Debriefings 6

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Debriefings
by
Anam Chara

Along life’s journey we each encounter those events where all that we know, all that we do, and all that we are may change. But even as we approach such events, we don’t always notice their markers until we look behind us and see them for what they were.

One boy is about to learn that he has already passed such an event, and nothing will ever be quite the same…

6

“You’re pensive tonight, Libby,” observed Nathan MacDonald, M.D. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nate, I’m a little worried about our son right now,” Elizabeth “Libby” MacDonald, M.S.N., admitted to her husband while brushing out her hair at her vanity. “That exercise for ‘Gender-Bender Day’ may not be resolved so completely for Brandon as it should be.”

“He seemed happy enough about it yesterday,” recalled Nathan, chuckling slightly. “He didn’t take that dress off until bedtime.”

“And he was just darling wearing it, too,” agreed Libby. “But this morning he seemed very upset that he’d ever done it.”

Nathan thought for a moment back to his own days in high school. “Do you remember the Powder Puff Football Tournaments we had?” he asked.

“You were such a cute cheerleader, dear,” recalled Libby. “You were pretty as Queen of the Ball in your senior year, too.”

“The first time or two I had to dress like a girl I was so embarrassed, even though I’d had fun doing it,” recounted Nathan. “But then, I began enjoying it, but also felt guilty about it. A boy isn’t supposed to dress up like a girl, and if for some reason he has to, he’s not supposed to like it. For a boy to like dressing up as a girl violates the ‘Boy Code.’ ”

“How did you get over it?”

“You saw to that, honey!”

“I did?”

“Yes, you did. You stuck by me. You’ve always made sure I could remember who I am—both my masculine and feminine selves,” Nathan reminded his wife. “By the way, you were just as cute wearing a tuxedo with high-heeled pumps.”

Libby smiled to herself in the vanity’s mirror as she began plaiting her sleep braid. “Teaching you to dress as a girl was so much fun, and not just for me. Remember how much Mom got into it?”

Nathan chuckled again recalling how Libby’s mother had gone all-out to feminize him. After all, her mom was a feminist who believed that boys needed to learn the ways of womenfolk if peace were ever to prevail in the world. His willingness to assume a feminine role now and then had won his mother-in-law over.

“After that first Powder Puff Dance our freshman year, I knew we would always be together,” Nathan reminded her. “After letting you transform me into a girl, and letting myself become so vulnerable that you could strip my masculinity away, but trusting you to offer it back, that was so powerful. I never forgot what I learned about us both that week.”

“Nor did I, honey.” Libby tied her braid off with a ribbon. “I do think it’s time for you to share that experience father to son. He needs to know his dad wasn’t afraid to let his inner girl out to play.”

“I guess that means we’ll have to show Brandon The Yearbook ?”

“I think he’ll be able to deal with it all more easily once he knows you were a Powder Puff Cheerleader yourself,” Libby concluded sliding under the sheets next to Nathan, who extinguished the lamp on his nightstand. His wife reciprocated turning the light out on her own nightstand. They snuggled together in the moonlight.

“Know what, Libby?”

“What?”

“I should’ve worn more dresses and skirts when I was a boy.”

“But that always got you in trouble with your parents.”

“I know,” confirmed Nathan. “Then again, that was the fun of it.”

Their lips met and they settled quickly into sleep.

☆ ☆ ☆

Brandon peered through his bedroom window, watching the clouds drifting by, illuminated in the bright moonlight. He could still feel the soft, wet sensations of Jenny’s kisses that day. Letting the image of her smiling face fill his mind, he hoped he might dream of her that night.

Yes, to dream of Jenny and a budding romance with such a petite, delicate girl, unafraid of asserting her interest in him…

☆ ☆ ☆

Mr. Markham turned the television on for the morning announcements by live streaming video. Friday’s were eagerly anticipated by most of the girls at school, especially those on the ballot for the Homecoming Court in each class.

Brandon came in early that morning to make certain that he was not tardy. Fortunately, Mr. Markham had not marked him so Thursday, because he had seen Kelly delay his ingress into class. He had even missed his ballot for Homecoming Princess yesterday morning, although it was not very important in his thinking. Kelly, there in his homeroom was in the running, as was Rhonda, his lab partner from French class. But because he did not mark his ballot until yesterday afternoon, he had written in Jenny Chang’s name; they had shared their first kisses earlier. Otherwise he’d have voted for Rhonda or maybe even Kelly.

The announcer was a student from the senior class:

“Good morning! I’m Tina Flaubert, Chairperson of the Homecoming Committee. I’m here to announce those elected to this year’s Homecoming Court.

