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I was a girl. I’d always been a girl. I’d always dressed like a girl. But then I went to school and they told me I was a boy.

Skirting the Dress Code, by Karin Bishop

Part 7

Chapter 16: Inappropriate Attire

Any clothing that would create, in fact, an atmosphere in which a student, staff member, or other person’s well being is hindered by undue pressure, behavior, intimidation, overt gesture or threat of violence.

I was floating gently in Amy’s pool, along with the other girls. Wisps of steam hovered over the water. The stars overhead twinkled and turned as the pool float turned. I took a deep breath, grateful that my breasts, small as they were, thrust up towards the heavens. Now was the mellow time; we’d all jumped in and splashed each other and giggled like crazies and then we’d each found a float of some kind—I was on a mattress—and recharged our batteries, so to speak.

Carmen floated over; she was half-in-half-out of a sort of inner tube. “What is Jennifer’s deal with you, anyway? I don’t get it.”

“She thinks I’m a boy.”

“Duh, I got that,” she giggled and rolled her eyes. “But what I mean is …you’re so obviously not a boy! A blind guy could tell just by talking with you, let alone how you look, so what’s her deal? Is she, like, nuts or something?”

I was pleased at her comments. I said, “I think she …well, it was understandable if you just heard about me, you know?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I mean, you’re in the girls’ bathroom brushing your hair and another girl comes next to you at the mirror and says, ‘Have you heard? There’s some boy that’s pretending to be a girl! His name is Laurence!’ and you go, ‘Ew!’, thinking about him in the girls’ bathroom, and how could he ever think he’d get away with it, the perv? So you try to hunt him down and out him because nobody else seems to be doing it.”

She splashed a little, spinning herself idly. “Yeah, I get that; I totally get it. But …I mean, she’s seen you at school, right? How could anybody meet you once and think that you were a boy?”

“I think—I’m just guessing here—but I think that when she went on the warpath? You know, to get rid of this boy imposter? I think maybe she laid it on really thick among her friends. And then to discover there was nobody to go to war with—it was just me, in other words—she was too far into it to back out gracefully. Her friends would laugh at her.”

“Okay, two things. First, Jennifer doesn’t really have friends; she has girls that are too dumb or too scared to say no to her. And second, if they won’t say no to her, they sure won’t laugh at her!”

I chuckled. “Yeah, I’ve met Sandy.” Carmen giggled and nodded. I sighed. “Maybe it’s losing face in front of …Brady or some other boys. Or maybe it’s losing face at all. Maybe she just can’t handle it.”

“But back in the house …” She shook her head. “Pointing and screaming like she was; that was bordering on psychotic, you know? I mean, how much proof does she need?”

I remembered Ken at The Beacon, once telling me about his wheelchair and hassles with disability claims. Since he was missing a leg, it was proof that he couldn’t walk and they approved his wheelchair. But another vet, with a spinal injury, had two legs. Ken had told me that the bureaucrat said that since the guy had two legs, there wasn’t proof that he couldn’t walk and was going to deny the claim for the guy’s wheelchair. Eventually things got settled and the guy got his wheelchair, but Ken had used the story to teach me a little philosophy.

To Carmen’s question, I now shrugged and answered, “Can’t prove a negative.”

“Huh?”

“It’s one of the hardest things to do, maybe impossible. To prove a negative. Prove that you’re a girl, well, I sorta did that. Prove that you’re not a boy …how much proof is proof?”

She giggled. “Well, an erection might kind of prove things!”

I giggled with her. “Yes, it would. But …okay, take erections.”

“Please!” she laughed, supplying the old punch line.

I laughed and sat up, my legs dangling over the sides of the mattress. I liked talking with this girl. “Take a naked boy and a naked girl, standing five feet apart and looking at each other. The boy gets hard. What’s that mean?”

“Can I choose the boy if I get to be the girl?” she giggled.

“Focus, Carmen, focus!” I laughed.

She made an act of composing herself. “Okay. I’m, um, visualizing.” Her mouth twitched.

“Okay. The boy gets an erection. What does it mean?”

“Simple. She turns him on.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Who turns who on?” Ellie said as she drifted over, with five long floaty tubes supporting her arms.

Carmen said, “Laurie’s trying to prove something with naked boys.”

“Ooh! Prove it! Prove it!” Ellie teased.

I liked this girl, too!

I rolled my eyes. “I’m trying to prove something about proof.”

Carmen explained to Ellie, “I was just saying how psycho Jennifer was back there, and next thing I know, Laurie’s got some boy and some girl naked.”

