Before Peter went to bed, his mother reminded him to get his PE kit ready. With a skirt and blouse hanging from the knobs on his wardrobe doors as he packed his PE kit into his pump bag, Peter frowned to himself. “They’ll probably have us playing netball or something.” he sighed. He’s fairly certain that he’ll be the only boy wearing a skirt whilst the other wear the PE skort. He dreaded the thought of it bouncing up and down as he leapt and jumped. Then he remembered the little shorts Paula had given him, and made sure they were packed too.
Yet again, the girl’s saw Peter’s PE skirt in a more positive light than the boys did. From the front, both garments were identical, with a wide flat panel and narrow knife please around the sides. It was only from the back that the difference between the skirt and skort was obvious. The skort doesn’t bounce up like Peter’s skirt does, but thankfully, he wears a little pair of burgundy shorts to preserve his modesty, just like the girls do.
On Thursday morning, Peter’s three pairs of white ankle socks were in his laundry basket, meaning he had no choice but to wear one of the pairs of white knee socks his mother had put in his drawer. He hoped he could get away with wearing them scrunched down around his ankles, but his mother insisted that he pull them up. Why he was so against wearing knee socks he wasn’t sure… they’re just another girlie accessory to an already girlie uniform. Maybe it’s the fact they are as white as the driven snow that bothers him. Plenty of other boys wear knee socks, but for the most part they wear grey or black ones. No one else seemed to notice that Peter wore girlie white knee socks with his girlie shoes and girlie skirt, but one thing Peter did notice is when one had begun to slip down more than the other… prompting him to intermittently re-align them throughout the day. On Friday evening after school, his mother noticed him straightening his knee socks and said that it was nice that he’s taking pride in his appearance. “Well I look stupid enough as it is.” Peter stated as he looked down at his attire. “I don’t want to look like a scruff-bag too.” he added.
When he changed out of his school uniform that evening, Peter was looking forward to two whole days of dressing like a boy should dress. On Saturday he met up wit a couple of pals who’d transferred to Central, and neither of them believed him at first when he confessed to having to wear his sister’s hand-me-down skirts rather than the shorts that the Ashford boys are supposed to wear. However he mentioned nothing about shaving his legs to them. They exchanged stories about their respective schools… Ashford’s the same as it was last term apart from the obvious, and the fact that boys are now in a definite minority, and the fifth form boys (currently exempt from the new uniform) have a bigger superiority complex than usual. On the other hand, Central Comprehensive is overcrowded with the teachers doing more crowd control than actual teaching, there’s nowhere near enough text books to go round, and in some classes, even chairs are in short supply! The school dinners are bland and the toilets are apparently filthy. On hearing that Central Comprehensive is less than ideal, Peter is somewhat relieved that he hadn’t been transferred too… but then again… attending Ashford is less than ideal too.
On Sunday afternoon, Peter’s mother asks him if he’s got any homework to do. “Only domestic science.” he replies.
“Didn’t you do that yesterday morning?” his mother asked.
“I loaded the washing machine put it through the dryer…” Peter stated, “…I just need to iron my blouses, and my skirts.” he gulped. Putting the word ‘my’ in front of words like ‘skirts’ and ‘blouses’ was a new and unnerving thing to say. Under the watchful eye of his mother, Peter pressed his own clothes for the first time in his life. “This is really hard!” he commented as he lined up the pleats of his skirts before pressing them.
“You’re doing a good job.” his mother said. “I’m chuffed to bits that laundering and ironing is one of your homework assignments rather than one of my chores.” she grinned. “Is it going to be every week?” she teased. Peter nodded as he carefully put the hot iron over the numerous pleats that he’d fastidiously lined up. “Really?” his mother asked.
“Yeah.” Peter half-heartedly replied as he clipped the skirt onto a hanger before placing the next on the ironing board. “Miss Taylor, the DS teacher said the skirts are a lot easier to iron than the culottes….” he said as he began lining up the many pleats. “…but I can’t see it.” he added. “They only have about six creases… these have got about fifty.” he sighed.
Once he’d finished his ironing, he asked his mother to sign his homework chitty, stating that Peter had loaded the washing machine, either hung it on the line or put it through a dryer and finally ironed it all. His mother ticked the boxes and signed her name. “I could get used to this.” she grinned as she gave him the slip of paper back.
Peter felt just as coy, shy and nervous as he did the previous Monday as he walked to school. He’d forgotten how the breeze felt as it caressed his legs, and having shaved them for the second time before bed last night, they felt smoother than ever. He hadn’t really noticed last week just how many of the first and second year boys also wore skirts. There was quite a lot of those girlie white knee socks with knitted patterns up the side, and some even had bunches or wore Alice bands in their hair! “At least I don’t have to dress ‘that’ girlie.” he thought as he walked through the school gates and headed to his form room.
“You shaved your legs again Jacko?” one of the boys in Peter’s class asked.
“Yeah.” Peter mournfully replied.
“Weirdo!” the boy teased.
Peter did feel a bit guilty for removing his leg hair, as if he’s betraying his gender. But looking at the other boys with their hairy legs emerging from their short culottes, Peter knew what he preferred.
“Wearing a skirt and not shaving his legs would be weirder.” one of the girls interjected. “They do look better.” she assured, casting Peter a smile as he made sure the tops of his knee socks were level.