“A Princess has been chosen from each class. I’ll announce the winners beginning with the Freshman Homecoming Princess, next the Sophomore, the Junior, and the Senior Homecoming Princesses in that order, then the Homecoming Queen.

“The winner of the senior ballots is declared Homecoming Queen, with the runner-up becoming Senior Princess.”


Brandon tried to shut the video announcements out of his focus to study a few minutes more for his German class. Not only was the television too loud, in his opinion, but if Kelly or Rhonda won, then every girl in his homeroom would begin screaming in celebration. The announcer continued:

“If your name is announced, please report immediately to the Guidance Office. From there, you will be taken to the West Grove Mall, where you will be attired and treated to a makeover for the Homecoming Ceremonies by Kaufmann and Kaufmann’s Wedding and Formalwear Boutique for Men and Women and Maxine’s New House of Glamour. The Homecoming Ceremonies will be celebrated at midfield during halftime of tonight’s football game.

“And please be ready to name a boy, also from your own class, whom you would like to be your escort at the Homecoming Ceremonies.

“The Freshman Homecoming Princess is somewhat surprising, elected on a strong write-in vote…”


Brandon cringed from the squeals and screams around him. Kelly or Rhonda must have been chosen Freshman Homecoming Princess, he figured. But then quite unexpectedly, he felt himself being dragged out from his desk and engulfed in a group hug. He wasn’t even sure how many, but at least five or six girls, including Kelly, Teri, and Alice among them, had surrounded him. They ushered him towards the door, locking arms with him, kissing him on the cheeks and even the lips.

“…Brandi MacDonald. Again, the Freshman Homecoming Princess is Brandi MacDonald.”


“What’s happening?” Brandon asked in surprise.

“You won!” Teri squealed in excitement.

“Won what?” Brandon was clueless.

“Freshman Homecoming Princess!” Alice informed him.

“But how?” Brandon wondered.

“We voted for you,” announced Kelly.

“But I wasn’t on the ballot,” he objected

“We wrote you in,” explained Alice briefly.

“But why?” Brandon remained incredulous of what he was being told.

“So you could be Princess!” Teri replied in an authoritative tone.

“But I don’t wanna be Princess!”

“Now that’s just silly! Why wouldn’t you wanna be Princess?” Teri demanded.

“Because I’m a boy—a guy!”

“Well, you look like a girl to me…,” declared Kelly.

“… And to me…,” added Teri.

“… And even to me!” Alice confirmed.

“But I’m not a girl!”

“That’s okay—we’ll help you be one,” Kelly promised him.

“But I don’t wanna be a girl!”

“Of course you do!” Teri assured him.

“You just don’t know it yet,” Kelly told Brandon. “We want Brandi to take over. We think she’s cooler than you are.”

“Kelly! Don’t you dare diss Brandon!” Alice warned her. “He’s my friend!”

“Well, she’s mine, too!” pouted Kelly in response.

The huddle of girls continued to compel Brandon along and he began crying as he felt the full helplessness of his predicament. He wanted to walk—even to run away, but he couldn’t as they held him securely.

They dragged, almost carried, Brandon into the Guidance Office. Dr. Van de Meer stood next to the door. “Congratulations, Brandon! And remember, stand firm for your own choices,” she reminded him. “Don’t let anyone push you into anything that’s not right for you, or that you’re not ready for.”

“I don’t wanna do this,” Brandon again objected. Still, the boy didn’t understand how Dr. Van de Meer could congratulate him for being elected Freshman Homecoming Princess but at the same time encourage him to hold his ground. Yet she had.

“Yes, you do!” The entire group of girls, now joined by Valerie, Debbi, and Holly, contradicted him in chorus.

“I voted for Jenny,” he argued. “I want her to be Princess. Let her have it instead. She’d enjoy being Homecoming Princess.”

“No! We can’t,” Debbi refuted him. “The freshman class voted for you. Besides her mom won’t let her to go to the Homecoming Dance.”

“But that was when she didn’t have a boyfriend,” pled Brandon. “I’m her boyfriend now. She can go with me.”

“Now, that’s just silly!” declared Holly. “You can’t be Jenny’s boyfriend—you’re a girl!”

“Please, let go of me!”

“Now quit making such a fuss, Brandi!” Valerie ordered him. “You’re our Princess-elect, and that’s all there is to it!”

“But I’m a boy!” reiterated Brandon. “A boy can’t be a princess.”

“And there you go with that again,” remarked Holly. “Give it up!”

“Yes,” Debbi agreed. “It doesn’t matter if you’re a boy. You won the vote, so if we don’t make you Freshman Homecoming Princess, then that’s discrimination. You wouldn’t wanna get the school in trouble, would you?”

