The evening sun streamed through my curtains.
I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes.
I imagined that come tomorrow, all would be back to normal.
Mum had had her daughter for a day and that was enough…
I’d be a boy again!
Then I considered the contents of my drawers and wardrobe.
If it was just for a day we wouldn’t have taken all of my clothes to the charity shop.
I mourned the loss of all my things, now stored in boxes in the garage.
I loved my models and old action figures, my spaceships,
my books, my gadgets, and gizmos.
Now all I’ve got is knickers and nighties and dresses and…
I opened my eyes and looked toward my bookshelves.
It’s still light enough to read,
I figured, even with the curtains shut.
I carefully opened my duvet and as quietly as I could, crept across the floor, step by delicate step towards my bookshelf.
Grabbing my book, I crept back to bed and climbed in.
After straightening my nightie,
and pushing up my pillows,
I opened the book and resumed reading The All-Girls Detective Agency.
I didn’t get very far before the light began to fade.
I gave up reading and tucked the book under my pillow.
I closed my eyes and thought about Jenny; the girl from The Night Thief story.
I recalled the beginning when she spends her first night at the girls boarding school she’s been sent to.
She goes to bed complaining that her retched regulation nightie is all itchy and scratchy.
“It’s almost as bad as that retched uniform!”
I recalled her saying before the other girls in her dorm tell her to shush.
At least my nightie is soft and slidy, I thought as I drifted off to sleep.
No sooner had I fallen asleep
, I peeled my eyes open and saw my pink spotty duvet cover.
“So much for it all being a dream.”
I thought as I woke up under my girlie duvet wearing my girlie nightie.
I recalled slipping my book under my pillow but realizing it was no longer there I pushed myself up and looked around my room.
Mum must have been in whilst I slept as a skirt and blouse had been hung from my wardrobe door,
and my Adventure Book for Girls was back on the shelf.
The blouse was cream in color, slightly see-through, and far too frilly.
The skirt was deep red and looked far too short for comfort.
I’m not looking forward to wearing any of my new clothes,
but I’d hazard a guess I’d prefer most of them to that outfit.
I buried myself under my duvet and clamped my eyes shut…
I tried to convince myself that maybe if I woke up again it will all have been a dream, but knew it wouldn’t happen.
A good while later,
mum gently knocked on my door and entered.
She never used to enter my room in the morning,
but seemingly now I’m not a boy anymore,
she’s come to help me get dressed.
She watched over me as I fiddled with my bra, then passed me a white lace-trimmed vest.
“Do I have to wear a vest too?” I moaned.
Mum said I did as she removed the blouse from its hanger.
“Isn’t it pretty?” she asked.
If she’s asked if I liked it, or if it was nice,
I’d have said ‘no’…
but it is pretty…
far too pretty.
I gulped and nodded the slightest of nods,
knowing that no amount of protest would get me out of wearing it.
Mum began unfastening its buttons and asked me to get myself a pair of tights.
“Which ones?” I sheepishly asked as I had several pairs in my new ‘sock’ drawer.
Mum peered inside the drawer
“One of these would be nice,” she said, removing a three-pack;
one pink,
one white,
one cream pair,
each with a spotty pattern.
“Maybe these to match your blouse,” she suggested.
Thankfully it wasn’t the pink pair, so I reluctantly agreed.
Once she’d strapped my shoes on my feet she opened my wardrobe door,
on the inside of which is a full-length mirror so I could see myself.
My white lace-trimmed vest can be clearly seen through my cream blouse.
It has a pan collar, and short puffed sleeves, both trimmed with cream-colored lace.
It’s tucked into my deep red corduroy skirt making my waist appear far higher than it did in pants.
And thanks to the short skirt landing high on my thigh,
my legs look longer and thinner than ever.
On my feet is a pair of black Mary Jane shoes with a small heel.
Well… Mum says it’s small. To me it’s huge.
