The Way Things Happen - Part 5

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Continuing the Story of Jenny Holland

The Way Things Happen

Part 5
Jennifer Christine
Copyright © 2010 Jennifer Christine

 
 
The end of the holidays

Part5

When I got home, dad was home early and had some more news about the move and it looked really set in concrete. We would be moving to South East Queensland early in March.
“So we’ll get our glad rags on and head out for the evening, I feel the need to celebrate and I think you have one or two things you need to celebrate too my little angel,” he put his arm round me and gave me such a hug. I looked up at him and the look in his eye was unfathomable.
“What?” I had no idea what he meant.

My vision was interrupted by a manilla envelope with my name typed on the front.
Mum was holding it and as I reached up she moved it out of my reach. “Shower and change first then you get to read it.”
“Aw come one, what is it?” I looked at it in mum’s hand but I couldn’t read the logo in the corner.
“Change.”
Never in the field of human shampooing has so much been cleaned in so short a time by someone so clumsy. I went over in my mind what it could be. Name change? Hospital booking? — wait and see I guess.

20 mins later I was front and centre just as Nigel came through the door. “Hi all, whazzup?” he gathered we were all heading somewhere but due to his usual lack of communication, he hadn’t been included in the invite.

“If you want to come out for a meal, you have ten minutes to get ready”. Mum offered.
“Thanks anyway, I’m headed out to the disco with a new girlfriend so I’ll let you play on your own tonight.” He grinned and gave me a hug as he passed. I was getting to quite like him even if he was a bit distant.

Dad piped up before he got out of earshot, “Just to let you know Nige, we’ve got a moving date of 12th March, by which time, you’ll be safely ensconced in the arms of your loving gran and pop. I’ll give you the details later.

By this time I’d just about lost it. “Where’s that envelope? I wanna see what’s in it.”
Mum laughed and passed it to me logo first — Somerset House… a light came on in my head. I looked at mum and dad and my eyes flooded, “Bi..irth Cert..tif.ic.ate?” I could hardly speak. I carefully opened the envelope and there inside was a covering letter and my new birth certificate with my new name on it and written in the sex column — ‘girl’

I screamed so loud Nigel yelled upstairs “What in God’s name was that? Stop beating my little sister you fiends” followed by a sort of thunder as he came running downstairs. He arrived at the door in his underwear — well just his underpants actually — a nice shade of aqua — quite hip for a guy. “Everything Ok?”

“Jenny just got her new Birth Certificate. She’s officially a real girl now.”
Nigel relaxed and retired back to changing for his date. I hope my boyfriend doesn’t wear Y fronts… I wanted a nice hip guy like my brother…. MY GOD! What was I saying?

“Can I phone Carol and Wendy?” — I had to tell the news….. how girly is that?
“Yes but be quick” — In the next minute screams could be heard in two streets nearby — and questions were asked by various parents and neighbours about child abuse and phone stalkers. Then we went out.

The meal was splendid and even though I ate quite a lot, I didn’t overdo it, so I went to bed and lay there thinking about the beaches and sun I would be absorbing on them in the near future. I didn’t realise that Queensland winters weren’t that warm, but they were warmer than here…. Life was full of new things — no time for depression or anxiety.
Sure….

Friday — only 4 days til I go to school — and so much to do — like books and homework, except I didn’t have any carryovers to do or assignments or anything like that — all I really had to do was buy some pens and pencils and stuff like that. I decided that I could get all that stuff this morning as I lay thinking about the day ahead and the chance that I might get to be with Mark. My tummy did a flip and my hand strayed to my soft breasts and my hardening nipples. Oh God! What am I doing?
I jerked my hand away and turned onto my front, gasping at the thoughts that had entered my head — I guess I’m a heterosexual girl all right!

I was into the shower with the water on decidedly cool as fast as I could get there. But that almost made it worse so I put it on softer and a bit warmer so it didn’t make my skin pucker. Ten minutes later I was sitting over a cup of coffee with my hair in a turban and my robe over some nice underwear.

“Mu-umm, I’m going to need some information about my emotions, or is that putting it too bluntly? How am I supposed to feel when a guy kisses me? What do I do to stop myself giving myself to him? I feel overwhelmed by the feelings inside me — it’s hard to control — I never realised I would be so vulnerable or so wanton. I feel like someone has hypnotised me and made me into a Seductress and it’s my job to get him into my bed. It feels really weird.”

