Pigtails Are For Girls — Part 15
Chapters 33-34 
 
By Katherine Day
 
It’s a whole new life for Jane who now seeks to become accepted for who she is in a world that may not be ready for her.
Somehow she finds a way, gaining new strength.

With great thanks to Julie for her careful editing and ideas
Copyright 2009

Chapter 33: A Girl’s Life in a Tough School

The news that the new girl in school, Jane Pinkerton, was in fact the boy who used to be known as Jarod spread quickly through the school.

“You really made an impression this morning, Jane, when you entered school,” Wanda said in a phone call before Jane went to sleep after the first eventful day.

“I was so scared, Wanda,” she said. “You guys were so great. I thought sure I’d be beat up or something.”

“So did I, but all the other girls were so cool,” Wanda said. “And I’ll go with you tomorrow, too, and we’ll meet Latoya and Tiffany and maybe a few more.”

Jane smiled; she was still excited over the day, her first time in school as a girl, her dumping of all her boy things and the warm approval of her parents, particularly her stepfather. It was already 10 p.m. when Wanda called; Jane had just emerged from a long leisurely bath, in which she was immersed in perfumed bubbles and was calmed and feeling so soft and lovely. She donned a knee length, sleeveless light cotton nightie with a scalloped collar. It flared out a bit from her hips, leaving her slender legs exposed.

“Oh Wanda,” she said. “You were always so right, telling me I really am a girl. It feels so true.”

“I saw you as a girl the first time I saw you on your bike when we moved here,” she said.

“And remember how you tried to make me strong and more like a boy,” Jane said, laughing at the pathetic attempts she had made trying to make Jarod “one of the boys.”

“And, Jane, you were hopeless. I just love you as my girl friend,” Wanda said.

There was silence on the phone for a bit. Jane’s thoughts returned to her friend Terri, soon to be cremated, and realized that Wanda never realized how close she had been to Terri, how much she considered the soft, warm Terri to be a girl friend.

“Wanda,” she said finally. “I feel so guilty.”

“Guilty? About what?”

“About Terri . . . I mean Terrence,” Jane began. “I never told you, but he wanted to be a girl too. Really did. And now he’s dead, and I’m alive. And the only reason I’m here as Jane is because his death told me I had to be a girl now.”

“Terrence? A girl? He was such a bully, Jane. I can’t believe that.”

Jane’s voice became heavy as she related how she and Terri had dressed as girls back one summer, and how Terri had been abused by his stepfather.

“He was a sweet girl, Wanda,” Jane said. “He was so confused. He couldn’t satisfy either his stepfather or his own need to be a girl. So he’s gone.”

“Oh Jane, I didn’t know.”

“And they won’t have any service for him and he’ll be cremated. It’s awful.”

“You poor girl, but you’re not to blame,” Wanda said. “It’s a world that won’t recognize differences and won’t recognize boys wanting to be girls.”

When they finally finished, Jane was able to curl up under the covers in her frilly feminine room and fall into a deep sleep.

*****
Jerome, the monster of a school aide, was all smiles as Jane entered the school, accompanied by about a half dozen of her girl friends, about to begin her first full day in school as Jane Pinkerton.

“Miss Pinkerton, I believe,” he said. “You’re looking pretty today, young lady.”

Jane smiled. She had taken care to look feminine, but not too sexy, on this important day in school, choosing a knee-length plain dark blue skirt, a crá¨me-colored top without sleeves and with a ruffled bodice. She wore coffee-colored hose and flats with a strap across the instep. She wore her hair loose, and it fell about her shoulders, giving her a casual, soft appearance.
“Mrs. Jones said I should escort you to the office to get your new credentials,” he said.

The girls who accompanied Jane to the school entrance watched, most of them smiling; Jane noticed, however, that Tiffany and Aniesha were somber, apparently not sharing the event, even though they had joined in escorting Jane through the mob of students. She wondered why the two girls were so unenthusiastic about the transformation. Jane cared about both girls; they were two of her first friends in the school. She would have to ask them, she thought.

Jane heard some giggles, and several comments, some crude, as they had walked into the school. Wanda told her that most of the students had heard about Jane’s arrival the previous day, and had greeted that rumor with a mixture of unbelief (a boy being a girl?), disgust (it’s against God’s rules), expectancy (he was such a girly boy anyway) and even praise (what courage!).

“I’m prepared for the worst, mother,” Jane said when she left for school that morning. “But it’ll be OK, mom.”

Mrs. Jones, the principal, met Jane without ceremony, quickly handing over her new ID card, identifying her as “Jane Pinkerton” and with the welcome word “Female.”

“This is only your temporary card, Jane,” she explained. “Here’s a pass for you to go during your study hall period to Room B23 to get your new picture taken for your new permanent ID card.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jones,” she said, her smile growing as she saw the word “female.”

“Jerome and the rest of the aides and security people will keep an eye on you Jane for a while to be sure you will be safe,” she said. “Not everybody likes what you’re doing, but we’ll try to protect you the best we can.”

Jane nodded, agreeing she’d be quick to seek help from a teacher or one of the aides if she was attacked or bothered in any way. She noticed how cold Mrs. Jones seemed, compared to their first meeting. Perhaps, Jane wondered, the other kids were right: she could be a mean principal. And, maybe too, Jane’s sudden appearance as a girl may have unnerved her, forcing her to face some possible unpleasant duties.

“Mrs. Jones,” she said. “I am sorry to cause you all this trouble, but I had to.”

“I know honey,” the principal said, her fairly business-like expression softening. “I’m sure Jane will be a very good student.”

Thus began Jane’s first full day of school as a girl.

*****
Jane’s first class that day was advanced geometry, which, she hoped, would not offer much of a challenge from the other students, since they all tended to be more serious about their schoolwork, and might not be ready to heckle or gawk.

“You’re late, Miss Pinkerton,” the math teacher, a rather prissy older man named Mr. Bristol. He exaggerated the “Miss” in his question.

“Here’s my slip, Mr. Bristol,” she replied, her face growing flush. “I was with the principal.”

The entire class, about 15 students, looked right at her, and Jane felt like she wanted to duck under a seat or melt into the floor. They were examining her minutely, and she saw at least two students shake their heads in what she felt was disgust.

“Ok, Miss,” the teacher said, taking the slip from Jane’s hand.

