As I walked home from school on Monday afternoon, all I could think about was the prospect of wearing Peter’s school uniform again. I hoped to high heaven that my mother wouldn’t insist I wear it, but her first words after greeting me were “I’ve put your uniform out.”
“It’s not my uniform…” I gulped. “…it’s Sonia’s.”
“It’s yours until she grows into it.” Mother told me.
I tried to talk my way out of having to wear it, but it was futile. I sauntered up the stairs to find not only the tartan pinafore laid on my bed, but one of the white blouses like my brother wears and a pair of his white knee socks too. I immediately turned and began to whine, “Oh m…” but she was right behind me. I suggested that it would be better if I kept my own shirt on instead of ‘getting that dirty’, but my suggestion was dismissed.
“Do I have to wear these too?” I sulked, picking up the white knee socks in a way that would suggest they were in some way contaminated.
“Yes.” Mother replied.
“Can’t I wear tights instead?” I asked. It may sound strange that as a boy, I’m asking to wear tights instead. But tights are plain and warm… these knee socks have those horrible patterns up the sides and being as white as the driven snow, look a lot more girlie.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I want you in knee socks.” Mother replied.
“But I’ll be cold.” I claimed.
“Nonsense.” Mother grinned. “You’re not going out anywhere.” she added.
“But they’re too girlie!” I whined.
Mother was having none of it, so reluctantly I changed into the blouse and pinafore before rolling the girlie white socks up my legs.
“You’ve got to make sure the pattern is nice and straight.” she said, prompting me to twist them this way and that until the pattern was indeed nice and straight. From beneath my bed, Mother removed a white box and said “I went shopping today.”
I gulped as she removed the lid. I can’t say I was surprised when she revealed a pair of shoes identical to those my brother wears for school. “Oh… do I have to wear girl’s shoes too?”
“Yes.”
“But why?”
“Because boy’s shoes won’t look nice with your pinafore.” Mother said as she smoothed the skirt section of ‘my’ pinafore over my lap. “There’s no point dressing like a girl if you don’t look nice.”
“Well don’t dress me like a girl then.” I moaned.
“Oh for goodness sake Andrew!” Mother sighed as she picked up my foot and slipped one of the shoes onto it. “Vincent dresses like a girl all day every day, in and out of the house and you’re complaining about the occasional hour.” she said as she fastened the buckle. It wasn’t often she used his boy name, but when she did, she was being deadly serious. “You’re supposed to be supporting your sister and showing her a bit of solidarity but all you can do is whine and moan and sulk about it.” she told me as she fastened the other shoe around my foot. I said nothing. I could have kicked either of my feet out of her hands but I didn’t. I just sat there and let her fasten the Mary Jane’s to my feet as she ranted. Once they were on didn’t know what to do… I just sat as if frozen on the edge of my bed. “Well stand up, let’s have a look.”
“These feel weird.” I said as I stood up in them. I looked down and all I could see was a girl.
“Heels do feel strange at first.” Mother said as she looked me up and down. “Just be careful running up and down the stairs in them.” she said.
“I don’t think I’ll be running anywhere in these.” I replied.
Mother looked me up and down and cast me a broad grin. “Come on… the sooner you get on with your homework the sooner you’ll forget how nice you look.”