“Carmen!” I giggled. I calmed. “Okay, Ellie, what I said was, you can’t prove a negative. Like trying to prove to Jennifer that I’m not a boy. Then Carmen said an erect penis might be proof, and I was saying not necessarily, and so we’re all caught up. So, my example is, take a boy and girl, naked, five feet from each other. The boy gets a hard-on. What does it mean?”

Ellie shrugged. “He’s into her.”

“Not yet!” Carmen teased, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Focus, Carmen, remember?” I teased back. “Okay. As a girl seeing that, what do you think?”

Ellie said, “That he’s really into me—cool it, Carmen!” They grinned at each other.

“What if he’s looking at you but thinking of some Sports Illustrated swimsuit model?”

“Or some other girl in class,” Ellie grumbled.

“Or some boy in class!” Carmen bounced in her tube with the force of nodding.

I nodded along with her. “Exactly what I’m saying. So now, despite the obvious so-called ‘proof’ of his affection, how does he prove to the girl that he’s not thinking about another girl in class, or a model, or a boy?”

They thought for a moment and then Carmen nodded. “You can’t prove a negative.”

Ellie said, “Huh?”

Carmen said, “What Laurie was explaining. How much proof is proof? You could hook the guy up to a lie detector and what are you gonna do? Quiz him about every girl in school or every swimsuit model or actress—”

“—or every actor!” Ellie giggled.

“Exactly,” Carmen said. “Wow. Can’t prove a negative.”

Ellie said, “At just point, you have to take it on faith.”

“Geez,” Carmen said, struck by a look of awe. “Did we just prove the existence of God?”

“Hot tub’s ready!” Amy called out, effectively ending any theological discussion.

* * *

We talked a little bit about Jennifer, of course, with the girls filling me in with tidbits from her past. I asked about Brady and Erika knew all about the Kellner family, due to a big brother that had run-ins with Brady’s older brother. I thought about how neither Jennifer nor Brady stood much of a chance of becoming nice normal kids, if the stories about their home lives and families were true.

So we moved on to cute boys. I didn’t get teased much about Drake—Erika had heard we were ‘dating’—because they said he was a really nice guy and really cute, too. Or really cute and really nice; it was interesting to me how one might be more important than the other. To me, though, Drake’s niceness and his courage to be with me tops how cute he is—and he is cute! Ellie had her sights set on one of the boys in her English class; I didn’t know him but encouraged her. Erika had a boyfriend from another school during the summer and was trying to ‘stay true’, which earned her howls and splashes. Then they turned to Carmen and a boy that liked her.

“No, he doesn’t!” she protested.

Erika said, “Girl, he totally does!”

“Prove it!”

“Prove he doesn’t!” Ellie laughed, winking at me.

“This is your fault, Laurie,” Carmen laughed, pointing at Ellie. “You’ve created a monster!”

I turned to Ellie and in solemn tones, said, “You have learned well, young Jedi. But now you must use your power for good.”

Ellie nodded. “I hear and I obey!”

“Oh God!” Carmen burst out, and froze.

“What?” we all cried, startled and worried.

“I just totally realized how to blow Mr. Vargas’ mind!” He was her math teacher. “Prove a negative! ‘Hey, Mr. Vargas, prove that two plus two does not equal four!’ That should kill an hour!”

Erika giggled. “Mr. DeLauro, prove that water does not flow uphill!”

Ellie said, “Actually, it does, in certain—”

Which earned her a splash from Erika, cutting off further proof.

Amy winked at me with how well I was accepted by the girls, and then said to everyone, “I’m starting to prune up. Anybody want to get out?”

We did and we didn’t; it was warm and fun in the hot tub versus cold and drippy to cross the pool deck to get inside. So we talked about what we’d do when we got inside; eat, then watch movies or watch movies first and—

The trees at the back corner of their property rustled, enough that we turned and were startled to see Brady, the goon that Drake had named as Stevie, and two other guys drop from the tree onto the pool deck.

Instantly the five of us got out of the hot tub. The chill hit us, causing our arms to go across our hardening nipples, and we did that quick walk-run wiggle thing towards the house, with Amy in the lead, then Erika, Carmen, and Ellie in front of me.

“Hey, wait up!” Brady called. “We wanna join you in the hot tub!”

“Not big enough!” Carmen shouted over her shoulder, which, unfortunately, could mean several things.

“Yeah, I am, baby!” one of the goons shouted.

Stevie snickered. “Check out her ass!”