Mum looked at me with her eyebrows somewhere up near her hairline and the spatula in her hand dripping oil onto the cooktop. “I can see we need ‘the talk’ don’t we petal?” She turned back to the stove as dad stepped into the kitchen and dropped the paper onto the table. “How are my two favourite ladies this morning?” he reached his arm round my shoulder then sat next to me, giving me a warm cheerful smile. “So what did you think of our moving plan then? Ready to give those Aussie surfers some hell?”

According to the map and photos I’d seen, the Gold coast of Queensland was going to be about 20 minutes away by car and we’d be living in a beautiful suburb with leafy roads and landscaped lawns. Nothing like the impression you’d get from the average Australian show like “The Flying Doctor” or “The Thornbirds”. “Neighbours” hadn’t arrived in UK at that point so I had no idea. I had thought we’d be living in Dusty Hicksville with a clapboard pub down the street and Kangaroos you had to dodge to get to school.

It looked like something out of Los Angeles or even the South of France — Bright sunshine and green hills. I looked at dad and smiled, “Oh daddy what shall I do? So many men and so little time.” Giving him the full Gone With the Wind treatment. He playfully rubbed my turban which immediately fell onto my lap, my hair uncoiling like a wet snake. “Gee thanks Pop.”

Dad looked at me and I saw a sparkle in his eye, “You’re getting to be very, very beautiful darling, I hope I can fend off all those guys at least for enough time to enjoy your company for a year or two more.” He nearly brought a tear to my eye.

Mum broke the spell with a pair of plates. “I think it’s about time you did some of the breakfasts miss, I’m getting a bit bored doing this every morning.”

“You wouldn’t want to send daddy off to work with indigestion would you?” I rolled my eyes and tried to downplay the fact that I was still avoiding cooking at breakfast time. Personally I was getting to enjoy having a bowl of Weetabix and some fruit — except that mum kept to the eggs and toast as a better way to start the day. Dad didn’t have any paunch so I guess the balance was ok!

When I rang Wendy, she said she’d be happy to point out the things we needed for school and we decided to meet in town.

“Meet me at B&Q (hardware store) I’ll be there at ten. I’ll bring Carol too, I’m sure she hasn’t got the rest of her stuff yet,” that had me puzzled — why the hardware store?…

“Ok, see you there” I put the phone down and stood there a minute trying to work out what we’d want in the hardware. “Mu-um, why would we go to the hardware store for school stuff?”

“Wait and see,” came the reply — I could actually hear her grinning.
I shrugged and went and got ready — Jeans and sneakers since it was a non-girlie day.

I got off the bus in the centre and walked the short distance to the DIY centre, where B&Q were situated. The girls were checking out the garden furniture when I arrived — checking it out for size that is, they were sat there as if it was their garden they were in. They jumped up all smiles when they saw me. Two minutes early — “You only need to wait for five more minutes and you’ll be a regular girl — a couple of minutes late.” Carol joshed and gave me a hug.

I smiled and said, “that makes you regular guys then, you were both early.”

“Ah — dad dropped us off on the way — we’ve been here ages — we’ve even spied out what we need, bet you can’t guess.” Wendy was all smug, she knew I hadn’t a clue.

“I have no idea, what would you need in here?”

“Wallpaper! And ‘contact’ (a sort of self adhesive plastic coating for shelving) as well” Carol was watching to see if I clued yet. I didn’t.

“TO COVER OUR BOOKS WITH, SILLY,” they both said together and started laughing.

“You’re not serious? You actually pick wallpaper and stuff to cover your books with — how weird is that?” I shook my head in disbelief.

“See? there are some things you don’t know. It’s a lot easier to recognise your own books if you have your own design on the covers. And a nice bright cover makes you feel better — even if it is maths inside.” Carol said happily as she put her arm round my waist and I fell into step as we marched inside. I was having this image of maths books with teddy bears or fairies on the cover as we strolled down the aisle towards the decorating section.

But in the end I realised it was an individual thing and I chose a neat Marble effect for my exercise books and for the loose cover stuff (we weren’t allowed to stick plastic on the text books) I got a really nice jungle green with exotic ferns and rainforest plants. It was cool really since I’d been reading up about where we were moving to and there was loads of rainforest nearby.