“All you need is some ribbon in your hair and you’ll be the prettiest girl on the street!”
mum announced as she took me downstairs.
Thankfully, it’s only 7 am and my brothers are still in bed.
Sitting at the kitchen table whilst my mother ties a white ribbon in my hair could be a whole lot worse!
Mum made me a slice of toast and told me once again how girls are supposed to eat.
“We don’t scoff as boys do,” she said.
“We take small bites and chew each mouthful properly.”
I had no idea a single slice of toast could last so long.
“What are we going to do today Mum?”
I reluctantly asked, hoping it didn’t involve going outside.
“Mummy.” she corrected
. “Girls your age call their mothers Mummy remember,” she said in a most patronizing tone.
“Not ‘Mum’ like boys do.”
I swallowed my pride and repeated my question.
“What are we going to do today… Mummy?”
“We’re going to visit the neighbors,” she said.
“They’re all very excited about meeting Sophie.”
“Have you told them already?” I asked as I realized she must have.
“Of course,” Mum replied.
“I can’t wait to show you off.”
Do you remember when I said I was glad that my brothers were still in bed when mum tied the ribbon in my hair?
Well, it got a whole lot worse!
When my brothers did emerge from their slumber I was sat at the kitchen table with Mum hovering over me,
wielding a pair of electric curling tongs and working her way around my head.
“I’m just making your sister look nice,” Mum said when they expressed their… horror, for want of a better word.
“You look even more like a girl today than you did yesterday!” Andrew spat.
“Shut up!” I sulked.
“Is ‘she’ going to dress like a girl for school tomorrow!” George asked.
“Because if he is… I’m not walking with him.”
“Me neither,” Andrew added.
“Now now boys. If you can’t be nice I’ll put ribbons and curls in your hair too.” Mum threatened.
“And no, Sophie won’t be going back to school until next term.”
“That’s not fair!” my brothers blurted in unison.
“How come he gets to skip school?” Andrew asked,
clearly feeling hard done by.
“She!” my mother corrected.
“Because it’s too close to the end of the term for Sophie to settle in.”
“Will she be dressing like a girl at high school?” George asked.
“Yes… but she’s going to Malham Hall instead of Broadoak Road.”
My brothers expressed their relief that I wouldn’t be going to the same school as them,
whilst throwing a few disdainful comments in my direction.
Since my mother continued to curl my hair throughout the exchange,
I had no choice but to sit there and take it.
“Boys!” Mother spat.
“If you two can’t start being nice to your sister, I’ll send you both to Malham Hall too.” she threatened.
“I’m not going there!” George spat.
“It’s a sissy school!”
“You’ll go wherever I send you young man,” Mum stated.
“And it’s not a sissy school… it’s a very good school.”
“Of course, it’s a sissy school… all the boys wear dresses,” Andrew claimed.
“And you’ll be one of them if you’re not careful…
and the same goes for you to George.” Mum told them before making them apologize to their ‘sister’.
I sat for a further fifteen minutes having my hair made even more curly than naturally is whilst my brothers sat scoffing toast.
Not once did mum tell them to ‘take small bites and chew each mouthful’ as I’m expected to do.
They kept glancing at me but also pretended I wasn’t there.
I can’t blame them for acting weird around me.
It must be strange having a sister all of a sudden.
My brothers began clearing their breakfast dishes away,
but just as our mother had done the previous evening,
she told the boys to leave their dishes as Sophie would tidy them up.
After tying a white ribbon in my hair and fastening her apron around me,
I cleared the table and washed the breakfast dishes whilst mum fussed and faffed around me,
repeatedly telling me how nice it is to finally have some help around the house.
After failing to convince my mother that it would be better if the girls on the street came to our house instead of me going there, and having my request to at least wear a coat over my horrendous outfit turned down, Mum led me out of the house and down the path.
It was a painful experience walking all the way down the street.
The bow on my head flapped in the breeze whilst my new tighter curls bounced off my skull.
