“Well your grandmother does, of course… but as far as I know it’s just between us.” she smiled.

“And Judith. And Sarah.” I added.

“Yes and them too,” Mum said, but they’re not the type to gossip, she assured. “So have you any plans for half term?” she asked, “Anything you’d like to do?”

I glanced at my pale bare knees and short plaid skirt before looking at my mother and smiling. “I’d like to take this off.”

“And you will… eventually.” mum replied. She placed her hand on my knee and rubbed it lovingly. “Just a little while longer… please?” she pleaded before asking if there’s anything else.

“Well, I’d like to visit John & Michael, catch up with Andy… just hang out you know,” I replied. “But I’ve got a few homework assignments to do too.”

Mum made me a sandwich for lunch, and afterward, I was finally allowed to change out of my uniform! “Just don’t leave it screwed up on the floor.” Mum reminded me as I left.

Shoes, off. Blouse, off. Skirt, off. Socks, off. Knickers, off, Bra, off. I pulled on a pair of my own old undies for the first time in two months. You have no idea how much I’d missed wearing normal boy’s underwear… but they felt unfamiliar; too loose with bulky hems and thick fabric. I opened my wardrobe to get a pair of jeans and a top, and to my surprise saw a dress hanging inside. Just the one, and thankfully it was alongside all my own clothes. I pulled on my jeans & jumper and glanced in the mirror. It seemed strange having my legs covered up… not that I wasn’t happy to be wearing normal clothes again. I really was!

“Better now?” mum smiled as I entered the kitchen.

I grinned. “I’d forgotten what pants feel like,” I said as I ran my hand over the denim fabric. “Er…” I began as I sat. “There’s an er… dress… in my wardrobe.”

“Yes.” mum replied. “I bought it for you.”

“Why?”

“I thought you’d like it.” she replied. “After all these weeks in uniform, it’ll be nice wearing a dress for a change?”

“I dunno.” I gulped. “It’s nicer dressing like a boy for a change.”

“I’m sure it is.” mum said in a faux-empathetic voice that verged on patronizing. “But having a nice dress too won’t do any harm.”

“Do I have to wear it?” I asked.

“Well I didn’t buy it to look at.” mum smiled.

“I’ve never worn a dress before,” I stated fearfully. Why the prospect of wearing a dress scared me so much I don’t know. Even to me, it seemed daft seeing as I’ve dressed like a girl since the beginning of September.

“Well, there’s a first time for everything. And I’m sure you’ll look just as nice in a dress as you do your uniform.” mum assured.

“Hmm.” I replied, not committing myself one way or the other.

Some parents might think that sending a boy to a school like St. Ursula’s is cruel. But they’re just ignorant. As a mother who wants the best for her only child, the benefits of sending Peter to St Ursula’s leave little to be sniffed at. Of course, most boys would rather not dress the same as the girls given the choice, but petticoating is proven to be one of the best methods of passive discipline for adolescent boys, promoting self-awareness, self-pride, obedience, resilience, a good sense of routine and so on.

Puberty is a time of life when their hormones run riot. Their mood swings from boy to man and back again. They fight their inevitable anxieties with bravado and boisterous behavior, which often results in trouble. The uninformed might assume that putting a dose of femininity in the mix would make things worse, but feminizing adolescent males is an incredibly grounding experience for them… according to the literature.

Of course, I still had a few doubts when I dropped Peter off at St Ursula’s all those weeks ago; partly due to worrying if he’d adapt to petticoating or not, and partly due to the fact he’s never been away for more than a couple of days before. After eight weeks of boarding school and eight weeks of petticoating, he’s thankfully more or less the same boy I sent away.

“What?” Peter asked coyly as he noticed me staring at him.

“Nothing,” I replied. “It’s just nice to have you back… even if it is only for a week,” I said. “So… what do you want to do today?” I asked. “I’m sure you’ll want to catch up with your friends.”

“Yeah.” Peter enthusiastically replied. “But then again…” he added with less gusto, “…I don’t know what I’m going to tell them about school.”