“We need to get him to the boutique and the salon right away,” Kelly suggested. “The sooner he’s girled up, the sooner he’ll accept it.”

She’s right,” concurred Teri, the others nodding in agreement.

“No, please don’t make me do this,” begged Brandon.

“Don’t worry, Brandi,” said Kelly in her most reassuring tone. “As soon as we getcha looking glamorous, you’ll feel much better about it.”

“No, I won’t. It’s against my will.”

“Now, that’s antidemocratic, Brandon,” Debbi decided. “The will of the people—well, the freshman class, anyway—is that you be our Homecoming Princess. You’re not going to disregard the will of the electorate, are you?”

“No one asked me if I were even a candidate.”

“You never said you weren’t.”

“But I wasn’t on the ballot.”

“That’s why we waged a write-in campaign for you.”

Brandon felt himself being worn down. The girls had an answer to his each and every objection. Nor could he escape the huddle that they had formed around him.

He recognized another girl coming into the Guidance Office, Tina Flaubert, Chairperson of the Homecoming Committee, who had made the announcements on streaming video. She wasn’t one of the Swarm, so maybe she’d help him get out of this.

“Tina!” Brandon called out. “I can’t do this. I’m a boy, so I’m not even eligible for Homecoming Princess.”

“Of course, you’re eligible!” said Tina. “After all, the rules don’t let us discriminate against you just because you’re a boy. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“But I don’t wanna do this!” he objected yet again.

“Don’t worry about it, Brandi,” Tina tried to reassure him. “You’ll be a cute Homecoming Princess.”

“Oh, don’t mind him, Tina!” Alice told the Homecoming Chairperson. “Brandon’s been anxious about it ever since you announced him the winner.”

A group of four other girls whom Brandon did not know appeared in the Guidance Office. He figured that they were the other Homecoming Princesses and the Queen. In his own mind, he didn’t belong with them any more than he did with the Swarm.

“Now listen up, everyone,” said Tina raising her voice. “For those of you who don’t already know her, this is Doctor Ellen da Silva, Senior Class Guidance Counselor. She’s our chaperone for the Homecoming Court today while you’re all out at the salon and boutique getting yourselves pampered, primped, and dressed up for tonight.”

Maybe if he could speak with Dr. Da Silva, she could help him get out of this situation. Brandon clung to that hope as he continued to look for a chance to break free of the Swarm’s relentless custody. But at least two or three girls constantly kept watch on him at any given moment.

“Doctor da Silva?” he asked.

“Yes?” Dr. Da Silva acknowledged him.

“My name is Brandon and I’m a boy. I don’t wanna be Homecoming Princess.”

“Then why did you run for it?”

“I didn’t,” denied Brandon. “I got all these write-in votes I didn’t want and didn’t ask for.”

“But it’s an honor,” she assured him. “And being the first boy to win Homecoming Princess at your school would be an interesting line on your college application.”

“Oh, I’m sure it would, but I’m not listing it,” he declared. “I mean, I really don’t wanna do this, ma’am.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t help you with that. Doctor van de Meer is responsible for the freshman class. For me to interfere would be wrong. My responsibility for you today is only as a chaperone—to keep you out of trouble.”

“Ma’am, I couldn’t be in any worse trouble than I am now.”

Kelly breezed by their conversation. “Still trying to wuss out of it, huh, Brandi?” the wild redhead teased him.

“You’d better believe it!” Brandon quipped back at his she-nemesis. “Something this crazy could only be your idea.”

Kelly flashed a rather supercilious smile at him. “Wait until you see what else I have planned for you.” She flipped her long, reddish curls behind her and went her way.

Just then, Dr. Da Silva saw a tall man wearing a chauffeur’s uniform appear at the main door of the Guidance Office. “Quiet, please!” she announced above the din. “The limo’s here. Please, follow the driver out to the limo.”

“Wait a minute!” Dr. Da Silva stopped the group of girls that had gathered around Brandon. Do all you girls have to go?”

“Of course,” Valerie spoke up for her girlfriends. “We’re here so Brandi doesn’t run away.”

“Then I guess you’d better come along, too,” concluded the counselor. “We can’t have our first boy princess running away, now, can we?”

Brandon had never ridden in a limousine before and the girls had him firmly positioned in among them for the ride to the mall. No, they weren’t letting him go. Still, he’d look for any chance to escape.

☆ ☆ ☆

Brandon awoke suddenly as a wave of anxiety surged over him. He felt his heart pounding, his breathing shallow. Sitting up in his bed, he trembled all over, feeling dizzy and light-headed—and afraid.

The glowing red LEDs of the clock on Brandon’s nightstand displayed 1:44. Outside his window, the still bright moon illuminated a now lessening cloud cover. The weaker penumbra of a shadow fell across his duvet. As the dizziness cleared, his eyes scanned the darkness for a vague something that he yet feared.