The tights felt strange as the breeze caressed them and I feared my skirt might blow up.
“Do try to walk with more grace Sophie.” my mother said each time my heel scraped against the pavement.
“Sorry… it’s these heels.” I said.
“Well… just try to walk like a girl!” Mum impatiently told me.
After a moment she added. “I’m sorry I snapped Sophie…
I’m just so nervous.”
“You’re nervous!” I thought.
“How do you think I feel?” I internally grumbled as my heel struck and scraped the pavement once more.
“Sorry.” I meekly said.
We were nearing the end of the cul-de-sac which meant I’d soon be meeting my old friends as the new me.
“That’s OK Sophie…
I know you’re trying your best.” Mum said as she squeezed my hand reassuringly.
Not that it reassured me in the slightest as we approached Chloe and Clare Henson’s front door.
Mum rang the bell and we waited.
The Henson Twins; Clare and Chloe had been expecting ‘Sophie’ and gushed over ‘her’ when ‘she’ arrived.
Peter took their compliments with good grace but felt they were being so nice that he wondered if it was genuine or just plain teasing.
Thankfully we didn’t stay at the Henson’s for too long.
I was glad to get out of there. Mum led me a few doors down to the next household.
Sally was a little less gushing and a lot more sheepish,
but nice nonetheless.
I empathized with her obvious discomfort.
One day I’m a boy called Peter and the next I’m supposed to be a girl called Sophie…
but everyone knows I’m really a boy…
I’m the elephant in the room.
Sally’s mother suggested that we ‘girls’ sit in the parlor whilst she had a chat with my mother.
“So… what’s it like being a girl?” Sally asked.
“Weird,” I replied.
“Everyone keeps telling me how nice I look but I don’t feel nice in these clothes.”
Sally cast her eyes over my tights, my skirt, and my blouse.
“You do look very girlie,” she said.
“I didn’t know if your mum was being serious when she told us.”
“When did she tell you?” I enquired.
“Well, she rang and told us it was you yesterday evening…” Sally replied
. “But it was a few weeks ago when she told us that she’d decided to raise one of her boys as a girl,” she told me.
“When did you find out?”
“Yesterday,” I replied.
“I wish it was one of my brothers instead.” I moaned as I looked down at my skirt and tights.
“I bet you do.” Sally smiled.
“Are all of your clothes this prissy?” she asked.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Peter’s mother and Sally’s mother discuss his new role.
“Do you have to dress him quite so…” Sally’s mother asked.
“Girlie?” Peter’s mother replied. “Yes, I think I do.”
“Surely just a pair of girl’s jeans and a girlie top would suffice?” Sally’s mother asked.
Clearly, she feels Peter’s mother has gone a bit OTT with his attire.
“He’s supposed to be your daughter, not a doll!”
“Why can’t he be both?” Peter’s mother replied.
“I’m sure you’ve dressed Sally in clothes she feels are too prissy… all mothers have.”
“Well, yes… of course…. but don’t you think it’s better to ease him into all the prissy sissy stuff a bit more gently?” Sally’s mother suggested.
“On the contrary…
almost everything I’ve read suggests that dropping them in at the deep end is the best thing to do.”
Peter’s mother replied.
“After a week or two in wearing nice ‘prissy’ clothes, he’ll be more than happy to wear the more casual styles.”
Sally’s mother sighed. “Well, I suppose, since you put it that way.”
she cast Peter’s mother a reassuring smile.
“But I can’t help but worry about how embarrassed he must feel… it can’t be easy.”
“Nobody said it would be easy.” his mother replied.
“But so far it’s been a lot easier than I expected.” she smiled.
“Well don’t count your chickens…
he might be playing along for now but in a few days or a few weeks’ time,
the novelty may well wear off.”
“Maybe…
but according to all the literature I’ve read, petticoated boys become more and more accepting overtime…
the initial novelty soon becomes normality.” his mother replied.
