At break, my sister Jane sought me out and asked how I was getting on. “Fine.” I replied. “History was really fun. What did you have?”
“Maths, then French.” she replied. “I’m worse at French than I thought.” she moaned.
“You’re not bad.” a girl who accompanied her said. “You know the basics.”
“Oh, this is Alice.” Jane said, referring to her chaperone I guess. “Alice this is my brother Mathew.”
“Oh hello.” Alice said. She seemed nice, and didn’t seem at all bothered that I’m dressed as a girl… but then again, all the boys are. Looking at them all chatting and socialising and being normal, I figured that maybe it isn’t as weird as I thought it would be… but it’s still quite weird. Especially the ones wearing short girlie hairstyles with headbands, bunches, clips or bobbles. Plenty of ‘normal’ boys (i.e. short boyish hair) also wore patterned knee socks similar to my own, but some wore those little ankle socks with lacy frills around the cuffs. In comparison to those, my pelerine socks don’t seem too bad now… although I’d rather wear plain white knee socks like my sister.
“So, what you got next?” Jane asked.
“Er…” I retrieved my timetable. “English.”
George found me shortly before the end of break bell rang and led me to the English class. He didn’t seem to have much to say for himself, giving short answers to anything I asked. English has never been my favourite subject and it still isn’t. I can’t see the point of learning about fiction when there’s so much real stuff to learn about. The fact that Mr Clarke seemed obsessed with Shakespeare didn’t help.
At lunchtime, I sat with my sister and a couple of her new friends whilst we ate our packed lunches. We chatted about where we came from and our old school, the things we could do in our spare time, why we moved house and so on. After lunch I had a double science class followed by maths then geography. As arranged, I met my sister at the school gates and we walked home.
“So how did your first day go?” she asked.
“OK I guess.” I replied. “It’d be better if I didn’t have to wear this though.” I added, gesturing to my short pleated plaid skirt and pale bare legs.
“Hmm.” Jane began. “Maybe not.” she said.
“How do you work that out?” I asked.
“Remember when Mother said that petticoated boys are less likely to be disruptive in class and less likely to bully other kids?”
“Yeeaah.” I replied with curious caution.
“Well… if it was a normal school…” she began, “…you might have been bullied because you’re new or maybe sat through classes that were constantly disrupted by boisterous pillocks.”
“Maybe.” I replied. “…and that’s a big maybe.” I added. “So… is Alice your chaperone?” I asked.
“Yeah.” Jane said. “She’s really nice…. and you got that boy… George?”
“Yeah… he’s a bit weird… hardly said a word all day.” I told her, before admitting that I thought he was a girl until his boy’s uniform registered.
“Maybe that why we wear different uniforms.”
“Yeah I guess.”
We arrived home and Mother was keen to know how we’d both got on. I told her about Miss O’Neill describing the history teacher as a ‘dragon’, and that she was the history teacher! Mother asked me how I found my uniform. “Well… I hate it but since everyone else wears the same, it’s not as bad as I’d expected.” I replied. “In fact, I’m gonna get changed.” I stated.
“Ah ah!” Mother said, stopping my exit. “Have you any homework?” she asked.
“Yeah.” I replied.
“Well the uniform stays on until it’s all done.” Mother replied. “And that goes for you too Jane.”
“Ohh.” my sister whined. “Can I at least take this off?” she asked, grabbing the little school tie she wears.
“I suppose.” Mother conceded before asking if either of us were hungry. Jane and I sat at the kitchen table and got on with our homework, then an hour or two later when Mother needed the space to prepare the evening meal, she sent us to our respective rooms. I had a bit of a moan because unlike my sister, I haven’t got a desk in my room . “There’s plenty of room to spread your books out on your bed.” Mother replied before mentioning something about squeezing a table into my small bedroom somehow.
Neither myself nor my sister had completed our assignments by the time supper was ready, meaning by the time we had finished and changed into our own clothes, it was almost 7.00pm. Mother had another task for us, and that was to make a copy of our timetables to put on the fridge door. “What for?” I asked.
“So I know when you’ve got PE and I can make sure your kit is washed.”