I didn’t know who he was talking about, but I was last in line and Brady confirmed it. “That’s a dude, you perv!”

“What? Naw, the chick in the blue-and-white bikini!”

“That’s the dude, Stevie!” Brady explained.

The goons kind of murmured something, and Brady said, “Jennifer says so!” And they still advanced.

Amy got to the door and in her haste was having trouble getting the door open. Suddenly Ellie slipped and fell badly. She landed on tailbone, elbows, and her head cracked the deck. I kind of shrieked and dropped to her; she was in pain and already crying. Carmen spun and got back to us and with both of us helping, we got Ellie to her feet and walked her slowly to the door that Amy had slid open. Erika turned, her eyes wide at seeing us with Ellie, and looked past us and I turned and saw the guys stopped between the tub and the house, startled by the event. Erika stepped to us and took my place supporting Ellie into the house. She was whimpering and everyone was freaked.

I spun around and faced the guys, putting my hands on my hips and my legs firmly planted. I was pissed. All thoughts of Aikido and ‘going with the flow’ were vaporized; I was so angry!

“You morons! You hurt Ellie!”

“No, we didn’t!” Stevie burst out, suddenly scared.

“We were twenty feet away,” a goon sneered.

“We didn’t do nothing to her,” Brady scoffed.

“Yes, you did,” I said. “She slipped because she was running away from you!” I looked at all four with scorn.

One of the goons said, “Hey, she shouldn’t ‘a run.”

“She was afraid!” I spit out at him. “You’re trespassing on Amy’s property and you caused an accident. The law is clear. Because you caused her injuries—and she’s hurt, real bad!”

“Just fell on her ass,” Stevie mumbled.

“She hit her head, you jerk!” I sputtered. “And her elbows! She might have broken something!”

Brady grumbled. “She was walking okay. She’s not hurt ...”

Out of nowhere, one of the goons said, “Hey, Brady, man …is that the one that you said was a dude?”

“Yeah,” Brady said.

The other goon said, “You’re telling me that’s a dude?” He was pointing right at me.

I was in that stupid ‘Wonder Woman’ pose and had the sudden impulse to slam my legs together and cover myself with both arms, but I resisted. I just stood there, hands on hips, glaring.

“I don’t know what you’ve been smoking, but that’s a babe!” the first goon said.

“Smokin’ hot!” the other goon grinned.

Brady said, “Naw, he’s a …”

He trailed off as he really looked at me. His eyes looked from my head to my toes and back up again, slowly. I swear I could feel where his eyes fell on me, like bugs. I resisted again the strong urge to cover up and hide.

Brady murmured, more to himself, “But Jennifer says …”

I went on the attack. “Jennifer was here earlier but left.”

“Yeah, but …” His eyes were wide.

Part of my brain realized all at once what he was seeing. Despite my cute hair and waterproof makeup, I could be a boy …except that they could clearly see the curves of my breasts in my bikini top, and I knew my nipples were hard from the cold. And I had a curvy waist and hips, and was smooth and sleek all over.

But what had really brought him to a halt was my bikini bottom. It was cute, it was tiny, it was everything a bikini bottom should be. And it was wet and tight and covered a smooth mound and no bulges of any kind. The light from the house was sort of silhouetting me, and there was zero doubt that I had nothing between my legs—

—that a girl wouldn’t have.

I could distinctly see the moment when everything clicked into place in Brady’s mind—already apparent to his goons—that I was a girl. Not a boy. Not in any sense of the term ‘boy’. Even dim little Stevie grasped this.

“Is Jennifer screwing with you, man?” the first goon asked.

“That bitch!” Brady growled.

I said, “You’ve got bigger problems than Jennifer.”

“What?” Brady said, taking his eyes off my crotch and finally looking at me.

“First of all, I’m sure they’ve already called the police on you. Also, Amy’s dad is military and will not take kindly to your invasion of his territory,” I said, playing with the military concept. “Ellie is hurt, maybe really bad but I hope to God not, and her father is a lawyer.” I let that sink in. “I’m not a lawyer, but I know that her injuries happened because of your trespassing, so you are toast.”

The goons suddenly realized the seriousness of the situation and started retreating. Stevie plucked at Brady’s sleeve, saying, “Come on, man!”

Brady and I still locked eyes. “You’re a chick,” he said, still wrestling with the idea.

“Yeah,” I said, as if it were the most obvious thing. I dropped my pose and looked at the house over my shoulder and back to him. I took a chance and softened my voice. “Look, Brady …if Ellie’s really hurt, like she has to go to a hospital or something, there’s nothing I can do. But if she’s just …shaken up but okay? I’ll try to convince the girls that we didn’t recognize the boys who jumped onto the deck tonight.”

