The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1582 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“You’re always asking me about my school days, what about yours?” I asked Simon, who was wondering how he’d get the magazine back which lay on the bedroom floor.

“Nothing much worth reporting, we used to skip prep every now and again and go behind the rugby changing rooms and drink and smoke. Same as any other public school boy, really.”

“They taught you to dance, didn’t they?”

“Yeah, supposed to put a veneer of civilisation on us, for five thousand a term they had to show something, so I could ask for a nice wine in French, use the correct cutlery at a meal and curse in Arabic.”

“Arabic–you took Arabic?”

“No, one of classmates was a Saudi, so I used to be able to say things like, Your mother has a face like a camel’s arse.”

“Go on then say it,” I urged him.

“I can’t, I’ve forgotten it–we were both drunk while he was teaching me.”

“I thought Muslims weren’t supposed to drink.”

“Ha, he was pissed half his time there. They wanted to expel him, but his dad was some dignitary at their embassy, ambassador or something, and the government wouldn’t let them do anything to upset our friends in the Middle East, they might stop buying our tanks or warplanes.”

“I wasn’t aware we had anyone like that in our school, though expulsions were rare, I suppose I came as close to it as anyone.”

“How come, I can’t imagine you as anything other than a model pupil?”

“I got blamed for all sorts of things, if they were beating me up, then when they saw the head, they’d say I propositioned them. They nearly always called me she. I remember a boy called Lewis Jones accused me of looking at him and started laying into me, when Murray asked him what had happened he said, ‘She was trying it on, sir.’

“Murray then asked for clarification, ‘Who is she–this is a boy’s school, and the only women are teachers, kitchen staff or admin support–so who is this she?’ Of course he knew the answer and having dismissed Jones with a light reprimand–as good as if you’re going to do it, don’t get caught–he dealt with me.

“Charlotte Watts, that’s what he called you, Watts. But then I suspect you like that don’t you?" I said nothing but I felt like agreeing with him–but didn’t on principle, it added to his paranoia. “You fairies make me sick, but I can’t expel you for your perversions, I promised your father I wouldn’t.” That surprised me, then I remembered, they were both masons. So a funny handshake was all that kept me in this school.

“I suppose you’d like it if we transferred you to the girl’s school so you could giggle and wiggle with the rest of the trollops. I wish I could, but that would create a real stink, more than the smell that surrounds you most of the time–you smell like a French whore.” It wasn’t my fault, Siá¢n had squirted me with some of her perfume on the way to school, and it was quite strong.

“I thought I told you to keep that hair in a ponytail” he shouted at me, some spittle landing on my face–how I didn’t throw up I’ll never know. I had the scrunchie in my pocket and he made me put it on. Mind you my hair was longer than it is now.”

“Blimey,” Simon looked at my shoulder length hair, “Longer? How much?”

“About three inches.”

“And you refused to cut it?”

“Absolutely. The dress code said hair had to be clean and tidy. Mine was. Occasionally if I really wanted to wind him up, I’d get Siá¢n to plait it for me. On one occasion, she did it in plaited pig tails–he went berserk and told me to either put it back into a ponytail or go and put on clothing more appropriate to it. I went home to lunch and came back in the girl’s uniform that Siá¢n had loaned me. I came very close to getting expelled. Instead he made me wear it for the remaining two days of the week. I also had to stay in school during break times in case I got beaten to death.”

“You looked like a girl, acted like a girl and they wanted to beat you up–what were they, total morons? Hitting girls, I can’t abide that at any price.”

“Ah, but officially I was still a boy, so I was seen as at best a curiosity–one or two enjoyed the way Murray’s blood pressure rose whenever I was about–I think they were hoping he’d have a fit or a stroke, he never did of course. The rest saw me as a weirdo who confused them or caused them to question their sense of male and female, and possibly their own masculinity.”

“So you had some supporters?”

“Mr Whitehead, only I didn’t know it then, and one of the women teachers who tried to intervene whenever she was near if I was getting battered.”

“Did you get hit very often?”

“Yeah, all the time, pushed and elbowed, books knocked from my hands, that sort of thing.”

“And you didn’t try to fight back?”

“Not with fists. That would only encourage them.”

“They could have done you serious harm, ruptured organs, damaged your face–I’m amazed you survived such an ordeal. How anyone could call you a wimp or weak is beyond me, you were twice as strong as any of them.”

“I knew that, they were too thick to work it out.”

“Didn’t Caroline go to your school?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t know her then. She was two years below me and...”

“I know, I had Stella and as my sister she was difficult to ignore completely. So did you ever fancy any of the boys or girls?”

“You have got to be joking, I saw loads of girls I’d loved to have been, but fancy any of the boys–yuck–they were all that reminded me how women had evolved from the primeval ooze that is adolescent male.”

“Hoy, what d’ya mean women had evolved from the primeval ooze?”

“Primeval slime?” I offered.

“That’s better, primeval zit would be more apposite, but you’re a woman so you wouldn’t know about such things.”

“I didn’t, but a friend of Siá¢n’s had the most awful acne. She really did have a face full of craters. I think she got dermal abrasion in the end, poor kid.”

“So when did you start fancying boys then?”

I blushed as I recalled the memory of Kevin or whatever his name was, the bit of rough who kissed me while I was sitting in Simon’s car, and I came in my pants. It was as if a veil had been lifted and I was free to take part in relationships with the opposite sex–or boys, in my case–after all, I was now living as female–not just a girl, but female–and female is a sex, not a gender. Okay, I wasn’t in any hurry to experiment or experience what had been opened like some Pandora’s box, but I knew who I was and where I stood from then on.

“Hello, anyone home?” he waved his hand in front of my eyes.

“Yeah, I was trying to think when I started to fancy boys–or a boy–it was going out with you. Initially, I was just doing the mechanical thing, justifying myself as a girl by going out with a man, and as you offered, well.”

“And?”

“I succumbed to your charms and discovered that I was female in every sense.”

“Well, let’s face it, Babes, you never had a chance when I turned on the charm...”