After that we got some pencils and the other stuff that is normal for the student of whichever gender you’re trying to portray. — The new pencil case had to be a bit more feminine, but I rather enjoyed trying to find one with butterflies on — since I counted myself as a bit of a butterfly in my metamorphosis and it would be my own private joke. I got a small backpack with a butterfly motif as well — I hope no one realises the significance.

By lunch time we had just about done our dash and we couldn’t think of another thing to buy — which for girls is a great achievement. We sat down and had a milk shake apiece and decided that since the boys were going home tomorrow and may be forced to go out with their parents tonight, this afternoon was the only chance for some experience gathering. So we caught the bus to Carol’s and of course that meant we had to pass the boys’ gate. They were in the garden as we passed cooking up a storm on the BBQ.

Mark suddenly appeared at my side and offered to escort me to my seat. As we proceeded across the garden under protest to start with, Mark explained he’d asked Carol’s mum if they could invite us for lunch. Apparently she’d jumped at the chance of avoiding three girls yattering at the table and had even thrown in a couple of bottles of fizzy drink to boost the liquid levels.

The food was passable — I passed it to Carol and Carol passed it to Wendy and back and forth it went — we did eat some of it, but we decided that the boys must be druids and burnt offerings were the order of the day to assure that proceeding went to plan. Which was apparent when we realised there was no one else in the house. We were invited into the caravan for coffee. An invitation that made my toes curl in anticipation and my heart flutter in anxiety. I went alternately white and crimson. But into the caravan we went. The coffee for some reason seemed to be abandoned as an after dinner drink just as soon as we stepped inside. The kettle remained unplugged, but I was wired.

Mark sat down next to me and I realised that each of the girls had their own seat. I also seemed to be on the single bed edge, which made my heart jump giddily as I realised that I needed to keep at least a semblance of control or I’d end up with a guy who wanted to kick me instead of kiss me.

I turned towards him, I was going to lay the ground rules. I didn’t get to open my mouth, well I did actually, but only after my lips were sealed with his. I thoroughly enjoyed every minute of the next hundred days that it took me to get my breath back — somewhere in the middle of term I think it must have been. Mark was every inch a gentleman and I had to admit every inch of him was aware of my presence too. I couldn’t help noticing that the bulge in his pants was poles apart from what it normally looked like (I love puns like that).

I decided that I would leave well alone. I have to admit though, it was tempting to grab hold of it, but I’d decided that until I was a finished product that I would leave that sort of thing to the more forward of the species. I surreptitiously watched the others for signs of avant-garde action, but no one seemed to be going for the carrot.
I found out later that we were all waiting for the others to start the ball rolling so to speak.

I felt the soft edge of Mark’s hand as it edged towards my breast, and I gasped as he gently smoothed his palm over my nipple — it became very pronounced in my top and he decided that I liked it so added it to his repertoire — I decided I liked it too so I let him.

Like it? My God it was all I could do to stay this side of fainting. My whole body was in a state of tsunami. The blood rushed from end to end like it was trying to break free. My tingling grew and grew as he kissed me and fondled me — I was hoping it would never stop. Sadly I had to stop him as his hand suddenly decided to go South and I couldn’t afford that. When he got the stop signal, he was good enough to limit himself to above the waist, but I was wary after that and it lost the glow a bit. But it was all healthy fun and I realised that I had passed my final test for the summer — I had integrated into my new role and I felt whole (well nearly).

The return of the rest of the families put an end to the sports day and we tidied ourselves and exited like we had enjoyed our coffee. The fact we were as red as beetroots and all had beard rash, I guess the game was up — the fathers winked at their sons and the mothers regarded us to make sure we were ok. I guess we women look after each other.

The double dating technique was durable and meant that there was always someone there to make sure we weren’t forced past the line in the sand — safety in numbers. We said goodbye to the guys (they WERE going out for dinner with the others that night and were packing up early next day so we were unlikely to see them again) they promised to write and they gave us their addresses, but I had an idea that they were only being sweet so didn’t expect them to follow up on it — I was right in Mark and Steve’s case, but Carol and her Martin got back together over Christmas ( more on that later). It was sad to see them go and the kiss goodbye was, I suppose, what is known as bittersweet. I had a bit of a cry later but it was only me feeling sorry for myself — we hadn’t got involved and there was no heartbreak — well, only the odd crack here and there.