He then turned to the class, employing his sarcastic manner, said: “Now class, let’s all welcome our new student here, Miss Jane Pinkerton. Let’s applaud now, all together, to this lovely new student.”

They applauded hesitantly and weakly. Jane felt just horrified now, embarrassed and weak at the knees.

“Jane,” the teacher said, again with the sarcasm dripping from his lips, “You sit here, in the seat formerly occupied by Mister Pinkerton.”

Jane looked down to the floor, trying to hide tears that were forming in her eyes, and rather awkwardly taking the seat at the desk. Somehow, she suffered through the class, never volunteering an answer in class and, thankfully, never being called upon by the teacher.

As the class ended, Jane tried to scoot out without any conversation from the other students, but she quickly found herself accompanied by Samuel Ostering, a boy she knew only from this class; he always seemed a bit crude and she feared the worst. He was a tall, slender boy with straggly hair and a pockmarked face.

“Bristol is so gross,” he quickly volunteered. “I wanted to bop him for the way he talked to you.”

“Oh, Sam, really?” she replied, surprised.

“Oh that was awful, you must have felt terrible?”

“Yes,” she said, wondering the reason for Sam’s interest in how she felt about this. Sam never struck her as a particularly sensitive boy.

“May I walk you to your next class? It’s history with Miss Hendrix, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is, Sam. That’s so sweet of you,” she said, suddenly pleased with the attention from this gangly boy.

“I think you may need someone with you,” he said.

Jane smiled, realizing that she certainly did need an escort through the halls of the urban high school, where fights could break out at any minute or she could face terrible harassment.

“I think you’re very pretty, Jane,” the boy said, as he deposited her at the door of Miss Hendrix’s room. “Do you need an escort to your next class, Jane?”

“Thank you, Sam, that’s very nice of you, but my girl friend Latoya will be doing that next hour,” Jane said, giving him a big smile, but not wanting to encourage him; she hardly knew the boy, and until now he hadn’t particularly impressed her. However, she told herself, he does have a nice smile.

Jane, of course, became the focus of everyone’s attention in the classroom, but Miss Hendrix paid no particular attention as Jane took the seat previously occupied by Jarod. Miss Hendrix had reached 40, but retained a cuteness, perhaps due to her slightly chubby body, and looked almost like a recent college graduate.

Though short, she had a commanding presence in the room, perhaps strengthened by her true interest in her topic, U.S. History, and she succeeded in spicing up her teaching with personal tidbits about the historical characters. That day she made Andrew Jackson come to life, taking some of the classroom attention off the new girl in class.

Latoya had the same classes for the rest of the morning until lunch hour; she accompanied Jane through the hallways, and her presence meant Jane suffered no more than glances and stares and some under-the-breath comments. There were scowls, she could see, on some; downright disgust from others.

Jane, wearing the skirt, walked with ease and comfort, assuming the feminine mannerisms that she had perfected through the years. It came so naturally, she told Latoya.

*****
A good half dozen girls staked out seats at the table of the one-time “Bad Girls” group, eager to welcome Jane, the new “girl” into the bunch. There was lots of “welcome, Jane,” “You’re so pretty today, Jane,” comments as Jane joined them. Aniesha and Tiffany, however, remained silent, almost pouting.

It bothered Jane; these two girls had been among her longest friends, and now they were snubbing her. Soon, however, Jane got carried away with the conversation at the table, and the snubs by Tiffany and Aniesha were put in the background of Jane’s mind

“I hate you,” Tiffany said, as Jane left to go to her first afternoon class. Tiffany always joined Jane in this walk, and Jane was hoping she would today.

“You hate me?” Jane said, softly, keeping the conversation between the two of them.

“You shoulda stayed a boy! This is so sick.”

“Oh Tiff, I just couldn’t. It didn’t feel right. I always felt more like a girl. You know, I always felt good with the girls here.”

“You could’ve told me,” she said. “Latoya knew. Why didn’t you tell me? Or Aniesha?”

“I couldn’t. My mom didn’t want me being a girl. But I can’t help it.”

“You didn’t tell me. You were so nice to take me to last year’s prom. You were so handsome in the tux.”

“I’m sorry, Tiffany, I just couldn’t tell you.”

Jane felt so bad that she hadn’t clued Tiffany or Aniesha into her secret. The price of deceit was beginning to mount up, she realized.

*****
It didn’t take long for Jane to realize that no matter how hard she tried she’d be a topic of discussion and the target of looks by the entire school. The word had gotten around, she was soon to hear, that there was “a boy in the school dressing like a girl.” No longer could she melt into the background of life and retreat from the critical eyes of others. She was now, in her own small way, often viewed as a celebrity, a notorious character or someone to be dismissed as a freak and curious mistake of nature.

The school day had ended without any major confrontations; no band of crude boys (and Roosevelt High was full of them) accosted her or pushed her into a corner to see what she had under her skirt. She was glad she wore a long skirt for the day, for she was always conscious of the need to be sure the skirt would not rise up too high on her thighs when she sat.

It was apparent, she was confident, that she was viewed by most in the school (who did not know otherwise) that what they were seeing was a genetic female, a real teen girl, her lovely slender arms and legs and pretty face attesting to her natural femininity.

“Oh, I can’t believe you used to be Jarod,” one girl said as she sat next to Jane in her final hour of classes, an elective course in English literature. “You really are so much a girl, Jane.”

Jane smiled, certain the girl meant that as a compliment.

“Now you can play the girl parts in Shakespeare, just like boys did in the old days,” she added.

“I know, but I like to think I am a girl, and therefore would not be allowed to act in theater in the Elizabethan times.”

The girl giggled, her quiet laughter brightening up her sprite-like face. She was called Ginger and she was a tiny girl with sinewy arms and legs; she had a plain face and was without the natural feminine curves; obviously she would develop those as she matured. Jane mused that the girl could easily be mistaken for a young boy, a thought that brought a smile to her face. She thought Ginger could easily pass as such a boy and gain a girl’s part in a play in the 1600s, as Gwyneth Paltrow did in the movie “Shakespeare in Love.”

Jane faced the same questions over and over during the day: “Are you the guy who . . ?” “Are you her?” She finally realized that just about every one in school wanted to see her, and her response usually was to simply state: “Hi, I’m Jane,” letting the questioner reach their own conclusion.

