“Hi Sandi.”
“Hi.”
“What are you doing this weekend?” she asked.
I shrugged. “I dunno. Nothing, as usual, I suppose.”
She sat on the wall next to me, and I felt jealous that she could wear a short skirt and I couldn’t. She reached out and touched my hair.
“I love your hair like that. It’s really pretty,” she said, letting my hair run through her fingers.
I smiled, as this was a type of conversation I dreamed about.
“You know you told Harry Adams you were a girl?”
“I didn’t. He asked me if I was a girl, so when I didn’t say anything, he assumed I was.”
“Okay, well, whatever, it’s just that his sister thinks you said you were a boy?”
“So?”
She smiled. “I think you’re so cool. No one knows for sure what you are.”
“What do you think?”
She looked at me closely.
“You sound like a girl, you look like a girl and you act like a girl. But something tells me that you’re a boy. But I think that you don’t want to be a boy.”
I smiled.
“What makes you so sure?” I asked.
“Some of your mannerisms are too aggressive. Most of the time you are very feminine, but sometimes, when you’re not concentrating or are worried, you slip up.”
I smiled, a little sadly I suppose.
She touched my arm.
“I don’t mean to upset you. I’d never tell. You really are too pretty to be a boy.”
I smiled again.
“Have you some friends coming round this weekend?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“I don’t mix much,” I admitted.
“Yeah, I had noticed,” she said, smiling a little knowing smile.
The bus arrived and we got on.
“Good day at school, girls?” the driver asked us.
I grinned and nodded, so Jenny saw my smile. We went down the back and sat down.
“You like fooling people, don’t you?” she asked.
I thought about it.
“I used to think that was it, but actually I just like being accepted as a girl. That’s all there is to it,” I admitted.
“Well, you do a good job, and without even wearing the clothes,” she said.
“I wear them at home, when my old man is away.”
“What about your mother?”
“She’s dead.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not, not really. She pissed off with her lover when I was ten. They both died in a sailing accident not long after.”
“Gosh, how horrid.”
“It was probably my Dad. He’s a bit of a nasty bastard at times. That’s why I have to be so careful. If he caught me as a girl, he’d kill me.”
She stared at me, unsure whether to believe me or not.
I then told her about my treatments and plans, and she was captivated. The bus stopped near my house. I knew that Dad was away for a couple of days, so I was alone.
“Look, Dad’s away, do you want to come in for a bit?” I asked.
She looked at her watch, and nodded. We both got off and I opened up the house. She rang her parents, who were busy and pleased she was with a friend. There was a note from my Dad telling me that he had to fly to New York for four or five days, but he would make it up to me when he got back.
“What does your dad do?”
“I don’t ask, and he doesn’t need to lie. But I reckon whatever it is, it is probably illegal.”
She was not listening, as her eyes were popping out at the luxurious fixtures and fittings. I thought them rather gaudy and vulgar, but Dad liked them. It was a big, detached house, six bedrooms and an acre and a half of garden. It was set on a headland, a long way from any neighbours. A high wall surrounded the house, and it was a little on the bleak side. Mature trees in the garden gave it some shade and character, while some woodland to the left protected it from the winter winds.
Dad had been brought up in Bow, East London, or ‘dragged up’ as he put it. He remembered the small terraced house and six brothers and sisters fighting for the middle of the bed, as it was warmer there. Therefore, his taste in furnishings was not very refined. If it was expensive, he liked it, regardless of how crappy it looked. Mother had been of more genteel stock, and had, while they were together, taken most of the decisions relating to interior decorating and design.
However, since her leaving and subsequent death, Dad had no checks and balances in place. I was not old enough to have a say, except for in my own room.
“Wow, this is some place,” she said, looking at a chandelier that would have looked fine in some casino in Las Vegas.
“It’s okay,” I said, leading her up to my room.
She sat on my double bed as I went into my bathroom and through the change. I had never dressed for anyone else before, so I was excited to know what she felt. I had a favourite denim skirt and several tops I liked to wear with it.
I finished my makeup and returned to the bedroom.
“Shit, Sandi, you look amazing. You have a super figure,” she said.
I smiled, as what she said gave me a warm tingly feeling all over.
“My God, there is no way anyone would ever think you weren’t a girl looking like that.”
“You reckon?”
“So your dad is away, right?”
“Yeah, so, he does this all the time?”
“How about I stay over?”
“What overnight?” I asked, incredulous. No one had ever stayed with me before.
“Yeah. We could go to school tomorrow from here.”
“Yeah, great. What about your parents?”
She took out her mobile, punching her parent’s number.
“Hi Mum, I’m with Sandi at her place, look,” she said, turning her phone round, using the camera to send my photo to her mother.
“And she wants me to stay over so we can do our homework together.”
Seconds later, she closed up the phone.
“Easy peasy. As soon as she saw that you were a girl, she relaxed.”
“I’ve never had anyone stay over before,” I admitted, and sat next to her on the bed.
She put her arm around my shoulders.
“Hey, you’re a sad case, aren’t you?”
I tried to be tough, but it didn’t work. Some tears came, and all my stress came out. She hugged me for a few minutes, but then I pulled myself together.
“I’m sorry Jenny, but you’re the first person I’ve ever told.”
“Hey, don’t worry. Look, is your Dad away all weekend?”
“I suppose, yeah.”
“Why don’t we go into town and see a movie or something.”
“What like this?”
“Why not? Have you anything that I could wear?” she asked.
I showed her all the clothes I had amassed over the last few years, and she was amazed. Some of my mother’s evening dresses were expensive, top designer-names.
She dressed in a skirt and top; not too dissimilar to me, and I thought she looked stunning. I told her, making her smile.
I smiled, as I was so happy. It had been a dream of mine for ages, but I lacked the courage to do it alone.
We caught the bus into Brighton and went for a pizza. We sat and talked girly talk, so I was able to ask her advice on so many things from clothes and makeup to my mannerisms.
“So, what about boys?” she asked.
“What about them?” I asked, going very red.
She laughed. “What do you think about boys?”
I thought for a moment.
“At school, they tend to either tease me, or ignore me, so I ignore them. But when I’m alone, dressed like this, I fantasise that I have a lover.”
“Do you fancy boys or girls?”
I smiled. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend, for that matter. I see girls as friends, and I think I look at boys as a normal girl would. How about you, have you a boyfriend?”