I said goodnight to Carol and Wendy and we arranged to meet next day so we could discuss school on Tuesday — Carol was going to show me the school photo and point out the nastier elements — I was willing to bet that the nasty were not anywhere near as bad as the guys. (I was wrong).

“She does what?” I asked incredulously.

“She grabs you by a breast and squeezes. If you have lunch money, you’re only too willing to give it to her.” Carol repeated, the tone obvious to anyone that it was from memory.

“She looks flat-chested,” I speculated from the photo.

“I think that’s what makes her use that tactic, she does it more if you’re ‘big’” Wendy pronounced looking about — I had about the same as them, not much, but enough to be grabbed and tortured by. I think I might retaliate if Judy got remotely close to my new appendages — they’re sore enough without some senior school bully having a go at them.

“I’ll keep a weather eye out for that, I’m not going to be bullied ANY MORE,” my voice rose to the thought. “I simply cannot tolerate Cro-Magnon politics.”

“Well what about Crouch? er Jemima. She’s gonna use her hockey stick on you for sure if you don’t let her win.” Carol pointed to a lanky spotty girl with braces.
“I don’t play sports so it’s not really relevant.”

“Oh no you don’t do you, lucky so and so.” Wendy ruminated on the other less civilised forms of pond life that inhabit most schools. “Well there’s others, but they’re only dangerous as a group and easily avoided.”

They had only really pointed out 4 girls, none of whom seemed to represent an insurmountable object — though a common theme was among them — low self esteem. I wonder if by being more senior now, they might be more civilised. I was bound to find out as I was a newbie senior and test me out they were sure to. Even if it was just for practice. I felt a cold steel resolve settle on me that I would not let ANYone bully anybody if I possibly could.

“Wow you sure look weird, did someone walk over your grave?” Carol was looking at me like I had just become snake girl.

“Sorry, I was just promising myself that I would interfere with facial shapes if I saw it happening — I hope I don’t have to put it to the test. Hey, let’s have an arm wrestle, I want to see if I’m still stronger than most girls.”

The girls could both work out what I meant so we set up a table and did a best of three for each of them against me. Carol was beefier in the arm than I was, but I easily beat her, Wendy was even weaker.

“So, I am stronger than I look eh? That could be really useful — I wonder if I will continue that way?” I grinned slyly at the girls and they chuckled.

“Heart girl beats bully into submission, I can see the headlines now…” Carol was as wicked as I was.

“I shall have to keep my trusty crutch handy eh? Tiny Tim topples towering twat.”

We started to giggle and had to give up on the discussion as we couldn’t stay serious.
Dad had mowed the lawn and washed the windows by the time I got back, “Managed to avoid the chores again I see.” Dad looked a bit askance at me — “So it’s your turn to weed the border. To be done this afternoon before we go out to dinner. Don’t ruin your nails, I want an elegant daughter to escort, not a farm labourer.” Dad grinned and raided the fridge for a deserved beer.

Being as how it was the end of the season there was a lot of dead heading to do as well and it took me a couple of hours to clear the beds of spoiled plants and I had to hurry to get changed.

“Nope, go put a dress on or at least a skirt, this is the last time before school and I want to see my daughter look her best.” Dad sent me back to my room with just the comment and a pointed finger. I love my jeans, but he was right.

I put on a pretty gypsy skirt in a soft blue and some strappy two inch sandals and a smock top, and re-presented my self. “that’s better, you look delicious”. Mum was wearing a simple scoop top and a pair of pants — I felt conspicuously overdressed — especially when Nigel appeared in a pair of casual pants and a polo shirt.

“Hey that’s not fair, I’m overdone,” I pouted a bit.

“Well it’s you everyone will be looking at, so you need to be the one that stands out, who would look at an 18 year old boy or a middle aged couple" — Who WOULDN’T look at an attractive and shapely, nubile young woman?” Dad explained to me as he snuck his arm round my shoulder and walked me to the car. I sensed his warm love surround me and I smiled up at him and kissed his cheek. “You make it worth while without anyone looking at me daddy, any but you, that is.”