Brandon knew that he’d awakened from a nightmare, but found that he couldn’t remember it, except that it involved those girls at school. Then he felt disappointed, recalling that Jenny hadn’t appeared in it. He’d so hoped to dream of her tonight and of her kisses. He found himself first praying for some reason that all was well with her, then he smiled thinking of Jenny and let himself lie down on his pillow to return to sleep.

☆ ☆ ☆

The chauffeur pulled the limousine right up to the main entrance of the West Grove Mall. He came around to the back and opened the doors for the passengers. Brandon tried to linger behind in order to elicit the driver’s aid in an attempt to escape, but the girls of the Swarm kept him moving along with them.

Inside the mall, the procession moved past a large water fountain, where Brandon saw a maintenance worker in rubber coveralls wading waist-deep near its central jets, skimming a net across its surface. Next, they all got in line to ride an escalator up to the second floor of the building. On the slow ride up, he paid careful attention to the contours of the wooden railing along the top of the low barrier of safety glass surrounding the mall’s atrium.

Brandon hadn’t tried anything like what he had in mind since the seventh grade, but he hoped that it still might work. As he rode near to the upper floor, he set his focus on what was to follow. And even though he hadn’t thought of it consciously in a while, his well-trained kinesthetic intelligence was about to come into play.

Instead of stepping forward off the escalator, he hopped sideways onto his left foot, around which he pivoted his right, dashing towards the atrium. Brandon needed but a few strides at full speed to build the momentum up for his next move. He dived at the glass barrier, his palms toward the wooden railing, off which he pushed himself into a handspring out over the fountain. He tucked his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he splashed into the water below.

As spectacular as his attempt to evade his unwanted girlhood had been, Brandon had made two serious miscalculations. First, a few of the mall’s security personnel had immediately surrounded the fountain, preventing him from leaving; and next, wading through the waist-deep fountain, especially wearing waterlogged denim jeans, was slower than he’d anticipated.

“Wow, Brandon!” Valerie exclaimed, as she watched him wading toward the shallower water near the edge of the fountain. “Who’d’ve even thought you’d have moves like that?”

“Yes, Brandon,” observed Kelly. “After that display, you are so joining the cheer squad!”

Brandon’s heart sank as he quickly understood that his exploit had served only to drag him deeper into their girlish plans for him instead of helping to extricate himself from an impending and unwanted foray into girlhood. Kelly took cheerleading very seriously and if she wanted him as a cheerleader, then avoiding the cheer squad would be no less difficult than getting out of the Homecoming Court, which he still hadn’t managed. Brandon feared that he had lost control of his own life already.

The chaperone and senior class counselor, Dr. Da Silva came over and joined the conversation. “Now what was all that about?”

“Doctor da Silva, I really don’t wanna do this,” again complained Brandon, water dripping from his hair and clothes. “Please, send me home!”

“I’m sorry, but we don’t even have time to choose another Freshman Homecoming Princess,” Alice tried to reason with him. “That wouldn’t be fair to the freshman class.”

“Who finished second?” Brandon inquired.

“Kelly Harrigan,” Tina informed them, entering the discussion.

“Then let Kelly be Homecoming Princess,” argued Brandon. “She’s a girl, after all.”

“But I voted for you, Brandon,” whined Kelly. “I don’t wanna see you turn an honor like that down.”

“For a boy to be elected Homecoming Princess is no honor,” he objected to Kelly. “It’s an embarrassment, especially as I already have enough trouble being taken seriously as a boy.”

“But in the long run,” mused Alice, “is it more important for you to be accepted by other boys or by girls?”

Brandon had no ready answer to his friend’s question. He had never thought about it before.

☆ ☆ ☆

Two of the mall’s burlier security guards escorted Brandon up the escalator again, one ahead, the other behind. Two more awaited him at the top of the escalator, where each took him by an arm. Along with Kelly, Alice, and Dr. Da Silva, the guards escorted him into a wing of the mall. He found himself standing before a rather spacious-looking shop bearing a sign proclaiming it to be:


Kaufmann & Kaufmann’s
Wedding & Formalwear
Boutique for Men & Women

“Sirs,” Dr. Da Silva addressed the security officers, “could you escort him all the way into the boutique? He’s been very reluctant to cooperate today.”

“If you wanted cooperation, then you should’ve picked someone who wanted the job!” Brandon protested to everyone there. “Please, just let me go home!”

“Why you be so upset about this, kid?” one of the security guards, a very tall and heavy-looking African-American man, asked Brandon.

