“Alison, can you explain to the class what an equilateral triangle is?”
This name is doubly uncomfortable for Andrew, since it harks back to his dim and distant past when his big sister used to put him in a dress when babysitting him… she also used to call him Alison whenever he was dressed as a girl.
“Andrew’s far too plain for such a pretty dress.” she used to tell him when he protested.
His sister is seven years his elder and is almost twenty years old now.
She moved away after leaving school to go to college and study one of the ‘ologies.
He can’t help but wonder what she says if she could see him now.
The lunch bell rings at twelve noon and class is dismissed. William is escorted to the refectory by Amanda and it’s here that he first sees Andrew.
“What happened this morning?” Andrew asked.
With his head hung low, William told his friend that he’d got up early; around 6 am, and snook out the house before his mother or father were up and just hung out, trying to avoid people in general.
“I saw them bring you back at break time,” Andrew informed him.
Wayne hung his head and blushed. “So, what did you do?” he asked.
“I half expected to meet up somewhere.”
“Well I couldn’t sneak out… mum was already up.” Andrew replied.
“I had to wait for the minibus,” he said, before claiming that he would have made a run for it
“…but Mother made me wear that dress again so…” he shrugged and sighed.
“What’s your name?” Amanda asked Andrew.
“Err… Alan… er… Alison.” Alan humbly replied.
“And have you and Winifred been friends for long?” she asked, adding “Alison.”
Andrew gulped and nodded. “Since junior school.”
“Who are you?” Andrew asked.
“My name’s Amanda… I’ve got the unfortunate task of chaperoning Winifred today.” she replied, sneering at the boy beside her.
“Don’t you have one?” William asked.
“What?”
“A chaperone.”
Andrew shook his head. “I don’t really know what one is.”
Amanda explained, adding “…clearly you’ve been obedient and compliant so far Alison, and don’t need a chaperone.”
Andrew gulped. He has been obedient and compliant.
He’ll do anything to ensure that his time in this dreadful school is as short as possible, but in doing so, he can’t help but feel guilty.
Wayne shoots a dagger-like stare at Andrew.
He’s equally unimpressed with Andrew’s obedience.
After lunch, they’re sent into the yard and as before, Andrew is given a skipping rope and sent to play with it.
Wayne is sent to a different area of the yard where he’s told to partake in a game of hopscotch.
“I’m not playing hopscotch!” he yelped.
He was astonished that they’d even suggest such a thing.
“It’s not optional Winifred!” the prefect that supervises the activity retorted.
Amanda reminds him that disobedience can result in a one-day extension to his stay here.
William points out that loads of other kids aren’t playing hopscotch or skipping.
“They’re girls… you’re a boy which means you have to do an activity when it’s playtime,” Amanda explained.
“Is it really worth an additional day for every time you don’t play?” she asked.
Amanda had a point and William shyly joined in with the boys.
He didn’t really know how to play since it’s always been a girl’s game, but his biggest worry is trying to skip and hop in shoes he can barely walk in.
Andrew’s afternoon classes are history and geography, followed by another break in which he sort of gets the hang of skipping with a rope.
William has maths and English and is sent to play hopscotch at break.
The next time he and Andrew get changed to speak is on the minibus home, but the other boys wanted to know all about the events this morning when the prefects went on a boy hunt.
Wayne added spice and color to his version of events, making his evasion and eventual capture much more dramatic than it actually was. “Are you gonna do the same tomorrow?” Andrew asked.
“Dunno… I’m tempted.” William said. “I don’t wanna wear this again, that’s for sure.”
“Me neither, but I reckon it’s better to just go along with it than risk being suspended for three or fours weeks instead of just two.” Andrew wisely replied.
“I hope I don’t have to wear this again though,” he said, referring to the dress slung over his forearm.
The same dress that Mrs Vaughn had given him the previous day, and the dress he’d worn this morning when he boarded the school minibus.
“Amanda said we’ve got to keep our uniforms on when we’re doing our homework,” William told Andrew.
“Are you gonna?”
“Nah,” William replied. “Not if I can help it anyway.”
One by one, the boys are dropped off outside their houses, and eventually, it’s William’s turn.
