As they walk the halls, their heels clack noisily on the parquet floor. Andrew curses himself for not being more honest and telling the head teacher that it’s been an awful week. “It’s horrible wearing heels and itchy tights… having to wear bunches and answer to Alice.”

“I think she knows that already.” William replied. “The point of sending us here is that we’ll hate it.”

“Yeah I know.” Andrew said. “The annoying thing is… hang on…” he said, stopping to hitch up his tights. “…I’ve only been here a week and I’m getting used to it.”

“Yeah me too.” William gulped. “…and I don’t have the excuse of having to wear girl’s clothes at home.” he said. “You doing owt tomorrow?”

“Dressing as a girl I guess.” Andrew grumbled. “Which means I won’t be going anywhere.” he added.

“I might come round if that’s OK.” William suggested.

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Andrew replied, stating his reasoning. William pointed out the obvious flaw in his logic; that being he dresses as a girl at school anyway so it’ll be no surprise to see him dressed as a girl at home. “Yeah but… mum makes me wear really girlie dresses… and make-up too.”

“I don’t mind.” William replied. “…and I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re worried about.”

They boarded the minibus and were soon delivered to their respective homes. William’s mother asked if he’d enjoyed his day at school. William dryly claimed that he’d merely ‘endured’ it. “Have you any plans for the weekend?” his mother asked.

“Well… I was gonna go round to Andrew’s tomorrow, but he didn’t seem very keen.” William replied.

“Why not?” his mother quizzed. “You haven’t fallen out have you?”

“No.” William replied, before explaining about Andrew having to wear girl’s clothes all the time at home too. “I dunno why he’s embarrassed… we both dress as girls all day at St Flick’s.”

“You’d think he’d be used to it by now.” his mother replied. “Have you got much homework?”

“A bit.” William replied. “It shouldn’t take me long.”

“Don’t forget you’ve got to practice your ballet too.” his mother reminded him.

“Hmmm.” William groaned. He had forgotten about that.

Early on Saturday afternoon, William rides round to Andrew’s house and knocks on the door. “Hello Mrs Smith. Is Andrew in?”

“He is William, come in.” Andrew’s mother says. “Andrew!” she hollers. “William’s here to see you.” she shouts. She looks William up and down; monkey boots, jeans, jumper and a parka jacket. “Your hair’s developed a nice wave.” she says.

“Yeah.” William bashfully replied, shyly thumbing the ends of his hair. “Mum puts it in plaits for school.”

“Yes, Andrew said… I think he’d rather have plaits too but I like him in bunches.” she replied. “William!” she hollered again. “I think he’s being a bit shy because I put his hair in rags last night.” she told him. William adopted a rather perplexed expression, clearly not knowing what hair rags are or do. “They make it nice and curly.” Andrew’s mother added. “Alan!” she hollered again.

“Ooh.” William replied as Andrew finally emerged at the top of the stairs. “Blimey it really is curly innit!” William gasped as Andrew descended the stairs.

Andrew was more worried about the dress his mother had made him wear today than how she’d styled his hair. A deep purple prairie style dress with a white bib, bounded by a broad frilly trim and it’s hem and cuffs are trimmed with white lace. On his feet is a pair of brown leather heeled shoes and his legs are clad in a pair of white knitted tights. “It’s weird you being taller than me.” William said when Andrew reached the hallway. His shoes have a two inch heel and his incredibly curly hair adds an additional inch or two to his overall height. His lips are painted in a pale pink shade of lipstick and his eyelashes are coated in thick black mascara.

“Doesn’t he look nice?” Andrew’s mother gushed.

“Er, yeah.” William replied.

“Why don’t you boys sit in the parlour?” Andrew’s mother suggested. “I’ll fetch some refreshments.”

William followed Andrew to the parlour; a room filled with posh furniture, tacky ornaments and vases filled with dried flowers. Unlike the sitting room, the parlour is seldom used. William perches on the sofa whilst Andrew sits on an armchair. He gulps before telling William in no uncertain terms that his dress was his mother’s choice, not his. “Yeah I gathered that.” William replied. “She doesn’t make you go out does she?”

“No… thank God.” Andrew replied. “I do have some boyish stuff that I could go out in but… even that’s a bit too girlie.” he frowned.