Peters daydream was broken by his mother opening his door. “From now on, I want this door kept wide open.” She said. In her arms was a bundle of bedding, from which she grabbed a clean duvet cover, pillow case and sheet. She told him to change his bed, but noticing the clean bedding was equally pink and girlie, he began to moan. “Well what did you expect?” she asked dryly. “If pink and girlie is what you want, that’s exactly what you’re going to get.” she stated, putting the rest of the bedding on a shelf in his wardrobe. she paused for a moment looking at the rail, half full of dresses as a wry smile swept her face.
She left him alone and Peter removed the Princess duvet cover, cursing its every stitch. He pulled off the matching pillow case, followed by the sheet, then unfolded the clean bedding. His heart sank as the life sized print of a ballerina in a pink tutu was revealed. He pushed his door closed before battling to get the duvet inside its hateful cover. He swam deep inside, pushing the duvet into the corners. It’s pinkness was even more apparent from the inside and Peter wish beyond belief that he’d wake up to find it was all a dream. It wouldn’t be the first time.
He wrapped his mattress with a baby pink sheet before pushing his pillow into a very frilly baby pink pillowcase and dreaded resting his head on it. The thought repulsed him and he recoiled his head, catching a glance of his reflection in the ornate pink framed full length mirror. “At least this isn’t pink.” he thought as he looked at himself.
His attention was drawn to the sound of the door being pushed open and his mother’s scalding face. “I told you to keep this door wide open!” she spat, glancing around his room. “Admiring yourself are you?” she asked inquisitively, noticing his position in relation to his mirror.
He hung his head. “How long do I have do this for?” he sulked.
“Long enough to get used to it.” she replied without hesitation. “It’s nothing but knickers and dresses until you’ve learned your lesson young man!”
“But I have Mum.” he pleaded. “I won’t do it again, I promise!”
“On the contrary Peter… you will… all day, every day.” she told him. “Now think yourself lucky I’m not sending you to school in one of your sister’s spare skirts tomorrow…”
A shiver went down Peter’s spine at the suggestion. Actually being sent to school wearing the skirt he’d worn on many an occasion was both horrifying and thrilling.
“…but don’t think for one moment that I won’t tell your headmistress about this.”
Peter begged his mother not to tell her, but she insisted the headmistress deserves to be told the truth. He suggested she only tell her that he’d lied, and not to tell her about the clothes. She told him that she has to tell the headmistress everything, “Because if you step one foot out of line, she’ll need to know why you’re attending school dressed as a girl!