“Because they wanna dress me up like a girl to be a Homecoming Princess,” he replied. Brandon noticed the name C. ANDREWS on the guard’s nameplate.

“They want what?” C. Andrews asked again in disbelief. “You be a boy, ain’t-cha?”

“Yeah, but no one seems to be listening to me, except for you, Mister Andrews,” lamented Brandon. Is there any way you can help me get out of this?”

“No, you be here with a chaperone, so I best not mess with that,” the guard explained. “Our lawyers be angry if I do. You can call me Charlie, though.”

“Glad to meetcha, Charlie. I’m Brandon.” They shook hands. Then the boy just sighed. “This is so not fair.”

“Kid—Brandon, life ain’t fair,” advised Charlie. “So you have to hold on to your character when it be rough on you. Is a whole lot worse that could happen to you than bein’ a boy wearin’ a dress. ’Cause you know you be a boy, don’t really matter what nobody else think.”

For the first time since homeroom that morning, Brandon began to relax just a little. He looked around at the security personnel waiting to return to their customary duties. He glanced at Dr. Da Silva, Tina Flaubert, Valerie, Kelly, Alice, and the other girls, all of whom were looking to him—not at him, but to him.

“Brandon, we’re sorry for springing all this on you,” apologized a very red-faced Valerie Schmidt. “We can’t force you to do this, but if we simply ask you, will you do it?”

“Please?” Tina asked, her eyes almost begging him. “Even though you’re a boy, the vote was fair and you did win.”

“And Charlie’s right,” affirmed Alice. “Doing this won’t change who you really are inside.”

Brandon looked over to Charlie, who slowly nodded back to him with a slight grin. Somehow, he felt that he could trust Charlie. Then suddenly, dripping wet, the boy sneezed.

“Alright!” Brandon resolved. “Let’s do this! And someone please help me get out of these wet clothes.”

☆ ☆ ☆

As he felt the cold sweat on his forehead and then shuddered from a chill, Brandon discovered that his pajamas were soaking wet. Then he sneezed and sneezed again. The clock glowed 2:51.

Reaching over to his nightstand, he turned the lamp on, rolled slowly out of bed, then went to his dresser and opened the top drawer. The baby doll set that Mom had gotten him was still there, but somehow he didn’t want those just now. He looked under the baby doll and found another clean set of pajamas, which he took and closed the drawer.

Brandon turned the lamp at his nightstand off and let his kinesthetic memory guide him to the bathroom. Going in he shut the door and turned the overhead light on. In the mirror, he could see through his wet, sweat-soaked pajamas. So he quickly shed them and used a large towel to dry off. He had decided not to take a shower, as it might wake someone else. Next dressing himself in his clean pajamas, he dropped the wet ones and the dirty towel in the hamper. Turning the light out, he started downstairs.

Not fully awake, Brandon had no idea where he was going or why. But he was thirsty and his body was giving him instructions to rehydrate and replenish lost electrolytes. He somnambulated into the kitchen, went directly to the refrigerator, opened its door, and took out a small bottle of his favorite thirst-quenching sports beverage.

Brandon had developed an affinity for such sports drinks while he took gymnastics lessons, which he had continued through the seventh grade. He opened the bottle and drank it down. A moment or so later, he had climbed the stairs and was in his bed again.

☆ ☆ ☆

Kelly and Alice asked Charlie to help them escort Brandon to the Ladies’ Room, just off the atrium of the second floor. While Valerie and Teri dashed to Maxine’s to get towels, a terrycloth robe, and slippers for Brandon, Holly and Debbi strolled into a nearby lingerie shop to get him a set of a matching bra and panty. Alice held the door to the Ladies’ Room open, then Kelly stepped inside first, turned around, and beckoned Brandon to enter. He looked up at Charlie.

“Son, I know you’re afraid of this, but you’re gonna be okay,” the tall, burly guard exhorted the boy. “And it’s okay to be afraid. Because when you’re afraid of doin’ somethin’, but do it anyway, that’s called courage. So you be a courageous fella to do all this.”

Brandon nodded to Charlie and went into the Ladies’ Room. Then Alice turned to the security guard herself, and with a demure smile of her own, quietly offered Charlie, “Thank you,” to which he politely doffed his cap.

Inside the restroom were three stalls, all of them vacant. Kelly directed Brandon into the middle one and closed the door. She waited until she heard the bolt latch, then commanded, “Alright, Brandi, strip! Then hand me your wet clothes.”

Slowly, he peeled his official West Grove High School polo shirt off and draped it over the stall door. He then knocked his sneakers off, but left those on the floor next to him. Next, he pushed his wet bluejeans down although they still clung to his legs, and draped them next to his polo shirt. Only his wet undershorts and socks remained, so he chose to remove the latter next, then placed them over top of his jeans.