He held my eyes. “You’d do that?”

I nodded.

Brady squinted with distrust.“Why?”

Behind him, the two goons were scrambling up the fence and Stevie turned and whisper-yelled, “Come on, man!” again.

Brady repeated, “Why, Laurie?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think what you did was right under any circumstances, but I can …kind of understand. For whatever reasons Jennifer has, she got you all riled up about a boy pretending to be a girl. You really should just live and let live, but …” I remembered what I’d been told about his upbringing; it was the only reason I was showing any mercy. “ …but you didn’t. If Ellie’s okay, and I can convince them—and I’m not promising that I can—then we all just chalk it up to a bad practical joke by Jennifer. Monday, at school, we just go on like everything’s normal.”

He thought for a moment. “Okay.”

I said, “Wait—everything’s normal except for saying stupid stuff about me being a boy, or writing on my locker, or anything like that.”

Did I see a slight grin?

“Okay,” he nodded. “Why would I say stupid stuff about you being a boy? You’re a chick,” he said as if that explained everything.

“Right. And I’m freezing,” I said, and adopted the knees-together-arms-across-chest thing that was so girlish. “Now get out of here before the cops arrive.”

He spun and ran to the corner, vaulting into the tree in one fluid motion. I remembered that he was an athlete and wondered about his future.

Chapter 17: Inappropriate Attire

Pants must cover undergarments and must be worn at the waist. Pants should be no larger than 2" at the waist than student’s actual waist size.

Mom picked me up Sunday morning; she’d been out and about and swung by Amy’s. Before she got there, we’d all hugged goodbye as we left one by one, and I was the last. As we closed the door on Carmen, Amy slumped against it.

“God, what a night!” she sighed. “If that’s what middle school sleepovers are like, I may take a pass next time.”

“Come on, Ames; except for the Jennifer and Brady Show, it was pretty cool. Oh, and except for Ellie getting hurt.”

“Yeah,” she nodded, frowning. “Thank God she wasn’t hurt bad. But she could’ve been.”

“Yeah,” I echoed her. “But she wasn’t, and Jennifer’s been publicly proven wrong, and thank God I didn’t have to do another striptease to convince the boys.”

“How did you pull that off, anyway?” Then she realized how that could be meant and blushed. “Omigod! I mean—”

I laughed. “I know what you mean, you dummy! But if I could pull the thing off, I would’ve years ago.”

She looked at me fondly. “I know. You’re such a girl …” She flopped on the couch. “But seriously; how did you get a va-jay-jay?”

I giggled. “Don’t actually have one—yet!” I flopped next to her and told her about The Procedure before school started.

When I was done, she playfully slapped my shoulder. “You goof! All this time I’ve been worried about you being discovered and you were safe all along!”

“Um, thanks, but why were you worried?”

“You’re my friend, Laurie. Oh, I know that Rachel’s your BFF, and, um …what’s her name? Shannon. Shannon’s your bud, but …I still count you as one of my oldest and closest friends. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

That earned an ‘Aw!’ from me and a hug and just then Mom arrived.

Once we were home and sitting on the couch, after I filled Mom in on the details, she asked, “You didn’t say what happened when the police got there.”

“Oh. As soon as we knew Ellie was okay, I told the girls what I’d offered Brady. Carmen wanted to name names, but even Ellie said it would only lead to more hassle. We told the police that we didn’t know the guys, which was half-true, and then Ellie slipped and we were more interested in taking care of her than identifying the perps.”

“Perps!” she chuckled. “Too many cop shows for you, young lady!” She sighed. “Are you sure that Ellie’s okay?”

“Pretty much. She was mostly freaked out because …” I studied my hands. “Mom, I realized that she felt so vulnerable. She was flat on her back in a tiny bikini and if she could see the four guys, they looked huge—even Stevie—and on top of everything else, her boob had popped out of her top when she fell! I didn’t notice because I was glaring back at the guys and Carmen helped her slip it back in. But the helplessness …”

Mom nodded, frowning. “It’s something we all live with. You, too.”

“I know, Mom. And before I got to sleep, I was thinking about Ellie. I mean, I was thinking about all the girls, and Ellie’s cool. She looks all demure but she’s wicked funny and has an edge to her. And I think her …self-image was damaged more than her bones.”

“There could be a lot to that,” Mom nodded. “She sounds like she prides herself on being strong and fierce, and then to be turtled like that.”

