Mum smiled and nodded and said, “That’s the style they wear when petticoated.”
“It’s horrible.” I baulked.
“Well I wouldn’t say that.” Mum replied. “I think ‘too nice’ is more appropriate.” she suggested.
Either way, it’s not something I want to think about. I glanced at the time and figured Peter would be home by now. I recalled his mother saying ‘let’s get you home and out of that uniform’ and figured he’d be wearing something girlie by now… but I didn’t want to think about it. I returned to my room and put the Colditz game away. Peter said he used to have this game as well as some of the same model tanks and planes as me, which means he used to be a normal boy. I wondered what he did when his mother first petticoated him; was he willing or did he put up a fight? I can’t imagine the former so settled for the latter of the two possibilities… but I didn’t want to think about it.
A few weeks later, Peter said. “It’s my birthday next week and Mum asked if you wanted to come for tea.”
I told him I’d like to but would have to check with my mother first. “What day?” I asked.
“Tuesday.” Peter replied. “The 6th… but I’ll forewarn you.” he added, “I have to wear my party dress. I tried to get out of it but Mum wouldn’t budge.” He hung his head and I said I hoped I wouldn’t have to wear a dress too. “You’re not petticoated like me.” he replied. I told him that I’d have to check with my mother first.
I wasted no time telling my mother that Peter had invited me to his birthday when I arrived home. “I know.” Mum replied. “An invitation came through the letterbox this afternoon.” she told me. “I assume his mother popped it round.” she said as she passed me the card.
“Peter warned me that he’ll have to wear a dress.” I said as I took the card; pink and white striped with a print of a pink satin bow and the words Peter’s Birthday Party written on the front. On the reverse it says ‘You’re invited to join us in celebration of Peter’s 13th Birthday Party’. The whole thing is pink and girlie, even the ornate lettering makes his name look girlie. I feel sorry for him. He doesn’t have many friends and I guess I really should accept the invitation, but if he’ll be wearing one of his prissy dresses, maybe I should decline. “I’m not sure if he wants me to go or if his mother told him to invite me.” I said. “I got the feeling he’d rather I didn’t.”
“What makes you say that?” Mum asked.
“I just think he’d rather keep his friends and his home-life separate.” I said. “He never invites anyone around and he wasn’t happy when I called unannounced that time.” I added.
“But he has invited you.” Mum said. “He might be upset if you don’t go… and if he doesn’t have many friends it won’t be very nice celebrating his birthday alone.”
“If I had to wear a dress on my birthday I think I’d rather celebrate alone.” I replied, adding that it would be a pretty weird ‘party’ with Peter having to wear a dress. “I’d feel out of place.”
“Not necessarily.” Mum replied. “You could show him some solidarity and wear one too.”
First of all, I flat refused. Secondly, I asked what solidarity meant and thirdly I reminded my mother that I’m not petticoated like Peter.
The first thing Mum said was that solidarity means unity and that I should stand by and support my friend. “You may not be petticoated like Peter is, but that’s no reason why you can’t put yourself out for once.” was the second thing she said, and third and finally she asked me how I’d feel if my best friend snubbed me on my birthday.
“I’m not snubbing him Mum.” I whined. “I just don’t think he wants me to go and I don’t really want to go either.”
Mum gave me one of those looks. “Well I’m disappointed in you John. I thought you were a better friend than that.” she said.
The following day at school, Peter asked me if I’d asked my Mum if I could attend his party. Reluctantly I said I had. “And?” he asked. “Are you coming?”
I shrugged and said, “I dunno.” I explained that I have a feeling he’d rather I didn’t go, “Considering how things are for you at home… maybe you’d rather your schoolmates didn’t go there.” I told him. He rephrased the question and asked if I ‘wanted’ to go. “I would if you didn’t have to wear a dress.” I replied. “But my Mum’s telling me that I should wear one too.” I added with great reluctance.
“Well in that case… if I were you I wouldn’t go.” Peter said. “Dresses are horrible… no one should have to wear them, not even girls.”