Andrew watches through the minibus window as William walks toward his front door; wide open and occupied by his parents.
Each wears a most disgruntled expression. When Andrew’s dropped off, his mother aslo waits at the door.
“How was it?” she asked.
“Horrible,” he grumbled.
“Your uniform’s nice… very smart.” his mother says as he enters.
Meanwhile, William is arguing against having to keep his uniform on whilst he does his homework.
“You’re not in a position to argue William…” his mother tells him.
Apparently, she has a daily feedback form which will be handed back to the education welfare services.
Every misdemeanor or disobedient act needs to be noted and they may result in his period of suspension being extended.
“It’s up to you William… you can either wear your uniform for a couple of hours after school each evening or wear it for god knows how many extra days in two weeks’ time.”
William concedes and remains in his uniform until his homework is complete.
When Andrew’s mother tells him that he must remain in uniform, he doesn’t put up a fight because he knows it’s in his own interests not to put up a fight.
He wants to spend as little time as possible attending St Urshalla’s School for Girls.
But when he tells his mother that he’s going to his room, he can’t help but argue his mother’s reply. “I’ve decided to move you into your sister’s old room.”
“But why?!” Andrew whined.
“Because under the circumstances, it’s more appropriate,” she tells him.
“It’s bad enough being a girl at school, I don’t want to be one at home too!”
“You’re not a girl Andrew, you’re a petticoated boy, and whilst you are a petticoated boy, you’ll spend your time living, and learning to act more like a girl.”
“But!”
“But nothing Andrew.
If you’d tried harder to be a good boy rather than becoming a juvenile delinquent, we wouldn’t have had to resort to this.” his mother tells him.
“Now go to your room if you must, and make sure you hang your dress up… I don’t want to find it screwed up on the floor.”
Andrew stamped up to his sister’s room and gulps at its overall pinkness.
It could be argued that his sister moved out because her room hadn’t been redecorated since she was about seven or eight years old.
The wallpaper intrigued him when he was about five or six years old but the more Andrew grew, the more it sickened him; all those cute bunnies, pixies, and princesses… they really don’t appeal to any growing boy.
It wouldn’t be so bad if it was just the wallpaper.
It’s pretty much everything else too.
There are pink butterflies on the lampshade and curtains and pink flower-shaped door and drawer knobs, even a fluffy pink rug in the shape of a love heart.
He opens the wardrobe and is faced with yet more pink, although many other colours make up the resplendent display of skirts, blouses, frocks, and dresses.
He finds a vacant hanger and put his dress on it, before hanging it away and quickly shutting the doors.
Being a girl’s bedroom, there’s a big mirror on the back of the door and a smaller one on the dressing table.
Whilst frowning at his reflection, andrew tugs at his bunches and pulls the ribbons out, but his hair doesn’t look much better.
Since it’s been tied up all day there’s a big kink in it which he tries to brush out with his sister’s pink hairbrush… and it’s whilst he’s doing this that his mother checks on him.
“Settling in I see.” she grinned.
Andrew blushes and stops what he’s doing.
He must have looked like such a girl when she walked in. she asks him if he’d hung his dress away and he nodded.
She asked if he’d started his homework yet.
“I’m just about to,” he replied.
“I was just trying to brush these kinks out of my hair,” he said.
“Tell you what.” his mother said.
“Why don’t we put your bunches back in and we’ll wash the kinks out later in the bath?” she said.
She’d pretty much tied one bunch by the time she’d finished the sentence, so there was little point protesting.
“I might do my homework downstairs,” Andrew suggested.
“It’s too pink in here.”
Andrew took his books downstairs and laid them out on the dining table.
“What do you look like?!” his dad said, chuckling.
“Don’t tease him, George.” Alan’s mother said.
“And take no notice of your father Andrew.”
“I’m not teasing him.” Andrew’s father claimed.
“I was about to say how nice he looks.
I’ve always said if his hair gets any longer it’ll have to be put in bunches.”
“Did William have his hair in bunches too?” Andrew’s mother asked.
“Eventually,” Andrew replied, before telling his parents that Wayne didn’t get on the bus this morning having vacated his home before his parents were up and that about ten prefects spent two hours looking for him.