Latoya had a suggestion as the school day came to an end. While they walked from the final class, Jane complained about the stares and the crude questions she got.

“Why don’t you just go before the school assembly tomorrow and get up on stage and say: ‘I’m Jane,” and do one of your curtsies?” she said, laughing.

“I’m half tempted to,” Jane agreed, but realized that she was not quite ready for such a dramatic step.

“Jane, you have nothing to be ashamed of,” Latoya said as they went to their lockers. “You’re a perfectly pretty girl and you’re nice to everyone.”

Jane could only mutter, “Thanks.”

“By the way, Aniesha text-messaged Marquise at college and told him about you,” Latoya said.

“Oh, why did she do that? I wanted to tell him first.”

“You can’t blame her, Jane,” Latoya said. “She is still mad at you for not telling her sooner. You two were becoming such friends.”

“I know. Both Tiff and she won’t talk to me now.”

“They both had a crush on you. They liked you as Jarod.”

Jane was silent, not sure what to say. She had felt there had been a jealousy between the two girls for Jarod’s attention; in truth, she liked both girls, since they were smart and lovely and fun to be with. She wanted to be girl friends with both of them, and had no desire to be their boy friend; she never thought of herself as a boy, and felt so inadequate in the role of “boy friend.”

Latoya and Jane shut their locked almost in unison, and headed down the corridor to leave the school and walk home. Wanda was to join them at the exit and play escort for Jane on her first full day of school.

“What did Marquise say?” Jane finally asked, afraid to put too much emphasis on the question in order not to betray her feelings for the young man.

“He’s pissed at you, too,” she said. “I didn’t want to tell you all this at first.”

“He’s pissed at me?”

“Yes, what do you think? He’s a guy who thought you were a guy; now every one will think you two were gay or something.”

“We weren’t. We were only friends, ‘toya.”

“I know that, and it’s too bad you haven’t told him,” she said. “He’d think you’re the prettiest girl and certainly prettier than that Janita he’s been dating.”

Jane didn’t confess to her friend how often she thought about Marquise and imagined herself holding hands with him, kissing him, feeling his arms about her. She loved to think about how she’d run her hands up his strong arms and massage his masculine shoulders.

“I guess I lost him,” Jane said as the two met up with Wanda.

“We’re ready to head home,” Wanda said. “And Troy’s going to come along.”

Troy had been dating Wanda all through high school; they were an ideal couple, both athletic and handsome. Troy had been a two-sport athlete for the Roosevelt Vikings and had gained a football scholarship for the state university where he was expected to play quarterback.

Troy hugged Jane as they met and whispered in her ear: “You’re so lovely, Jane. Wanda and I are so proud of your courage.”

Even though it was one of those perfunctory hugs people often exchange, Jane felt a tinge of excitement during the brief encounter. Maybe Wanda sensed it, too, for she said quickly:

“Now watch it Troy. I’m watching you.”

Then she laughed, as if she was joking, but Jane wondered if she might have built up a bit of jealousy to her longtime friend. Jane certainly didn’t want to break the two up, since she owed so much to Wanda for her support all these years as she struggled through this period of confusion.

Troy and Latoya accompanied Wanda and Jane to the Five Corners area, and the group split up, Wanda and Jane continuing on to their neighborhoods.

“Thank you so much, Wanda,” Jane said.

“For what?”

“You know, helping me through this. I could never have gone in that first day as Jane without you being there, and for all this.”

“You’re my friend, and, now, finally, my girl friend. I always wanted you as a girl friend, you know that, honey,” she said, giving Jane a quick hug as they walked on.

“I’m sorry about that back there,” Jane said.

“Oh, you mean that hug?”

Jane nodded.

“Don’t bother, Jane. I’m mad at him, but I can’t really blame him; you’re so darn pretty.”

“Oh Wanda, you’re always so sweet.”

“I don’t even know why I got jealous back there. I keep telling myself I’m lesbian, so why should I care about who he looks at.”

“Well, you two are so close, Wanda. He really loves you, I’m sure.”

“Yes, I guess,” the other girl said. “But I’m so happy for you, Jane. I love you so much.”

“Thank you, Wanda.”

The two girls stopped for a while at Wanda’s house; no one was home, and Jane told Wanda about her concern over possibly losing the friendship of Aniesha and Tiffany, as well as that of Marquise.

They commiserated over tea for a while, did some brief hugging and kissing, before Jane went home, comforted by the love and friendship she found in Wanda and Latoya and others, but worried over the loss of other friends. Not everyone, it seemed, would take kindly to her new identity.

*****
Jane was exhausted when she got home, and she stripped down to her panties, removing her bra (with its breast forms) and putting on a chenille pink robe. She pinned her hair up, and before collapsing onto her bed she looked at herself in the mirror, feeling very much a girl.

She was about to doze, worrying that she would not awake in time to prepare supper for her parents, when she heard a rapping on the door. She roused herself and headed for the door when the second set of raps began.

“I’m coming,” she said, in her falsetto voice.

“It’s Amy.”

“OK, Amy, just a minute, but I look terrible.”

“That’s OK. So do I,” said Amy, who was the young mother who lived in the adjoining unit.

Jane opened the door to see Amy, dressed in jeans and a sweat shirt, her hair tied in a bun.

“Sorry to bother you, Jane, but I need someone to look after the girls for an hour ‘cause I need to get to the lawyer’s office to sign some papers,” Amy said.

“Oh, OK,” Jane said, still groggy from the half sleep.

“You look so tired, dear, I won’t bother you now,” she said. “I can take the girls with me.”

“No. No. No. I can handle it, Amy. I need to get up anyway. Can you bring them over here? I need to get supper going for mom and Jacques.”

“Sure if that’s OK, Jane? I told them that you’re now Jane, and they didn’t seem to understand, but they’ll have to see you as a girl from now on, right?”

“Oh yes, Amy. I want to be a girl friend for your girls, like I was when they were little. And, have them bring over their dolls, will you?”

“They’ll love that, Jane. I’m so happy for you, honey. Now you’re the girl you always felt you were.”

“Yes, and I am happy,”

“How did school go today?” Amy asked.

“Not too bad. I got a lot of looks and stares, but it’s OK. I felt really good in school now, as Jane.”