“Brandi, when I told you to strip, I meant everything,” advised Kelly in a slightly menacing tone.

“I won’t take my shorts off until I have whatever’s gonna replace them in hand,” resolved Brandon. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to be hanging out stark naked in the Ladies’ Room.”

“Brandon, I swear you’re no fun!” Kelly whined.

“Cool it, Kelly!” Alice told her friend. “What do you expect? You’ve teased him almost daily since kindergarten. I’m sure he got tired of it a long time ago.”

“Absolutely!” Brandon concurred with Alice. “Kelly keeps on trying to intimidate me into liking her.”

“I do not!” Kelly denied, whining again.

“Yes, you do, Kelly!” Alice seconded Brandon’s charge. “You two might’ve gotten along if you could ever contain your desire to go over the top for almost everything.”

Just then, the door opened and Valerie and Teri entered with white towels, a white terrycloth robe, and matching slippers. So Kelly took the clothes down from the stall door that Brandon had draped over it, and Valerie replaced them with the towels and robe. Teri slid the pair of slippers under the stall door.

“Alright, Brandi, you have fresh, dry clothes available,” observed Kelly. So hand over your wet shorts and shoes, now!

He kicked his wet sneakers under the door and quickly slid his shorts down and off, tossing them up and out of the stall. He heard the girls all chorus “Eww!” as his discarded underwear landed wherever they did outside the stall. Brandon could not help but giggle girlishly at their reaction as he quickly pulled the terrycloth robe inside along with a towel. Hanging the robe on a hook behind the door, he dried himself off as quickly as possible with the towel. As soon as he had dried off, he put the robe and slippers on.

Brandon peeked out of the stall and made eye contact with Alice. “Come,” she said. “Your hair’s long enough, so let me show you how to wrap your hair in a towel. Usually, boys don’t know how to do that.” Since his long, wavy hair was still wet from his attempted escape, he acquiesced immediately to her suggestion. What surprised him was how quickly she had wrapped his hair turban-style. He’d need to see it done again.

Just then, Holly and Debbi returned with a bag from the lingerie shop. Debbi handed Brandon a matching set of a bra and panty in white satin. He retreated into the stall to put them on.

☆ ☆ ☆

“We gotta pick a dress out for you,” announced Kelly stepping into the boutique.

“Hey! If I gotta wear a dress, then I get to choose it,” Brandon told her.

“But what do you know about choosing a dress?” Kelly challenged him.

“Maybe not very much,” he replied. “But if that were so important, you should’ve voted for someone else.”

“He’s gotcha there, sister!” Alice quipped back to Kelly. “Look, Kelly and I can make suggestions and you can pick from them. Or if you wanna pick something out yourself, we’ll stop you if we think it’s really bad. But so long as it’s appropriate to the occasion, it’s your choice.”

“But Alice—,” whined Kelly.

“Hey! Now that Brandon has decided to go along with us on this, I think we need to meet him halfway.” Alice maintained. She turned to Brandon. “Does that sound fair to you?”

“Yeah, it does,” agreed the boy-becoming-princess. “I do need your help, but since I’m the one who has to go out there in front of everyone, I oughta get the last say in it.”

Kelly began to remark something, but both Alice and Brandon looked at her in a way to suggest closing the discussion down. “Kelly, we’ve worked all day to bring Brandon on board,” Alice reminded her. “Now that he is, quit pushing so hard.”

“Oh, alright!” Kelly agreed pouting. “But that’s the fun of it.”

“Well, maybe for you,” objected Brandon, “but it’s no fun for me.”

“Spoilsport!” Kelly called him.

“Down girls!” Alice ordered them.

“Killjoy!” Kelly retorted at her.

Continuing into the boutique, Brandon wondered at the variety of dresses and gowns inside. He found himself attracted to how many of the garments seemed to glisten in the ambient light. When he held them, rubbing the textiles between his thumb and fingers, they felt soft. He lifted the fabric to his face, feeling its luxury, its sensuality.

“You like that, don’t you?” asked an older woman of maybe thirty-five years. “And you’re the boy whom I heard was coming?”

“So you already know?” Brandon asked.

“Of course I do,” she replied. “It’s my business to know. By the way, I’m Greta Kaufmann. I own this boutique together with my brother, George. I handle the women’s formals while he takes care of the men’s.”

“My name’s Brandon MacDonald, I’ve been chosen as a Homecoming Princess against my will,” he said. “And I think I’d prefer your brother’s assistance.”