“Just tell them everything apart from your uniform… and if they ask, a little white lie is OK under the circumstances,” I advised. “But you don’t have to feel ashamed of being petticoated… given the opportunity I’m sure your friends would grow to like it too.”

“Maybe… but I think I’d rather they didn’t find out,” he replied. “Can I ring them and see if they’re in?”

“Of course,” I said, fully understanding why he doesn’t want his friends to know the whole truth about boarding school. “You could wear your new dress,” I suggested with my tongue firmly in my cheek. He gave me one of those bemused looks, clearly unable to work out if I was being serious or not. “I was teasing Peter.” I grinned. “But if you do want to keep it secret, I think you should remove your make-up and your nail varnish.”

Peter opened his fingers and stared at his ten pale pink nails. “I’d forgotten about that!” he said, biting his bottom lip, dropping his jaw, and standing.

“I’ll get you some make-up wipes and nail varnish remover?” I offered.

“No it’s OK I’ve got some,” he said as he took hold of his handbag and opened the clasp. “Oh… there’s a form for you to sign,” he said as he removed an envelope and passed it to me.

“What’s this?” I asked as he removed a vanity mirror and a pack of make-up wipes.

“Just some form about me arriving home in uniform,” he replied. “And in make-up,” he added as he wiped off his lipstick.

I couldn’t help but smile. He seems so comfortable with the fact he has a handbag full of cosmetics. I turned my attention to the letter and read it. “Is this in case you wanted to change into your boy clothes as soon as you were out of sight of the school?” I asked. Peter nodded. “And did you?”

“Well, no… obviously.”

“I meant did you want to?”

“It had crossed my mind,” he admitted.

“Well I’m glad you didn’t.” mum said. “You looked so sweet when you got off the train.”

“I was nervous as hell,” he said as he began wiping away his mascara and eye-liner. “What if somebody saw me?”

“I’m sure lots of people saw you… but I’m sure they only saw a schoolgirl.”

“I meant someone I know… like Michael or John… someone who’d know I’m not really a girl.”

“You mean like Judith and Sarah?” I quizzed.

“Exactly,” he replied. “I’d forgotten about bumping into them! I hope they don’t tell anyone.”

“I wouldn’t worry. They don’t really know anyone we know.” I said. “And like I say, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of.” I told him.

Mum’s right I guess. But the idea of my friends knowing I dress like a girl; all day, every day, and admitting that it’s OK fills me with trepidation. “It’s not that I’m ashamed… they just wouldn’t understand if they knew,” I said to my mother.

“Well I suppose you’re right, they probably wouldn’t.” Mum agreed. “It’s still early days yet… maybe after a few more months…” she suggested.

“Yeah, I guess.” I checked my face in my vanity mirror and asked my mother to check I’d removed it all.

She took a long hard look at my face. “Yes, you look like a boy again. Let me see your nails,” she said. I held them out for her. “Very good.” she smiled. “Do you paint your toenails too?”

“Yeah, but they won’t see those,” I replied.

“I’d like to see them.” mum grinned.

I pulled of my sock and wiggled my five pink toenails. “We’re not supposed to do them but…” I said, feeling myself blush.

“But it’s nice having painted toes too.” mum grinned.

I nodded and smiled. She clearly felt she’d finished my sentence for me. But she hadn’t. I stopped myself from saying … but it’s something to do between getting ready for bed and going to bed. I replaced my sock and found my old trainers. It’s seems like ages since I’d tied a shoelace instead of fastening a buckle.

I hadn’t seen any of my old friends since the summer holidays. I looked forward to seeing them. I had so much to tell, so much to hide… actually with so much to hide, there wasn’t really much left to tell. I pressed the doorbell and Mrs Pierce answered. “Hello John… I haven’t seen you for a long time.”

“Hello, Mrs Pierce.” I said politely. “Is Michael or John in?”

“Yes. Come in,” she said with a smile. “How’s boarding school?”

“It’s good thanks,” I replied.