Jane quickly dressed in a beige Capri pants and a cami, covered with a white blouse; she put on ankle socks and pink tennis shoes and waited for Amy to drop off Emily and Amanda, the two girls, now 7 and 9 years old.

They were happy to see Jane, and each brought two dolls along; Jane enjoyed dressing and undressing the dolls with the girls, and the three giggled as they sat on the floor. Finally, Jane had to end the playtime, and she had the girls help her prepare the supper, set the table and clean the dining room area.

Amy was gone just about an hour, as she said, returning to find the three back on the floor, fussing with the dolls.

“Did you girls have fun?” Amy said as she picked them up to return home.

“Oh, yes,” Emily, the oldest said. “And we helped her prepare supper.”

“We love our Auntie Jane,” added Amanda.

Jane smiled. She was so happy being able once again to enjoy the two young girls as “Jane,” the older girl next door.

*****
“Jacques and I will clean up the dishes,” Nancy announced as the family, with their new daughter, completed supper. “Jane, you may go and relax in your room, and put on something comfy if you wish.”

“Oh I can help, mother,” Jane said.

“No you won’t,” Jacques said in a faux anger tone. “You will relax. You have had a long day.”

Jane, recognizing that her parents had made a firm decision, quickly obeyed, feeling a bit at loose ends following a day that brought her face-to-face with constant uncertainties, coupled with the possibility of terrors that thankfully never happened, following by rewarding joys.

“No gain without pain,” she thought, having heard that term often from her onetime cross country coach when the pain of running reached almost intolerable levels.

She pulled out the play they were studying in English literature, “Hamlet,” where she had identified closely with Ophelia, the young lady whose love for the handsome, but hesitant Hamlet, went unrequited. She was reading the part where Ophelia’s body was found floating in the river, a sad conclusion to her adoration for Shakespeare’s Prince of Denmark.

Was her love for Marquise to be similarly rejected, she wondered? She had developed fantasies about their life together over the last three years, picturing herself (having outed herself as a girl) many times in the arms of this handsome, trim young man. Did Marquise ever know of her love for him? Was he now, even as she lay on her tummy, booked opened up before her, the pages unseen by her teary eyes, in the arms of the hated Janita?

Her musing was interrupted when Jacques rapped on his door, and asked: “Are you decent, Jane?”

“Oh yes, I’m still dressed, dad,” she answered, smiling, so pleased to realize her stepfather was acknowledging that she was a girl, and therefore he would no longer walk in on her as he might have for his son.

Jacques entered and sat down on Jane’s desk chair, as she turned one to her side, tucking her legs back, looking sweet. Soon, her mother appeared at the door, sitting on the side of her bed, touching and gently caressing Jane’s slender right arm.

“Jane, this is Peter’s weekend to be with me,” Jacques began, referring to his 17-year-old-son who lived with his mother, except for visits with Jacques.

“Yes, it’s your weekend, dad.”

“You know, Peter tells me you two get along well together, Jane, but he knows you only as Jarod.”

“I know, dad, but I’m Jane.”

His mother interrupted, offering a clarifying question: “Jane, Jacques wants to know if you’re ready to be Jane with Peter? Or, should he come up with some excuse to head him off?”

Jane smiled, a bit of panic entering her stomach, realizing that her life a Jane would be a constant stress as she introduced herself to friends and acquaintances.

“Oh mom and dad,” Jane said. “He’ll have to know Jane; better now than later.”

“I thought you’d say that, but I wonder if I should tell Peter in advance about Jane,” Jacques said.

“Sure why not?” Jane said. “If he is uncomfortable with it, then let him decide not to come, dad.”

“I thought you’d say that, Jane,” he said. “You’re a strong young lady.”

It was no surprise to Jane that Peter, when told about Jane, decided to come for the weekend. Jane was excited about meeting her stepbrother now that she would be considered a stepsister.

*****
“Well, Jane, it doesn’t look like you and Peter will be able to sleep in the same room now,” Nancy Pinkerton said, as they prepared for Jacques to bring Peter home. Jacques was to stop to pick up his son and bring him down to Douglas from Milwaukee after he ended work on Friday.

Jane blushed at the thought. In Peter’s previous visits, a cot had been set up in Jarod’s bedroom and the two boys spent much of their time together; strangely they seemed to hit it off. Peter was a passive, phlegmatic boy, never having shown much initiative. Jacques claimed the boy had been devastated by his parent’s divorce.

“His mother just lets him lay around,” Jacques said one night at the supper table.

“Be fair, Jacques,” Nancy said, often seemingly putting herself in the strange position of defending the ex-wife. “She works fulltime, and really doesn’t have much time.”

“Nancy, you work fulltime, too, and yet you’ve been able to stay close to Jane, and she doesn’t lack any motivation,” Jacques argued.

“Peter’s your son, Jacques. Maybe if we encourage him he’ll respond,” she said.

In the nearly five months that Jacques and Nancy were married, Peter had spent about five visits in the house with Jane; however, all those visits were with Jarod. The two boys found common interest in music, some video games (Peter was more practiced at that) and in just plain talking.

“Peter’s really interested in politics, mom,” Jane told her mother as they were setting up the cot in the room that had been using as a combination office and sewing room.

“He is? I hope he’s on our side,” Nancy responded.

“Mostly he is, mom. We’re both looking at this guy Obama from Illinois. He’s kinda cool.”

“Yes, he is, Jane, but why don’t you like Hillary?” she asked referring to Hillary Clinton who was at that time still favored for be the Democratic nominee for President.

“Us girls have to stick together,” his mother added with a smile.

“I suppose I should, mom, but Obama is so young and smart, and, he’s kinda cute.”

Jane blushed. Nancy had learned that her new daughter had a dream boy, Marquise, who was a younger version of the dynamic young man from Illinois. Both light-complexioned and trim and athletic; only Marquise didn’t have the big ears of Obama, she mused.

Peter was a big lunk of a boy and he arrived wearing oversized jeans that rode low on his hips, and a hooded sweatshirt. In a sense, he was a carbon copy of the boys in his big-city high school. He shuffled his feet as he walked, and rarely looked up, but then that was typical of so many teens, Jacques told Nancy. She recalled, however, that in the previous visits, the boy seemed to open up after a few minutes, and his conversation became surprisingly articulate and intelligent.

“Peter’s a smart boy, Jacques,” she had told her husband.