“Turtled?” The second I asked, I understood. “Oh. Yeah. The thing is …I really, really want to learn Aikido now.”

She grinned, lightly slapped my leg and got up. “Not today. But this week, maybe, if the dojo place checks out. Have you told Rachel about last night yet?”

“No. I texted her just before I slept. I said that everything was okay but I had stuff to tell her. When I woke up she’d texted back that …” I held up my phone and read it aloud. “Sounds good. Got stuff to do today. I’ll call you tonight.”

“Really? She wrote all that?”

I giggled. “Well, no; she wrote like, ‘Cl U 2nt.’ I’m learning to read this stuff.”

She headed for the kitchen. “So …are you going to meet Drake?”

“God! I almost forgot!” I’d been mulling over last night’s events.

“You told me Friday that it wasn’t firmed up.”

On Friday, while we’d stood waiting for Mom to pick me up, Drake had asked if I was free Sunday to ‘maybe do something’. Friday night seemed so long ago!

“Is it okay, Mom? I mean, I’m going to call him and see what he wants to do and clear it with you, but is it okay?”

“I do note the little touch of hopefulness in your question,” she teased. “And, within reason, it’s alright. It’s a nice day out; we might not have too many more.”

It was the middle of September and today promised to be just like summer, but the weather could change any time. I called Drake and he said he didn’t have anything fancy in mind; maybe just a stroll in our local park? Mom okayed it and I flew into the bathroom to shower and get ready.

* * *

There was a light, pleasant breeze that kept things from getting too hot. It was just enough to occasionally swirl the hem of my yellow sundress. At first I was going to do jeans, but Mom was right about not having much summer weather left and after the previous night’s ….uh …revelations? I felt light and free. Pretty and feminine.

And I felt myself a girlfriend, although Drake hadn’t officially asked me. I told myself to relax and that, as always, Mom was right that it was only two weeks into the school year. But he was so cute! He wore khaki Dockers and a white Polo and I thought he looked like a millionaire, one of those East Coast wealthy guys, like a Kennedy or something. As soon as I thought that, I knew I was mad crushing, as the girls say.

We walked along, side by side, and at one point he pointed out a squirrel that was being weird in a tree. I mean, he really did point him out; I couldn’t see the thing through the leaves so Drake stood behind me with his head next to mine and raised my right arm and pointed to where to look. His other hand was on my shoulder, and after I giggled at the antics of the—quite possibly rabid!—squirrel, he gently turned me around and we kissed.

Soft, sweet, gentle …and I actually sighed afterward. So I reached for his hand and we began walking again.

We passed the snack bar and there were a bunch of guys standing around doing snow-cones. They called out to Drake and grinned knowingly as only clueless seventh grade boys can grin. Drake just waved at them and we walked on.

To our right was a thick patch of woods. I turned to Drake.

“You know what’s weird? When I was younger, I used to spend all my time in this park, like every square inch. And I just realized I haven’t been here for a couple of years.”

“Things change. I used to swim every single day.”

“Do you have a pool?”

“Not now, but we did then. And I kicked and screamed about how I hated moving here because we had no pool. So Dad got me a membership in the local pool. I think I went twice.”

“Too many people?”

“Maybe. I think it was more that it wasn’t my pool, you know? My …special place.”

I thought a moment. “I used to have a special place. I mean, maybe I still do.” I scanned the trees. “My best friend Rachel and I found a secret pathway through the trees, with this teeny, tiny meadow in the middle. I mean, tiny, like maybe ten feet across. And you’re completely cut off from the world.” I sighed, remembering. “We told so many secrets to each other there.” I chuckled. “Not that seven- or eight-year-olds have many secrets.”

“Sounds nice.”

“Yeah. We’d lay on our backs and see this little circle of blue sky, with clouds sometimes. It seemed like hours would go by …”

I started looking seriously at the trees. “Come on. I think I can find it if it’s not overgrown.”

After two false starts, I saw the opening and was about to say something, but faintly, I heard a girl’s soft laugh. Things clicked in my head. I turned to Drake. “You know what? I’m not sure it’s around here but …I’m getting kind of hot. Do you want a snow-cone? My treat if you’ll get ‘em.”

He grinned. “How can I pass up that offer! What flavor?”

“Cherry if they have it, or that light blue stuff if they don’t,” I said, handing him a five-dollar bill. In a dowager’s voice, I said imperiously, “And be quick about it, my good fellow.”

He tipped an imaginary hat. “Yes, mum. Right away, mum. Will there be anything else?”