Nigel make sicky noises and pretended to barf into the gutter.. “behave Nigel” was all mum said. He rolled his eyes and shook his fist at the heavens.

“Why didn’t I think of it? I could’ve been treated to a brand new wardrobe, a summer without having to get a job and no chores.” He winked at me. “Probably because in no way would I ever want to kiss a bloke or wear a bikini.” He nearly started to make barfing noises again til mum gave him the glare. We got in the car.

Dinner was noisy and slow, by the time we were served we were hot and sweaty and not in a good humour. Someone spilt his drink on my skirt and I was quite annoyed, the guy didn’t even apologise, he was too drunk to notice, I think. Mum helped me sponge off the worst of it in the ladies’. “Men, they’re all the same. Expect the ladies to be smart then abuse them when they drink too much. I’m so glad John doesn’t drink a lot.” I thought about it and I think it was the first time mum had ever related Dad as John to me. We returned to our seats and suddenly there seemed to be a lot more room and it was quieter.

“The soccer team left, and it’s considerably more peaceful now. Oh by the way, the Maitre D’ quashed your bill. 25% off the total — as a consolation for ruining your skirt. He put it on the guy’s bill — he looked over and nodded at me when he got it, so the Maitre D must have told him why.”

I felt vindicated and I smiled over at the Maitre and he waved back. Dad caught my eye and raised an eyebrow, I shrugged. Well a girl has to acknowledge her knights in shining armour.

When we got outside the football team were leaving on a coach and the guy who paid my bill came over. “I am really sorry, I overdo it sometimes, I hope the skirt isn’t ruined.”

My father took the lead and made a polite reply, “I hope so too. I also think you might have a few thoughts about how badly the media can portray a footballer who has a few too many.” The footballer looked quite abashed and I felt my dad’s care and protection covering me like a warm blanket. The bus started up and the player ran for it with a wave.

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Comments

A GOOD STORY,

ALISON

'and I just love the acceptance of the family,
especially from Dad.

ALISON

Jenny seems to be

enjoying life at the moment, Everyone seems to accept her for who she is.... But i do wonder if things might change for her when she starts school, One wrong move and the likes of Judy and Jemina will have a new target...Hopefully though, Jenny will remember that bullies only prosper if you let them!

I may have mentioned before Jen how much i'm enjoying this story, But it never hurts to say it again, Well written stories like this are a joy to read, Thank you so much for sharing it with us.

Kirri

Have I seen this somewhere before?

The bit about the footballer and Dad's advice to him right at the end, triggered my memory, although I cannot remember WHERE ?

It's a lovely tale Jennifer Christine, so I hope to read some more. This time I hope we follow them all the way to Queensland, if my recalling is complete, before it never got so far.

Briar

Briar

The next bit is new ground -

The next bit is new ground - School!!
I hope you like the difference between my story and the stereotypical TS school story
The footballer bit at the end of the last chapter is not plagiarised from anywhere else.

Funny story (true) shortened for effect but not content
My brother and I were playing snooker at a club one night and my brother said "oh look, there's Emlyn Hughes - come on over - I'll introduce you to him."
"Hi Emlyn, how are you? I'd like to introduce Jenny (it wasn't jenny then, it was male name)."
"Hi David, how are you Jenny?"
"Great thanks, what do you do for a living? David didn't say."
"I play football."
"Oh, like professionally? Are you any good? who do you play for?"
"Well I'm Captain for England and Liverpool at the moment so I'd say reasonably good."
"Ah yes, that would make you one of the better players I guess." at this point I was feeling pretty embarrassed.
"Er I don't follow football much."
Emlyn graciously said "No I guess not."
He spoke across to my brother. "That's why I come here David, total anonymity."

And that's as true as I sit here typing!!

The Way Things Happen - Part 5

She sure is having fun.

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Acceptance and love

Grat story which brings me to asking myself this one question.

If I had been brave enough to face my Daddy when I was merely four or so years old when he caught me wearing a home made dress that my mother had made thinking that I was supposed to be a girl at birth along with the doctors all thinking so as well would he have given me the same acceptance and love? I rather doubt it myself but it is a nice thought anyway!

Great story

Oh, by the way. This is a much better story than the average TS story by all means! :}

Vivien

I am sure that I'd be

I am sure that I'd be screaming also when/if I get
a legal name change.

alissa