His arrival that Friday was no different than before; he shuffled in, murmured a muffled “Hi,” but then stopped and stared at Jane, who stood erect in the living room, wearing a plaid, pleated skirt, a white blouse, coffee-colored hose, and sandals with short heels; her hair was in pigtails, tied high up on her head.

“Hi, Peter,” Jane said, giving him a slight curtsey. Her voice was soft and sweet, though in a low tone.

“Jarod . . . ah . . . Jane,” he said. His mouth had dropped open.

“Meet our daughter Jane,” Nancy said, winking at her husband.

“Hi Peter, nice to see you again,” Jane said, walking over to him and taking his gym bag, obviously stuffed with his clothes for the weekend.

The boy stood there transfixed, finally moving to follow Jane into the combination room where he was to sleep for the weekend visit.

Nancy moved next to her husband, who wore a dark suit, seemingly tailored to his trim frame, and welcomed an arm, which drew her next to him. She smiled.

“I don’t think Peter knows quite what to make of all this,” Nancy said.

“Right, Nance,” he said using the affectionate form of the name that he favored. “I told him she was a very pretty girl, and that he should treat her like any boy would treat a sister.”

“Do you think he can accept this?”

“I think so, Nance, but if he doesn’t Jane will charm him into it,” Jacques said. “She’s good at that.”

“Oh Jacques, I’m so happy for her now,” Nancy said. “In spite of all the difficulties in school with the change, she’s so happy now, and she’s coming out of her shell.”

Her husband kissed her, as the couple heard a giggle emerge for the combination room, a girlish giggle coming from their new daughter, followed by a rougher laugh from Peter.

“I think the two will do just fine together,” Jacques said.

“Unless they fight like all brothers and sisters do,” Nancy said, still smiling.

*****
That weekend convinced Jane that her stepbrother was unhappy and felt his life was going nowhere. The two had spent hours talking over the weekend, usually in the combination room where Jane worked haphazardly on a dress she was making for herself and Peter aimlessly played a game on the computer.

“I’ve never had a date, Jane,” he confessed. “I didn’t go to my junior prom and now this is my senior year and I’ve never even kissed a girl.”

“You’ve kissed me,” Jane teased.

“Yeah, but you’re my sister and that doesn’t count.”

For her part, Jane said that she was not sure how she would act if a boy ever asked her on a date. “I’ve dreamed about it so much,” she said. “But it wouldn’t be fair to him, ‘cause I’m still not all girl.”

“Yeah, I guess, but you’re so pretty, Jane, I’ll bet you get lots of dates.”

“But should I tell him I still got that boy thing before we go out?”

“Oh, I dunno,” Peter said, shaking his head. “You can kiss him and just keep your legs together.”

“Oh that’s no help,” Jane giggled. “I’m not strong enough to fight off a boy who wants to play around.”

“Jane, except for that cock, no one can see you’re a boy. Really, girl.”

“Peter, you’re so sweet,” Jane said a bit later. “I’ll tell you what: I’m going to help you get a girl.”

“How? I don’t want any blind dates,” he said. “That’s only for losers.”

Peter laughed, and added: “Guess that means me.”

But Jane quickly protested: “No, no, Peter. No one is a loser. Really? No one is a loser. We all have our own charms, honey, and you have plenty. Believe me.”

“I do?” The boy responded, not fully believing his stepsister’s words.

*****
Jane convinced Peter that he should join her that Saturday afternoon for a meeting of a group, calling itself “Peace at Roosevelt,” that was meeting at the Community Center. Her friend Tiffany had been instrumental in bringing together a group of Roosevelt High School students who had been concerned at growing violence at the school, particularly among rival gangs, often ethnically based. There were the Black Knights and the Gunmetals, two rival groups of African-American students, fighting each other, and then the Conquistadors, a group of Hispanic students, followed by the Guerrillas, a group of Southeast Asian students. Finally, there was the Snow Devils, a White supremacist group.

Not only had there been threats and challenges thrown between the ethnic groups, but there was also harassment of those students perceived to be gay. So far, except for the attack on Jane, there had been no other physical attacks.

Jane knew Peter shared her interest in justice and equality; Peter was a gentle soul, who was very much like herself, in that he believed each person deserved a chance. The two realized that they hated to see people abused for any reason, whether it be for their looks or their beliefs or their race or religion.

At first Jane was uncertain about going to the meeting, particularly since Tiffany, and Aniesha who would most certainly also be there, had soured on their friendship. Yet, as she told Peter, “I think I should be there. After all, I am a victim of some of these attacks, and I think it’s important that we stand up and be counted.”

“I won’t know anybody there, Jane,” he protested.

“Don’t worry, all of the people there are nice,” she said. “They’ll welcome another boy and especially from the big city.”

“I don’t know. I’ll just stay home,” he said.

“No you won’t. Your little sister wants to show you off.”

On Saturday morning, Jane got Peter to wash his hair and take a long shower. Then, sitting in her nightie, she dried his long light brown hair, which hung to his shoulders. She brushed it, and formed it into a slight pompadour at the top, and sprayed it to put in nice hold upon it.

“Is that all you got to wear?” Jane asked, spying the oversized jeans he was wearing.

“Yes,” he admitted.

“They’re gross,” Jane said, summoning her mother and suggesting they run down to Target to get Peter some new jeans and perhaps a nice shirt.

*****
“This is my brother, Peter, from Milwaukee,” Jane said, as the two entered the meeting room at the community center.

Jane and Peter arrived a few minutes after 2 p.m., just as the meeting was about to begin. Tiffany, seated at the head table, with Aniesha off to one side, near the head table, scowled at the entering brother and sister.

“We’re starting now, Jarod,” she said, staring directly at Jane.

“Hi everyone, I’m Jane Pinkerton,” she announced, “And this is Peter, my brother.”

There were perhaps 15 others in the room, all girls, except for Samuel Ostering, the tall gangly boy from her advanced geometry class. He looked relieved to see Peter in the room, waving at the other boy.

Jane was pleased to see that Tiffany’s snit with her was short-lived; the other girl got the meeting started in a very business-like manner. Several of the participants were members of the “Bad Girls” club of the previous school year. Besides Aneisha, there were only three other African-American students present, and no Hispanics.