“That should be sufficient,” I said haughtily.

Still playing along, he said, “I’ll return in a flash and then see to polishing the Bentley.”

He started to move off, and I said, “Drake?” He turned. In my normal voice I said, “You don’t have to come running back—I mean, I don’t want the darned things to melt!—but I know those are your buddies. If you want to, you know, chat about sports for a little bit before you get the cones, it’s okay.”

He made a face. “Chat about sports? Guys don’t chat about sports!” He exaggerated his shock.

“Sexist!” I giggled. “Seriously, if you want to talk to them for a little bit, it’s okay. I’m going to use the Ladies’ and then try to find that secret passage in the woods.”

He nodded. “Cool!” he smiled and left.

I made a show of heading towards the brick lavatory building but then veered off directly to the passage in the trees. It was overgrown but I could still move through it. I heard a gentle giggle.

“Rach?” I called softly, turning this way and that. “Rach, is that you?”

“Laurie?” came a startled whisper.

Hearing that, I relaxed as I pushed the last branches aside to the little meadow. Other than a Pepsi can somebody had tossed in a corner, it was unchanged.

Except that it was occupied, by Rachel and a furiously blushing Rose, sitting next to each other on a blanket with a sketch pad open. Rose quickly closed the pad.

I walked to them and kneeled. “Heard your laugh,” I said to Rachel.

She looked at the sky and shook her fist. “Damn you for cursing me with a sense of humor!”

To Rose, I said, “God, she’s such a drama queen!”

Rose’s eyes were downcast, but she now looked at Rachel with real affection. “Yeah, she is.”

“Better believe it!” Rachel said, smiling at Rose.

“You guys doing okay?” I asked, neutrally.

“Doing great!” Rachel grinned at me.

I tilted my head. “Rose? You okay?”

She was back to blushing. “I was …uh …sketching, and I …uh …”

I put a hand on the back of hers. As gently and reassuring as I could, I said, “Rose? It’s okay. Really!”

She looked at me tentatively. “Really?”

Rachel said, “I told you she’s cool with it! God, how could she be my best friend if she wasn’t cool?”

There was a little something in Rose’s eyes at that and I made a judgement call. I leaned forward and said softly, “Rose, Rachel is my best friend for years and years, but I am not the one she loves.” I gave her as meaningful a look as possible.

“Uh …” Rose said, constructively.

Rachel rubbed Rose’s shoulder. “Sweetie?”

Rose looked at her and her lip actually trembled. My hand was still on the back of Rose’s hand; I gently picked up her hand and brought it to Rachel’s cheek and let go. Her hand softly lay there and Rachel leaned into the hand. They leaned forward and kissed.

It was unbearably romantic. Oh, yeah; somebody out there would be screaming ‘It’s a sin!’ or ‘Abomination!’ or even ‘Chicks kissing! Hot!’ but it was romantic and lovely and so sweet and I remembered what Rachel had told me about Lit Lesbians and, yeah, it was intensely romantic and I even got a little misty.

Rose blushed and looked down as the kiss ended. To me, she said, “You must think I’m …”

“Rose,” I said firmly, “I’ll tell you what I must think. I think that you’re a wonderful couple and I wish you all the love and happiness. It’s a new life, a new world, and you’ll explore it together. Kiss her and love her and take care of her because you’re both worth it.”

Rose, to my surprise, giggled and grabbed Rachel by the shoulders and kissed her hard. Even Rachel was taken by surprise, but moaned softly and into the kiss.

I stood and turned to leave, went over and picked up the Pepsi can and just before I entered the maze back, Rachel called out. “Laurie? You set us up, didn’t you?”

“Why, whatever do you mean?” I said theatrically, like a southern belle. Then I chuckled. “Just a hunch. Two great girls who might help each other …become even greater?” I nodded and grinned. “Yeah, I did that!” I waved and went into the trees.

Chapter 18: Inappropriate Activities

Students may not engage in Public Displays of Affection (PDAs) anywhere on campus, in hallways, on field trips, at school dances or school-sponsored events, even if held off campus.

Mom gave me a knowing look over the top of her tea cup. “And what did you say?”

I sighed. “I said yes.” Then a grin burst out. “Yes!”

She set down her cup. “Oh, sweetie, he seems like such a nice boy!”

“Oh, he is, Mom; he is,” I said dreamily.

When I’d come away from Rose and Rachel, Drake was just walking towards the trees with two snow cones. He handed me the red one and I don’t know why; I just leaned over and kissed him ‘thank you’.