Greta just giggled. “I’m sure you would and maybe another time you will, but I do know why you’re here and I can promise you that Maxine and myself will not let you suffer the indignity of looking like a boy awkwardly wearing a dress. Now, do you mind if I just call you ‘Brandi’?” Greta asked. “It will help us both to think of you as a girl.”

“May as well. Everyone else is. But I’m not a girl—I’m a boy!” Brandon insisted. “I never wanted to do this.”

“You almost never do,” observed Greta. “But when you get it done, it’s almost as hard for you to go back.”

Brandon stood there, puzzled by what she had just said. “Whaddya mean by ‘You almost never do’? I don’t get it, Miss Kaufmann.”

Greta flashed a quick smile at him. “Every now and then, Brandi, a boy comes in here, not for a tux, but for a dress or gown. Most often in those situations, his big sister, or auntie, or a girl cousin suddenly needs another bridesmaid and a brother or a nephew or a boy cousin is close to the right size or has the right ‘look’ for the wedding party.”

“How often does that happen?”

“Not too often,” replied Greta. “Maybe once, twice a year. You’re the third boy who’s come in to be fitted as a girl this year, and the first for anything other than a bridesmaid.”

“I get such dubious honors.”

“Brandi, most of the boys that I’ve helped dress up have liked how they looked when they saw themselves in the mirror. A few have even come back to do it again.”

“Remember that, Brandi,” warned Kelly. “You might want to get your prom dress here, too.”

“Kelly, can’t you sing another tune?” Brandon quipped back at her.

Kelly grinned at him, then sang:

“H-A-double-R-I-G-A-N spells ‘Harrigan’… That’s me!”

She pirouetted quickly, causing the pleats of her skirt to fly up and out, then skipped away, looking over her shoulder with a naughty grin.

“So, Brandi, what kind of dress did you have in mind?” Miss Kaufmann asked.

“I didn’t have anything in mind,” denied Brandon. “This whole affair was sprung on me without warning today. And I don’t know anything about dresses.”

“Ma’am, do you have something that would emphasize the intense blue color of Brandi’s eyes?” Alice mused to Miss Kaufmann. “Let’s go for stunning. He’s becoming a princess after all. We’re hoping we can convince him to stay a girl.”

“Not happening!” Brandon interjected. “This affair is one time only.”

“Don’t speak too soon, Brandi,” teased Kelly dancing by. “You really do belong in dresses.”

“Ma’am, I’m consenting to this for just today, and reluctantly,” the boy maintained. “So let’s get it done.”

Miss Kaufmann smiled as she led Brandon between racks of dresses and gowns. She paused briefly at a few of them, taking a dress or gown here or there, holding each up to his face. Most were in some shade of blue. Finally, she found a gown in an intense, vibrant sky blue, perfectly complimenting his eyes.

“This is yours!” Greta declared. “Its color will highlight your beautiful eyes to best advantage.”

The silk dress was somewhat like a cheongsam, a backless halter design with a Mandarin collar and a diamond-shaped keyhole neckline, yet not revealing too much cleavage. Open slits on each side extended from the hem of its ankle length skirt to the thigh. White piping outlined the hem, slits, halter, keyhole, and collar. The effect was neither too demure, nor overly daring for a teenaged girl’s first formal gown—or in this case, for a teenaged boy’s.

“Well, it’s pretty,” acknowledged Brandon, his tone conveying a distinct lack of enthusiasm. “You’ll help me into it?”

“Of course,” Greta assured him. “But first, we have to get you the right lingerie to wear under it.”

“What’s wrong with the lingerie I’m wearing now?” Brandon wondered aloud. “I’m kinda new at this, after all.”

“Well, the panty’s fine,” affirmed Alice. “But I’m guessing you’ll need a corset or a waist-cincher, too. And I’m not sure about a bra with that gown, though. What do you think, Miss Kaufmann?”

“This design calls for a strapless bra, so he’d need to be fitted especially for one,” explained Greta. “And since it’s a halter gown, it’s backless, so any corset or waist-cincher must be worn below the back.”

“That makes sense,” acknowledged Brandon. “But I’m a boy and boys don’t have breasts.”

“Not to worry, Brandi!” Greta beamed. “We can fix that, too!”

“Somehow, I was afraid you might say that,” replied Brandon.

☆ ☆ ☆

The girls escorted Brandon from Kaufmann & Kaufmann’s Boutique to Maxine’s New House of Glamour. Kelly carried his new formal gown in a garment bag, while Alice brought along the new corset with garter tabs and stockings. Brandon himself carried a new pair of shoes: ankle-strapped, closed-toe sandals in navy blue with four-inch (10 cm) heels.