The group stumbled around for most of an hour, and several students got restless, and we about to bolt the room, when Jane got up:

“Look, we all care about Roosevelt, and we all must thank Tiffany and Aniesha for bringing us together. We all agree on one point: There should be peace at Roosevelt. We’re calling ourselves PAR, Peace at Roosevelt. Let’s set up a plan.”

Tiffany looked, with gratitude at Jane, realizing she had saved the day. The group set up a plan, involving recruiting people from all of the ethnic groups in the school, plus the gay groups. It was agreed they would inform the Principal about the plan, but that they wanted to do it without faculty participation.

“You’ll have better luck, if they think it’s not run by the teachers or the principals,” Peter interjected at one point. He described how a similar group had settled things down at his high school in Milwaukee. “There were no teachers around and that helped.”

After the group ended, Tiffany came forward to Peter: “Thank you for coming, Peter. You were very helpful.”

Peter merely blushed.

“Really, you helped put this in perspective and now we have an idea that we can do some good.”

Peter shook his head: “No, I thought Jane did that!”

Tiffany scowled. “Well, she helped, I guess.”

Peter, knowing of Tiffany’s problems with Jane, quickly offered to take Tiffany, Aniehsa and Jane to the Coffee House for a post mortem on the meeting. The girls all agreed.

At the coffee house, Jane noticed that Tiffany seized the initiative, sliding in next to Peter at the booth, leaving Jane and Aniesha to share the opposite seat. There was a moment of tension as the three girls refused to acknowledge each other, but it was broken by Peter, who said quickly: “What a powerful threesome you all make. I think you’ll do wonders.”

“Really, we didn’t have too many people there today, and Sam was the only boy, I guess, not counting you Peter, ‘cause you’re not from here.” It was Tiffany speaking.

“Yes, you three make a tough group,” he said, hoping that Tiffany and Aniesha would soon renew their friendship with Jane.

After a while, the awkward situation remedied itself, largely because both Tiffany and Aniesha began focusing their attention on Peter. The three girls were all giggling as they finally left the coffee shop.

“I’m going to rescue my brother from you two girls,” Jane said, as they all headed to the car. Peter borrowed his father’s car and agreed to drive the girls to their homes. Jane quickly assumed the front seat, thus avoiding any dispute among the other two as to who would sit in front with Peter.

As each girl slid out of the back seat and were dropped off, they expressed great pleasure in meeting Peter and gave Jane a girlish kiss, saying, “See ya’ Monday, Jane.”

“Love ya’” was Jane’s easy response in both cases.

Jane smiled as Peter headed home, realizing her stepbrother’s male charm was helping to renew her friendship with both Tiffany and Aniesha.

“I think they both like you, Peter,” she said.

Peter, who was not used to getting attention from girls, blushed. “They’re both very nice,” he said. “And thanks to you, Jane, you made me look pretty good.”

“You have your own charm, Peter,” she said.

That night, as they talked during the commercials of the movie they were watching together, Peter wondered whether he should ask either Tiffany or Aniesha for a date. “I’m afraid they’ll say ‘no.’”

“Hardly, Peter,” Jane said. “They’d jump at the chance.”

It had been a full and rewarding day for both of them; their parents went to dinner, leaving the two teens home to fix their own supper, and Jane took particular joy in preparing her favorite dish, lasagna, while Peter proved adept at keeping her company.

This innocent teenage romancing stirred Jane’s thoughts of Marquise, causing her to wonder if she’d ever see him again, whether he’d even call when he came home from college for either the Thanksgiving or Christmas holidays, or whether he was back with Janita, accepting her charms. She cried that night for a while, musing over her fate with Marquise. She now knew what it was like to be a girl in love.

Chapter 34: A Girl’s Life

“You are the prettiest girl we’ve ever had enter our office,” Grace said, looking up from her computer as Jane and her mother entered the office of Dr. Eugene Martin.

Jane blushed, and managed to mumble a “thank you” to the doctor’s office assistant.

It would be Jane’s first visit to the psychiatrist since she had begun living fulltime as a girl two weeks earlier. Since it was a frigid January day, Jane wore slacks, a heavy tan coat with faux fur trim and a hood, along with snow boots. Even that heavy clothing could not hide her sheer femininity.

Dr. Martin was astonished when Jane and her mother entered his office. “You are absolutely so real, dear Jane,” he said. “You seem so comfortable as Jane.”

Despite intense questioning, the doctor was unable to find any sign that Jane was sorry about the transition she had done so far. And Jane was pleased to hear her mother confirm that her child had never seemed as happy as she was since assuming the identity of Jane.

“She’s just a natural, doctor.”

He ordered another complete physical for Jane, after which he would prescribe hormone treatment.

“Some transgendered persons change more quickly that others under hormones, and we’ll just have to see,” he said.

He confirmed that Jane should continue to live as a female, and to not attempt to backtrack to her onetime male identity. “If you feel the urge to resume wearing male clothes or to assume the male role, please call me immediately so that we can talk it over,” he said.

“This is still a period of trial, Jane, to see if you can follow through into your new life,” he said.

“I know, doctor, but I’m sure.”

The doctor agreed to write a firm letter, acknowledging his opinion that Jarod Pinkerton has assumed a female identity due to being an acknowledged transsexual. He said all authorities should acknowledge her female gender in so far as the law permitted.

“By the time she’s 18,” Dr. Martin said, “We’ll be able to know for sure whether she should eventually get sexual assignment surgery, as well as facial surgery and breast enhancements to aid in her female gender identity.”

Jane and her mother agreed that the doctor’s course of action made sense.

“I can hardly wait ‘til I’m 18,” Jane said.

“I feel Jane is my daughter, doctor, just as she is, but it would be great if she can some day be a complete woman,” Nancy said.

“You mean, mom, like I can have a baby, too?” Jane followed the comment with a tiny giggle.

“Don’t be silly, you know that’ll never happen,” Nancy said.

“But you and your husband some day can adopt,” the doctor added.

On the way home, Jane’s imagination took hold of her: she pictured herself with Marquise, two toddlers in hand, walking along a park path on a fresh June morning in the lush green of early summer. It was such a pretty picture, particularly since Jane was looking up into the eyes of her husband. Is it too much to expect in life?