She called her sons, then looked at me, smiled, stared. then instantly made me nervous by saying I looked ‘nice’. I feared traces of make-up were still visible as my old friends came down the stairs, clearly pleased to see me. They both attend the local comprehensive school and filled me in with all the local gossip; Roger Gorman and John Briers had a fight, Gorman came off worst. Judy Rogers fell off her bike and broke her arm, so and so got detention in the first week… then they asked me about my school. “Is it like Hogwarts?”

“Not really… a bit… there is a heritage railway line nearby so there are steam trains running up and down the valley, and it’s in the middle of nowhere. Apart from Compton, there isn’t another village for miles”

“Sounds good,” John said. “Can you go on the steam trains?” he excitedly asked.

“Yeah, I came back on one today,” I said proudly, before visualizing just how I looked. “Only as far as Denbury though.”

“Wonderful,” John said.

They both fired questions at me, but none really required me to hide too much. “…but it’s weird coz it’s like being at school ‘all’ the time, and we’ve no chance of sneaking around the halls in the dead of night in our….” I stopped myself. “…there’s always a dorm master on night duty…. we even have to wear our uniforms on weekends too,” I admitted.

“No way!” Michael exclaimed. “Dorm master on night duty, uniforms all the time… that sounds like a prison!”

“’tis a bit,” I replied, before listing some of the more fun aspects of life at a boarding school. “There are bikes so we can go for rides at the weekends.. there’s a really big wood with some ace climbing trees… and the crag and the river, or watch the old trains on the heritage line… They do let us go quite far but yeah… it is a bit like returning to a prison camp of sorts… there’s a really strict curfew.” I added, hoping they wouldn’t ask what the consequences of breaking the curfew were.

“Sounds awful… I’d just get on a bike and keep pedaling ’til I reach Beckford if I was you.”

“You probably wouldn’t.” I thought. “Nah it’s not as bad as I make it sound… it’s just a boarding school so there are rules and a curfew.” I said.

“What are the bikes like?” John asked.

“Mountain bikes.” I lied. In reality, they’re all girl’s step-through bikes with three gears, a bell, and a basket on the front, but I’m not ready to admit that either. I also make up a lie about a twenty-foot climbing wall. They think a climbing wall at school would be cool and were clearly envious. I think a climbing wall at school would be awful since we all wear little skirts and frilly white knickers. I wish I’d never said anything. We pass the afternoon playing video games. They’re also envious that we have a Nintendo Wii in the rec room (the truth), but aren’t impressed with the selection of games we’re allowed as none of them involve shooting, stabbing, or fighting. Instead, we have the sports package, a few racing games, and adventure games, all non-violent and with an age rating no higher than seven and most aimed directly at girls… but I decided it was best to leave such details unsaid.

All in all… both Michael and James are glad they don’t attend my boarding school. They hate the idea of finishing school at 4 P M instead of 3 P M, and having a two-hour study period every evening from 6 P M to 8 P M… and compulsory church and Sunday school every week further puts them off. I doubt a thorough description of my uniform would sway their overall opinion. After a few hours, it’s time for me to return home for supper.

“Was it nice seeing Peter?” Mrs Pierce asked her sons after he’d left. “Is he enjoying boarding school? Is it like Hogwarts?” she asked.

They said he was. John mentioned the steam trains, and that it wasn’t at all like Hogwarts. Both agreed that it sounded boring and were glad they didn’t go.

“He seems different, doesn’t he? Very…. polite.” their mother added, but all the time thinking there was something else aside from his newfound manners.

“He said they have to wear their school uniform all the time, even at weekends,” Michael said.

“That’s quite common at boarding school.” his mother replied. “They are at school all the time.”

“It sounds awful,” John added.

“Well they are quite regimented… but he’ll be getting a better education than Beckford Comp can offer.”

“I’d still rather go to Beckford,” Michael said. His brother agreed.

“Good.” his mother smiled. “I couldn’t bear not seeing you for months at a time,” she said, tussling his hair lovingly.