Our house is relatively close to the town centre so transport isn’t needed to get the shopping bags home. As we turned onto our street, we noticed Mark, Andrew’s brother, playing wallie with a few of his friends against the end terrace. “I hope that ball isn’t annoying Mr Bishop!” Mum said, addressing the group rather than Mark himself.

“He’s gone out.” Mark replied. Seeing kids kicking their football against the side of that house wasn’t unusual. Mr bishop didn’t mind if he was out and we knew no to do it if we know he’s inside. What was unusual was seeing Mark wearing a baby pink t-shirt, a little denim rara skirt and stripy leggings. One of his friends wore a casual cotton dress, but the others all wore normal boy clothes, and none of them seemed bothered in the least.

“Mark looks nice doesn’t he?” Mum said once we were well out of earshot.

“He looks OK I guess, but I wouldn’t like to dress like that.” I replied.

“So you keep telling me.” Mum grinned. “If every boy on this street started wearing skirts or dresses, you’d still be refusing to budge.”

Of course I’d refuse to budge. If boys want to wear these newfangled fashions, they can. Good luck to them. But I honestly can’t imagine me wanting to wear stuff like that. I cast my mind back to the boy in the store and his mother trying a school dress against him. I imagined being his age and having less say in what I wear than I do now. Thankfully I’m thirteen and a half and Mum lets me make my own choices for the most part.

“Hey up Pete!” Andrew’s familiar voice yelled and dragged me from my thoughts. “Mrs Jackson.” he added. “Is Mark down there?”

“Er… yeah.” I replied as I looked him up and down. “He’s playing wallie.” I informed him.

“You look nice Andrew.” my mother said. “How’s the hand?” she asked, noticing it was still in a bandage.

“OK.” he replied with a frown. “Apart from the fact I’ve been grounded for a month and aren’t allowed to wear pants unless I’m at school.” he added.

“Oh.” my mother cooed in empathy. “At least pants aren’t the only things boys can wear these days.” she smiled. “I keep wondering when Peter’s going to ask me to buy him a nice skirt or dress.”

“Oh mu-um.” I blushed. I knew she was teasing me, but still.

“’ere, I’d better get going.” Andrew said as he started off down the street. “See ya!”

“Bye Andrew.” My mother replied.

“See you.” I said as he trotted off towards where his brother was playing. He also wore a rara skirt, but his was cotton with flowers on. He also wore a pair of black tights, flat black ballet pumps and a blue top with a white lacy collar and long see-through sleeves. I said nothing as Mum and I walked the rest of the way to our house.

“Are you not tempted to try a skirt or frock now that your friends are wearing them?” Mum asked as we put the shopping away.

“Nah.” I replied in an instant. “Anyway, Andrew’s only wearing his because he’s been grounded.” I said, “For giving Patrick Thistle that black eye.” I added.