*****
The Douglas Police Department was present everyday at the beginning of school at Roosevelt. Some days there were two and three DPD squads out front, and uniformed officers stood by, watching all the entrants closely. It was an unhappy sign: cell phones were now forbidden within the school, no visitors were permitted on the grounds and the lines at the metal detectors had grown maddeningly long, causing many first hour classes to begin late. Every exit was equipped with loud alarms to discourage students from sneaking out or, more importantly, letting in drug dealers and pimps who were hanging around the area.

“It’s like a police state here, now,” Tiffany muttered to Jane one cold January morning. Since the meeting of the PAR group, the two girls, along with Aniesha, had mended their friendships. Latoya had told Tiffany and Aniesha of Jane’s long struggle in seeking to realize her femininity.

“I know, but it seems the fights have ended and there may even be less harassment,” Jane replied.

“You’re not being hassled much any more?” Tiffany asked.

“Not too much, but then I don’t seem too mind it anymore,” Jane said.

The truth was, however, Jane was bothered by the almost daily confrontations she faced over her new identity. She longed for the day when she would only be recognized as a female, and where her former male life would be unknown.

Her parents had discussed moving to Milwaukee, where Jane could be enrolled in the ACES School, and a high school for exceptional students that had been developed to provide a safe place for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered students. After all, Jacques business, Claudine’s Apparels, was in Milwaukee and Peter attended school there. Jacques said he had been looking at some attractive homes along the lakefront.

“I don’t want to leave Roosevelt, mom and dad,” Jane protested.

“Why honey?” he mother asked. “You’d be in a safe place.”

“I don’t know, but I don’t want to miss my friends here. And I’m not bothered too much now.”

“We’ll still think about it, Jane,” Jacques said. “I realize your mother has a job here in Douglas, and I like it here, too, but we want you to be safe, honey.”

“But, mom and dad, our PAR group is just getting under way, and I so much want to save Roosevelt,” Jane said. “It’s our school.”

“I don’t understand your allegiance to such a place,” Nancy said.

“I don’t either, mom, but it’s my school,” Jane responded, realizing her feelings seemed to have no logical explanation.

*****
Jane and her mother became even closer as the school year went on. It continued to be customary that Jane, who got home before her parents most days, prepared supper, a chore that the teen girl relished. Jane loved the “oldies” of her mother’s generation, and played CDS softly in the background, often humming along. While her voice retained a bit of male huskiness, she had cultivated a sweet warm tone that her stepfather had told her was “captivating.”

More than once Jane put on a long, dark violet evening gown with a plunging neckline and split skirt, fashioning herself as a chanteuse. The family’s next-door neighbor, Amy Tankersley, found Jane doing her mock performance one afternoon and persuaded Jane to perform that night before her parents.

“You’re a picture of sultry sensuality,” Amy gushed.

“No, Amy. Not me,” Jane protested, but in reality she knew that she had achieved the femininity she had long desired.

It also soon became the custom that Saturday’s were mother-daughter days, since Jacques worked at the store those days. They awoke late, lounged around in nighties and robes, eventually enjoying a later breakfast, often joined by one or more of their neighbors, including Amy and occasionally Wanda and her mother Helen.

Jane loved these Saturday sessions, with their girl talk about fashions, or new foods, or their jobs, or their men, or sometimes their lack of men in their lives. In her previous life, she had wanted to share in these female gatherings, but usually felt out of place due to her then confused gender state of mind.

Amy, in particular complained about not finding a “decent man,” with the other women giggling over a comment almost always made in unison: “Let me know when you find one.”

In the afternoon, mother and daughter were off to do something special, sometimes shopping at the mall, other times going to one of the museums in the area and always stopping at a chic tea room which had been developed on a bluff overlooking the lake. The tea room was an anomaly in the area, but it was located close enough to the affluent sections of town, to attract a regular clientele. Jane and her mother were usually the youngest persons in the place, which seemed to be populated by neatly coiffured ladies of the grandmother generation.

It was a dainty, frilly place which featured dainty, frilly pastries, which looked calorie-free, but in reality were chock full.

“Mother,” she said one Saturday, “I feel like Lady Jane in the tea room.”

“My darling, you are Lady Jane in my eyes, and in the eyes of the ladies in this room,” Nancy said. “They all look you over, muttering how divine you look.”

“Oh mother,” she said, seeming to disdain the compliment.

The truth was, however, that she pictured herself as a dainty, fragile feminine creature; such extreme femininity, she believed, was basic to her nature.

As the school year went on, the mother-daughter relationship grew to the point that each one considered the other to be their “best friend.” Jane soon realized this tight relationship developed because her mother was afraid to let loose of her daughter, recognizing the girl’s sheer beauty would be whetting the desires and juices of teen boys as well as adult men.

Nancy informed her daughter that there would be a “no date” rule in effect in the household until further notice.

“You’re hardly able to defend yourself, darling, and you never know how some boy would act when he learns you still have your penis,” she said.

Jane nodded, and put up no protest since she was fearful of how to act with a boy, and basically felt naíve over the female role. Besides, she still considered herself in love with Marquise, about whom she mused in ecstasy most nights as she tried to sleep.

“Mother, I love you,” she said. She felt comfort being within the protection of her mother.

*****
Jane became busy during the school year, working hard with the PAR group that held once a week meetings after school to discuss their strategies. She assumed the editorship of Odyssey, the school literary magazine, and that consumed two more after-school period a week for six weeks until publication deadline of early December.

Except for occasional gawking or crude comments made sotto voc, Jane seemed to be accepted as a teen girl, her onetime boyhood forgotten. The presence of police in the halls and on the school grounds, along with added security, had brought an uneasy peace to the school.

“I hate all this cop stuff,” lamented Aniesha at a PAR meeting in late October.

“But it’s keeping the school safe,” argued Tiffany.

“There’s still gangs and people hating each other,” Sam Ostering said. He was still the only boy among the ten students who composed the active members of PAR.

Jane agreed, urging the group to develop a plan to help begin to break down these hatreds. Though Tiffany had convened the group originally, it was Jane who offered leadership and who urged a course of action. “What do you think, Jane?” was asked more than once.

The plan was finally developed. It called for identifying the key groups (or gangs) in the school and seeking out the leaders of each group. The PAR group would try to talk to the leaders separately over the month of November, seeking to learn each group’s issues; they would invite the group leaders to join PAR, but they doubted any would, since it would mark them as “wimps.”

