,” he said.
He cast his mind back to Sunday when he refused to wear a pair of his mother’s thin tights with his Sunday dress… so instead, she shaved his legs from ankle to hip.
The cotton fabric felt silky and smooth as it slid over his lap or swished against the backs of his knees.
Without a pair of tights, he felt half-naked then, but not as much as he does now.
The PE skirt is far far shorter than either his Sunday dress or their pinafore dresses.
Its knife-pleated hem is high on their thighs, leaving them completely exposed to below the knee.
Goose pimples pepper their legs as they’re selected into teams and don their bibs.
But they soon warm up when the game begins.
Roland is reluctant, to begin with.
He’s never played netball before so he’s no idea what to do or where to be.
He’s also concerned that his skirt will swish a little too much and expose his burgundy gym knickers.
That’s exactly what’s happening to all the others as they run and catch, stop or block, turn then leap.
The ball is hurled in his direction. His name is called and he swiftly catches it.
“Over here!” Charlotte shouts and Roland quickly lobs it into his hands.
Two passes later and Roland’s side has scored.
They cheer.
The captain congratulates Roland’s ‘excellent’ pass and a couple of teammates pat him on the back.
He begins to relax and by the end of the hour-long class, he gives his little bouncy skirt little thought.
Afterward, the PE teacher compliments Roland, telling him that he’s very good for a beginner and fills him with pride.
She turns to Andrew and William and tells them to report to the headteacher after they’ve got changed.
Both were half expecting this since it’s the end of their final day… and whilst they’re confident that they haven’t accrued any additional days, they can’t help but worry that they may have been.
They approach the door.
Their heels clack loudly on the hardwood floor.
The door opens before either of them has a chance to knock.
“You first Alison.” the headteacher says.
“Take a seat, Winifred.”
William scoops his skirt and sits as Andrew steps inside.
The door closes.
He can hear muffled voices but is unable to hear what’s being said.
After ten long minutes, the sound of footsteps in the corridor draw his attention away from the muffled voices.
“Mum.” he gulps as she comes into view.
She smiles and sits beside him, asking about his day which he describes as OK.
They sit in relative silence for a further five minutes.
William is bolt upright with his ankles and knees clamped together, his handbag rests on his lap.
His mother is far more relaxed.
The head teacher’s door opens and Andrew steps out accompanied by his mother and father.
William and his mother stand.
She introduces herself to Andrew’s parents before the headteacher asks her and ‘Winifred’ inside.
“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Andrew says.
Wayne nods before entering the office and the door closes behind him.
“Come on… let’s get you home.” Andrew’s father says.
“Can I get changed?”
Andrew enthusiastically asked as he stepped inside his home.
“You’ve got your homework to do first.” his mother said.
“Not really.” Andrew retorted.
Although he’d been given several homework assignments today, there’s no point doing them since he won’t be handing it in on Monday, he figured.
His parents tell him that it’s still a school day and rules are rules.
Alan tuts and sighs as he sits himself at the table.
“Here.” his mother says, grabbing a hairbrush.
“Let me redo your bunches.”
“Oh mum.” he whined.
“I don’t have to do my dance practice too do I?”
“You know you do Andrew.” his mother replied, reiterating that it’s still a school day and school rules apply. “…and talking of dance classes… you didn’t mention that you’d been invited to join the Saturday dance class.” she added.
“Because I don’t want to join the Saturday class.” Andrew replied.
“I just want everything to go back to normal… my own clothes, my own room, blah blah blah.”
“Well your father and I want to talk to you about that.” his mother replied.
She made him wait until he’d completed his homework before she and his father had a talk with him.
“…you can’t deny that this last two weeks has done you the world of good.” his mother said.
“I doubt you’ll be skipping class when you go back to Cromwell Road.” his dad added.
“I won’t.” Andrew replied.
His parents believed him.
“Can I move back into my room tonight?” he asked.
“Well…” his father began by explaining how he’s been no trouble at home since he was suspended from school.
“You’ve been doing your homework without moaning about it.
You’ve been helping your mother with the washing up.
You’ve been tidying up after yourself, going to bed on time…”
His mother eventually took over.
“We’re concerned that if everything goes back to normal, then you’ll go back to normal,” she told him.
“So we’ve decided that it’s best if you continue being petticoated at home…” she stated as Alan’s jaw dropped.
“…and you will be attending the Saturday dance class at St Urshalla’s.”
“Oh mum… that’s not fair,” Alan whined, before saying that he wanted to visit William tomorrow.
“You can visit him after your dance class.” his mother said. “
And you never know, William might also be there.”
“I doubt it.” Andrew muttered.
“Can’t I at least have some of my own clothes?” he asked.
“You’re better behaved when you’re wearing your sister’s clothes.” his father replied.
“Your dad’s right Andrew… but if you’re good, and I mean exceptionally good …we might let you wear some of your own clothes when you’re playing out with your friends.” his mother said.