No biggie, right?

Well, when I pulled back, we were looking at each other and there was this, like, zing or something. Like the old songs. We were both coming in for the kiss and it was warm and passionate and way more than a ‘thank you’! We pulled back and there was this embarrassed moment where we kind of nervously chuckled.

“I liked that,” I said softly.

“I liked it, too,” he said, our eyes still locked. Then he looked at my hand. “Um, he said it was black cherry. It’s still kind of cherry-colored to me.”

I took a small bite of my cone. And as I licked my lips, I realized that I hadn’t needed to lick my lips—I mean, I hadn’t spilled or anything—but something in me wanted to lick my lips for him. He looked like he was in shock for a moment, and then gave himself a tiny shake.

Wow, I thought. That stuff works!

Drake cleared his throat. “I took you up on your advice to …chat with the guys, but they weren’t talking about sports.”

“I thought boys only talked about sports. Or cars. Or sports cars!” I giggled.

He nodded. “Pretty much, yeah; unless they’re nerds, and then it’s Star Wars and video games.”

“So what were they talking about?” I was actually interested.

“The, uh …Homecoming Dance.”

“That’s like a month away. I thought only girls got excited about dances,” I teased.

He nodded again, looking thoughtful. “Excited? Yes, only girls get excited. Guys get terrified.”

“Terrified? Big strong boys?”

“You betcha,” he grinned. “Because we’ve gotta ask the girl. The girls just sit back and let us do the hard work.”

I could tell by the twinkle in his eye that he was teasing so there was no need to go all superior and feminist on him. I played along. “Well, we have a lot more riding on who asks us. And who we choose.”

“Just as we do. But we have to ask.”

“Gee, that must be tough!” I said, playfully frowning. “So what was being discussed?”

“Oh, this girl versus that girl. Arm charms versus fun girls. Eye candy versus brain food. The usual,” he shrugged.

If I didn’t know that he was being playful, I’d have slugged him. “Gee,” I said again, “so many choices! And so early in the year, too.”

“Yeah,” he said, and seemed to tire of the game. In his normal voice, he said, “Think of Jennifer Malkins. She is a cute blonde. And if a guy didn’t know her, he’d think she would be great to ask. Think of Brady Kellner. Big, successful star athlete. What a catch, right?”

“You’re right,” I said, matching his serious mood. “And maybe the mousy girl sitting behind you in History class might be the most delightful company ever. And then there’s the Sandies and Stevies,” I added, thinking of Jennifer and Brady’s craven followers.

We walked for a bit in silence and I could feel this …this thing building up inside me. It was like psychic power shouting to Drake, ‘Me! Pick me! Ask me!”

When he continued to say nothing further, I timidly asked, “So …that’s what they were talking about?”

“Uh-huh,” he nodded, working at his cone.

“And …you were talking with them? About the dance, I mean?”

“Nope,” he said casually, and finished his cone and dropped the paper holder in a trash can.

“No? Oh,” I said, feeling deflated.

He said, “I didn’t talk with them about it because I already know who I want to take to the Homecoming Dance.”

My brain was shouting, ‘Ask me!” but I kept my voice even. “Do I know her?”

Drake’s mouth twitched at the corners. “I’m not going to play any games with you. Laurie, I would really, really like to escort you to the Homecoming Dance.”

“Escort …like in …you want to take me to the dance?”

“Yes, please,” he smiled. Then it wavered. “Unless you …”

“Yes! Yes, yes, yes!” I said and tossed my unfinished cone into the trash can and threw my arms around his neck and pulled him to me for a kiss.

His arms went around my waist, locking hands and I leaned back into his arms after the kiss ended. He said, “There is just one small detail …”

“Yes?” I asked, uncertain.

“I don’t know how you’d feel …” He looked down between us. “Um …it’s not contingent on going to the dance or anything. Kind of …separate but equal.”

“Okay, but what?”

“Would you …be my steady girlfriend?”

I think they could hear my squeal of ‘yes!’ in Omaha …

* * *

Mom nodded at my news about Drake, and gave me the standard cautions about how young we were, and don’t get tied down but learn about other people, blah-blah-blah. Plus, she said that any relationship with a boy must not affect my grades. I agreed and we hugged and I realized she was crying.

“Why, Mom?”

She chuckled as she dabbed at her eyes with a napkin. “Oh …you remember in The Lion King when one of the characters—I think it was Poomba—turns to the audience and throws his hands up—paws up—and says, ‘It starts!’? That’s how I feel!” That brought the tears back.