Next, the PAR group decided some form of education plan was needed, in which kids themselves talked to kids about violence. “It’s no good coming from teachers or the principal,” Jane said, gaining full agreement.

“You mean we gotta talk to those gang leaders? Asked Tiffany. “I don’t know about that. Wouldn’t that be dangerous?”

“Maybe, but it’s our only chance,” Jane said. In truth, she was frightened of the idea, but once she proposed it, she felt she would have to go through with it.

At the following meeting of PAR, Sam mentioned he had told his parents about the group’s ideas. They applauded the idea, he said, and suggested he contact a Professor Angleton at the local branch of the State University. “He’s a good friend of mine,” his father said, “And I know he has an anger management program there.”

“He’s willing to meet with us next week,” he said.

Professor Angleton, a tall African-America man, clean-shaven and balding, told the group they were headed in the right direction. “I have a grant I can use to help you out, but I need to get approval of the principal, first,” he told them.

Mrs. Jones was aware the group was meeting, and she let them continue, even though there was no faculty advisor involved. The professor joined Tiffany and Jane in meeting with the principal, who readily agreed to continue the process. Jane, as it happened, did most of the talking, since the plan was largely hers.

“It’s great you students are doing this,” the principal said. “Because district rules require a school adviser, I’m assigning Mr. Cummings, Jane. You know, the cross country coach and PE teacher. You liked him.”

“Yes, he’ll be fine,” Jane replied, adding, “But he’s got to stay in the background. This can’t be viewed as coming from the teachers or you, Mrs. Jones.”

The principal smiled, impressed with Jane’s direct and firm language.

Thus, the Peace at Roosevelt campaign began, kicked off by a lead article in Odyssey, written by Jane, citing Ghandi, Nelson Mandela, Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and Cesar Chavez.

*****
By the start of the second semester, all of the groups had been approached. As expected none joined PAR. All but one of the group leaders, a boy by the name of Emil “Butch” Czaczyk of the White Knights, agreed to participate in the anger management sessions. There was a debate in the group whether to pursue the group, largely since they had shown signs of being uncompromising white supremacists.

“They don’t have too many members,” commented Aniesha.

“But they make lot of noise,” Jane responded. “I’ll try to talk to Butch. Anyone wanna join me?”

“Don’t be silly Jane. Those guys’ll beat you up, sure as you’re sitting here,” protested Tiffany.

“I think it’s worth a try. I’ll do it on my own,” Jane said.

The group was silent for a moment before Sam finally opened up: “Jane, I’ll go with you.”

They all looked at Sam; he was slender and not very imposing. He was the typical nerd who likely could never hold his own in any physical altercation. He looked scared as he volunteered.

“I’ll do it, Jane,” he persisted. “I’ll go with you.”

*****
Jane and Sam located Butch the next Tuesday afternoon at the end of the school day, finding him outside with a bunch of his cronies. With the large police presence at the school, Jane felt relatively safe in bounding right into the midst of the group, Sam right behind.

“Butch, you need to talk to me,” she demanded.

“Ah the fag is here and the other sissy fag, too,” mocked one of the boys.

“Yeah let’s reach up her skirt and see what kinda balls she has,” said another.

“You wanna see?” Jane said firmly (yet with fear mounting). “It’ll cost you.”

The boys all laughed, and began to push her slightly, but not enough to alert the police who were eyeing up the group.

“Push me once again and I’ll scream,” Jane said, again displaying a bravado she did not feel. “What would it look like? You big bullies picking on a girl?”

“You’re no girl,” Butch said. “You’re a fucking fag.”

“My school ID now says ‘female,’” Jane said.

“Whaddaya want?” Butch finally said, knowing that they dare not take a chance in beating up Jane or her friend with the police watching.

“You care about finishing school here, Butch?” she asked. She had drawn Butch away from the group and continued the conversation out of earshot of the others.

“Yeah, what about it?”

Jane knew Butch had good grades and was the son of a conservative businessman in town who wanted his son to go to college.

“It wouldn’t do you any good to get kicked out,” Jane said quickly. “We need you to come talk to PAR about your group.”

“What if I don’t?”

“They’re cracking down on gangs, and you don’t want to get kicked out, Butch,” Jane argued. “We’re only trying to help make Roosevelt better.”

“It’d be better once we get the n-----s and s---s and gays outa here,” he said.

“They’re here to stay, Butch, and you better learn to live with it,” Jane said. “Come join us.”

Jane invited him to talk about the White Knights at the next PAR meeting the following week. “I won’t show up,” he said, but Jane felt he likely would.

“That was a gutsy thing to do Jane,” Sam said as they walked away. “They could have deep-sixed us in a second.”

Jane let out of long breath, finally steadied herself. “I know, I was scared stiff,” she said. “What girl wouldn’t be?”

Butch didn’t show up at the following week’s PAR meeting, but he did hunt Jane down one day as she walked to the cafeteria, asking for more information about PAR. Away from the group he really wasn’t such a bad guy, except for his racist and sexist attitudes. He agreed to come to one meeting, which he did several weeks later, putting in a rather perfunctory appearance.

PAR struggled most of that year, failing to put together the anger management training because the groups still were uneasy about meeting one another; yet, it seemed their violence was toned down.

*****
“You know, Jane, I can’t figure you out,” Sam said as they talked after a PAR meeting as the school year neared an end.

“Why? I was born into a boy’s body but I’m a girl. What’s to figure out?” Jane said. The two had lingered in the classroom where they held the meetings after the others had left.

“Not that,” he said. “I get that.”

“What then?”

“It’s just that when you were a boy, you were scared of everything, so shy, and now that you’re a girl, you’re not afraid of anything,” he said.

“Oh, I get plenty scared,” she said.

“But you stand up to be counted. You’d never do that before; as a boy you were such a wimp, and as a girl . . . well . . . it’s like you’re courageous. You got strength you never had.”

Jane was silent for a minute, finally saying: “I never thought of it that way.”

“Maybe, just maybe, now that you’re really who you are, that you’re a girl, you’re comfortable with yourself, you know yourself.”

“Yes,” Jane said. “I am comfortable being Jane. Maybe you’re right.”

Yes, Jane thought that night, living now as Jane was all she needed to become a strong person and someone who had a future ahead.

(To be Continued)