“I can’t believe I just did that,” I said, horrified at my reactions.
“You almost drooled at him,” she said, giggling unmercifully at my obvious discomfort.
I was distracted for most of the afternoon, as I could not stop thinking about his smile.
I was called in to see the head at the end of the day. I knew that this was coming, and I was dreading it.
“Sit down, Sandi,” he said.
I sat, and he closed the door.
He went behind his desk, taking out the latest letter from my doctor.
He re-read it, and then looked at me.
I felt very uncomfortable.
“Sandi, I’m sorry, but this can’t go on,” he said, not unkindly.
I nodded.
“You have to clarify the situation and bring your father into the loop. There is so much speculation about you, that it is very unhealthy. It also could damage the school’s standing in the community, and if the press were to be involved, I shudder to think what would happen.”
I nodded again. “Are you excluding me?” I asked.
He smiled.
“No, what for? You’re a good student, your grades at GCSE were exceptional, and I cannot complain about your behaviour or your attitude. You dress in a very ambiguous way, and do not make a spectacle of yourself. No, Sandi, I am not going to exclude you, but I will ask you to dress more as a girl.”
I frowned.
“You see, you look more like a girl than a boy now, and there was even a sweepstake in the staff room last week as to your real gender. I had to step in and put an end to it, but as the only person who knows the truth, more people, staff and pupils, believe you are a girl than a boy, now.”
“I can’t. My dad will kill me,” I said.
He stared at me.
“Then we need to hold a meeting with your father, the doctors and myself. It is truth time, my girl,” he said.
I looked up sharply as he said the last two words, and smiled in spite of my depression.
“I suppose so, but he’s in the States at the moment.”
“How long is he away?”
“A few more days, I think,” I said.
“Then we’ll meet as soon as he gets back. I will arrange it with the doctors, and we will have it here. So, shall we say Tuesday week, in the evening in my office?”
I nodded.
“I know this is a difficult time for you, but I believe things will be better in the open.”
“May I know what the doctor said?”
He picked up the letter.
“She tells me that the last psychiatric assessment was conducted last week, and that Dr Manning believes that you are overdue to transition and begin living wholly as a female. She explains that psychologically you are female, and your physiological state is about as feminine as possible without actual surgery. She also tells me that your case has been discussed, and that several surgical procedures have been approved, pending continued psychological evaluations.
“In other words, your transition to being a girl has been approved.”
I smiled sadly once more.
“My Dad will still kill me,” I said.
“Let’s see about that,” he said.
I left his office, slightly depressed on the one hand, yet elated on the other. I had known that the doctor was going to discuss my case with the powers that be, but was not aware that the green light had been given.
Jenny was waiting for me at the bus stop. She had let two buses go; I was pleased.
“Hi, are you okay?” she asked, looking concerned. This was a new experience for me, as no one had really cared about me before.
I told her about my meeting with the head, and she took my arm. We sat in the shelter, as it started to rain.
“What are you doing tonight?” I asked.
“I have to help out at the hotel. There is a large function booked, and I’m helping with the waitressing. It gets me some extra pocket money.”
“Cool,” I said.
She looked at me.
“Hey, do you want to help too?”
“What, you mean as a girl?”
“Duh. You wouldn’t make a very convincing waiter.”
I smiled.
“Okay, if you are sure your parents won’t mind.”
“Mind? They will be ecstatic. They can never get enough waitresses,” she told me.
A car pulled up, a small blue Vauxhall Nova.
“Hey girls, how do you fancy a lift?” It was David, with Mike in the passenger seat.
Jenny looked at me, and I shrugged. I seemed to shrug an awful lot these days.
“Come on,” she said, accepting his offer.
We clambered in the back seats, as he took off down the road, very fast.
“David, if you’re going to drive like a tosser, then let me out now!” I heard myself say.
He slowed down, and half turned towards me.
“Sorry,” he said, grinning sheepishly.
“Just remember, I’m not impressed by boy-racers,” I said, as Jenny started to giggle, and even Mike laughed.
“Under the thumb already, and you only met her at lunchtime,” he told David. I blushed furiously.
“So what are you two doing tonight?” Mike asked.
“Sandi and I are working at the hotel, waitressing.”
“Cool, we’ll have to come and have a pint then,” said David, and I saw him look at me in the mirror. I blushed again.
We chatted about a school and exams for a bit. The guys had their A levels after Easter, so were nearly finished with school. Mike wanted to be a doctor, but David was hoping to join the Royal Air Force and be a pilot.
“You’re too tall for a fighter pilot,” I said.
“I fancy helicopters,” he said.
“The Navy and Army have more than the RAF,” I said. He looked at me in his mirror again, as if to say, ‘how do you know?’
“I read it somewhere,” I explained.
We came to my house, where they dropped me off, so I told Jenny I would be up by six on my moped.
I dashed in and checked the answer-phone – no messages, not that I expected any, but sometimes Dad would leave a message if he was on his way home, or had been delayed or something.
I changed into my proper clothes, so when I had finished, the girl looked back, so I felt right again. My breast forms were so realistic that the nipples showed through my bra and tee shirt. I wore jeans as I was going to ride my moped. I put my high heels into the box, with a white blouse and short dark skirt. I wore tights under my jeans.
I put on my makeup, but found my hands trembling with excitement. I didn’t know whether it was the fact I was going to be on view to everyone as a girl, or that David might see me.
It took me five minutes to reach the hotel. It was set on a separate headland, with a small private beach below.
I parked the bike and went to the back door.
The kitchen was in turmoil. A large woman in white chef’s gear looked at me.
“Hello, can I help?”
“I’m Jenny’s friend, Sandi. I’ve come to help as a waitress.”
“Hi Sandi. I’m Liz, the chef. I also happen to be Jenny’s mother. Have you got the right clothes?”
I held up my skirt and blouse.
“Super, look, see that phone on the wall? Be a sweetie, dial one-oh-two and that’s our apartment. Jenny will come and collect you. You can change in the flat.” With that, she turned back to whatever she was doing.
I called up, so within moments Jenny had collected me, and I found myself led to their small flat on the first floor at the back of the hotel.
She was already changed, but as I changed, she watched me, shaking her head.
“I still can’t believe you are a boy,” she said.
“I don’t think I am any more.”
I redid my makeup, so she passed me a bottle of red nail varnish.
Twenty minutes later, we presented ourselves to her father in the dining room.
Her father, John Armstrong, was a big man, which was just as well when I recalled her mother.
“Hi, you must be Sandi?” he said, shaking my hand.
“Hello Mr Armstrong,” I said.