“What starts, Mom? Dating?”

“Well, yes, but …it just means that you’re so much closer now to …finding the right man and getting married and leaving me …” She laughed. “God! Listen to me! I sound like such a cliché!”

“How about I find the right man and get married and we move in here? He could sleep on the couch,” I teased.

“Oh, you!” she giggled. Then she sighed. “It’s just that you’re growing up, and you’re so pretty and so smart and I know you’re going to have a great life and …” She shrugged. “Your first boyfriend? Poomba said it right. It starts!” she laughed.

“Mom, I’m …kind of freaked by the whole thing, too. But I think Drake’s a really great guy—and not just because he’s my boyfriend!” I said proudly.

“He does seem great, honey; but remember that any relationship at this point is a learning experience.”

“Speaking of learning experience, I have to figure out what I’m going to wear tomorrow.”

She was dabbing her eyes. “Such as?”

“Well, try to break them in on an actual dress …” I frowned, thinking about the upcoming week.

“Um, sweetie? How long have you been in school?”

“Two weeks, why?”

“And how long was our deal with the principal for?”

“The first two weeks,” I said, remembering. “But …” I trailed off, uncertain what to say.

“Sweetie, I haven’t told you yet, but this weekend, I received a very interesting phone call. Two, actually.”

“With whom?”

“Principal Halloran.” Mom looked like the cat who got the cream.

I felt a nervous clench in my gut. “…and?”

“Well, you’ve told me what happened at your sleepover. With that Jennifer girl, I mean.”

“Oh, God; am I in bigger trouble now?”

Mom laughed. “Quite the opposite. You see, Jennifer stormed home and was saying things that alarmed her mother. Her mother is …well, let’s just say she’s active with a phone. So she called Principal Halloran and gave her an earful and Mrs. Halloran called me. We had quite a chat. Then today I received another.”

“Oh, God,” I repeated. “Am I …expelled or something?” I was almost shaking with nerves.

“Gracious, no! Why would you be expelled?”

“Well, I was guessing Jennifer told her mother …who knows what she’d say, whether it was true or not?”

“You have a point. Well, I gave your doctors’ names and numbers to her last night, and gave them a sort of emergency call to alert them that she wanted to speak with them. And then, just before you got home from the park, she called me back.”

I was waiting for her to keep talking but she didn’t. “Mom! You’re killing me, here!” I said in a New York accent. “What did she say?’

If I thought Mom looked smug before, she was really looking pleased with herself now. “Now, I wouldn’t have counseled you to strip naked in front of Jennifer, but I trust your instincts and your instincts were spot on.”

“Okay. I’m not sure what that means, but …thank you, I think.”

Mom reached out and stroked my hair. “Sweetheart …your two weeks are over.”

“I know that,” I frowned. “We already said that!”

“Yes, we did, but you misunderstand me.” She sighed, tilting her head to the ceiling to gather her thoughts. “Alright. You completely convinced Jennifer that you are a girl. So when her mother called up Mrs. Halloran in a tizzy, it wasn’t about a boy pretending to be a girl. It was about what kind of fraud was the school pulling on the parents to create this fiction about a boy pretending to be a girl!”

“Wait; you mean …she was blaming the principal because I’m a girl?”

Mom nodded and chuckled. “Unbelievable, right? So when Mrs. Halloran called me, I explained about The Procedure. She’d never heard of such a thing, so I set it up so she could talk with your doctors. She called me back this afternoon and we had a long talk.”

I was going nuts. “And? And?”

“And …” she teased, drawing out the suspense, “…your principal has made the decision that Lauren Marie Tilden is, to all intents and purposes, a girl. And as such, is allowed full access to the girls’ restrooms. And, if you wish, you can take Girls’ PE. Although I think you might be better off keeping Study Hall. Especially if you’ve come to terms with Mr. Abrams.”

I thought of him stirring the stew and smiling at me as I left The Beacon …only yesterday?

“Whew!” I said, collapsing slightly. The weekend had certainly been busy! I had so much to tell Shannon about tonight!

“Laurie, you did it! You made the transition to public school in two weeks. You effectively stifled all opposition, from a mean girl and a boy bully and a religious zealot teacher. You’ve made friends. You’ve even landed a boyfriend, for goodness sakes!”

“Um …yay, me?” I said sheepishly.

Mom laughed. “There is one thing, though …”

“Yes?”

“Principal Halloran said to remind you …”

“Yes? What is it?”

Mom grinned. “She said to remind you that you still need to follow the Girls’ Dress Code!”

The End

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