“Silly boy.” Andrew’s mother sighed.
“I honestly don’t know why you hang around with him.”
“He’s my friend,” Andrew replied.
“He’s a bad influence.”
After completing his homework, Andrew is told he can change out of his school uniform, and told to make sure he hangs it up properly.
“Mum!” he hollers from the landing.
“My bedroom door’s locked.”
“No it isn’t.” his mother shouts back.
“I mean, my old bedroom.”
His mother appears in the hallway.
“Your old room’s out of bounds for the time being,” she tells him. “As well you know.”
“But… my clothes are in there.”
“There’s plenty in your room.”
“But they’re all girl’s clothes.” he frowned.
“I know.” his mother replied.
She gave him the option of finding himself something to wear, or her finding something for him.
Andrew rummaged through the drawers and the best he could find was a pair of pale blue pants with white heart-shaped pockets on both front and back and a pale blue ribbed jumper.
Other choices included a pair of dusty pink bell-bottom jeans, turquoise pedal pushers, some purple paisley pants, and several pairs of girl’s shorts… plus all the skirts and frocks in the wardrobe, of course.
Sheepishly, Andrew made his way downstairs.
“I had a feeling you’d choose pants.” his mother said.
“At least you kept you bunches in.” she added.
“Turn around. Let’s have a proper look?” she asked.
“Haven’t you got a training bra on?” she quizzed
“No.” Andrew meekly replied.
“Well go and put one on please… there’s plenty in your underwear drawer.”
“It’s not ‘my’ underwear drawer,” he muttered as he tramped back up the stairs.
“It is for the time being.” his mother stated.
Meanwhile, William is glad to be back in boy’s clothes… but he’s still in his parents’ bad books for absconding this morning.
“Andrew was on the minibus… but I guess his mother had the good sense to get him up and get him dressed before he had a chance to do anything rash.”
William’s mother said, before assuring that he won’t have the same opportunity tomorrow morning.
William hung his head since the thought had crossed his mind several times.
“How did you get on those shoes anyway?” his mother asked.
“You won’t be used to heels will you?”
“They were horrible… and at dinner time and break, they made me play hopscotch.
It’s bad enough trying to walk in them, let alone hop and skip!” he whined.
“I’m surprised I didn’t twist my ankle.”
“Well I suppose playing a game like hopscotch will get you accustomed to them rather quickly.” his mother replied.
“Did Andrew play hopscotch too?” she asked.
William shook his head and said that Andrew had to play skipping, with a rope.
“It’s not fair that we have to play girlie games when the actual girls can just do what they want.”
“Well you are boys in a girl’s school remember.
They’re just making sure you fit in.” she said.
“Did Andrew get a girl’s name too?”
“Yeah… Alison.” William almost growled.
“Ooh I bet he loves that!” William’s mother sniggered.
“It’s better than Winifred.” William whined.
“It’ll help you fit in.” his mother said.
“What classes have you got tomorrow?”
William shrugged. “I dunno.”
“Haven’t you got a timetable?”
“Er… it’s in that bag.”
“Your handbag?”
William gulped and nodded.
His mother stood up and got it from the back of the chair where he’d hung it on his arrival home.
“Does everyone have one?” she asked as she rested the small leather bag on her lap.
William nodded.
His mother opened it and he began to blush when she listed the items inside; spare tights, clean knickers and a hanky.
“…ah, here we are.” she said, perusing the postcard-sized chart.
“You’ve got a dance class tomorrow.” she said, before listing the other classes;
English,
drama,
history,
maths,
geography,
domestic science and French.
“What’s domestic science?” he humbly asked.
“Cooking and cleaning and stuff like that.”
“That’s not science!”
“Well, it’s good to know… it’s about time you started lifting a finger and helping around the house.”
William skewed his chin.
His mother put the timetable back in his handbag and closed it.
A wry smile swept her face as she read the name tag;
Winifred Dowson; 3C.
“I might put your hair in plaits tomorrow.” she suggested, pushing her fingers through his locks.
“Please don’t Mum.”
“I thought you might prefer it to bunches… but if you want bunches again, that’s fine.”
“I don’t want either.” William whined.