Brandon had never undergone a makeover before. This wasn’t too surprising, as boys don’t usually have such an experience growing up. But since he had, after fighting it all morning, given in and agreed to be “made over” as a suitable Freshman Homecoming Princess, he had resolved to try to learn as much about the process as possible. Also, since the girls had finally backed off from their relentless teasing once Dr. Da Silva had convinced them to think about what was happening from Brandon’s point of view, he felt less besieged and his anxiety declined.

Still the experience remained quite overwhelming for Brandon. The owner of the salon, Maxine Littlejohn, a cheerful, petite, blue-eyed blonde of forty years of age, had assigned an entire team of beauty experts to him, as indeed she had done for each member of the Homecoming Court. Wearing the white terrycloth robe and slippers, he was worked on by his own hair stylist, a technician giving him a facial, nail technicians doing a full manicure and pedicure, and another technician to give him a full body wax. (He really hated the waxing and did not understand why it was necessary.)

The makeovers took a long time, and since they were missing lunch, the girls sent out for smoothies from a nearby kiosk in the mall’s food court. Brandon’s preference was for a peanut butter-chocolate-banana smoothie that Alice bought for him there. She stayed with him through most of the makeover, explaining what was being done and why. She showed him a catalogue of hairstyles as well while he waited through the various steps of the process.

About the time Brandon finished his smoothie, he looked up from a magazine to see, of all people, Walter Paulson standing in front of him with two underlings. Brandon hadn’t seen Wally since the latter had been expelled from middle school for bullying. And of course, Brandon always had been Wally’s favorite target.

“Lookie here guys!” Wally said to his two thugs. “It’s the girly-boy again. Guys, should we beat ’im up now, or wait ’til he’s been dressed up first?”

“I’d say now, boss,” suggested one of his “lieutenants.”

“I prefer to wait ’til they put him in a dress,” said the other. “Then I can be sure he’s a queer.”

“Well, we could get him both now and later,” chuckled Wally.

“That restraining order against you is permanent, Wally,” complained Brandon. “You could get in trouble just for being here.”

“So?” Wally dismissed the warning. “Who’s gonna tell? You?”

“Well now, if Brandon don’t tell, maybe I will,” announced Charlie Andrews, suddenly standing behind the gang of bullies, accompanied by two other burly security guards. “Brandon be my friend. You best be gone from here.”

Charlie and the other two guards were each bigger than the bullies. Wally and his associates slowly backed down and left the salon. The security personnel followed them out to the mall’s winding second-floor corridor.

“Now, you boys leave my friend Brandon alone,” Charlie warned Wally.

“So what if I don’t?” challenged Wally. “You’re just a lowly rent-a-cop. You don’t have any real authority.” He lunged forward and swung his fist at the security guard.

Suddenly, Wally looked down from the peak of his trajectory to the fountain into which he was about to fall. Hearing the splash below, Charlie and his colleagues turned to face Wally’s two associates still remaining. “I think you boys should go help your buddy out of the fountain down there,” Charlie told them, stretching his arms after the jiu-jitsu move that had just put Wally into the air. “After all, friends helpin’ friends is what life’s all about, don’t-cha think?”

The two bullies scrambled down the nearest stairway to the main floor and made their way to the fountain, where they helped Wally out of the water. A couple of other security guards followed them to be certain that the bullies had left the mall. Charlie stepped back into the salon.

“Charlie, did you hafta throw Wally into the fountain?” Brandon asked him, chuckling.

“Hey! He tried to rush me and take a swing at me,” explained Charlie, grinning jovially. “He should’ve known better.”

“Thanks, Charlie,” offered Brandon.

“Anytime, kid,” he assured him, smiling broadly. “Anytime!”

☆ ☆ ☆

Brandon awoke again, but this time feeling relieved. He had dreamed, of all people, about his nemesis, Wally Paulson, and that a security guard had thrown the bully into the West Grove Mall’s central fountain. Brandon couldn’t help but smile at the image from his dream. Glancing at his clock, the time read 3:38.

He looked out the window and noticed that barely a wisp of cloud remained in the night sky and the waning quarter of the moon lit the scene up. The boy thought of Jenny once again, and retreated back into sleep.

☆ ☆ ☆

Brandon stood spellbound as a beautiful young woman stared back at him from the full-length mirror in a dressing room at Maxine’s. He found the idea that the reflection were his own very unsettling, but the evidence was right there, plainly before him. The soft, silky garments felt luxurious against his skin. Even the corset, as uncomfortable as it was, let him feel as elegant as he looked. The beautiful, deep sky-blue gown seemed to hug girlish curves that he was unaware his boy’s figure could even possess. The sensation of the silk stockings clinging to his smooth, hairless legs was exquisite. He could feel the added height of the four-inch heels on his feet.

His hair had been styled up in a French twist and the nail technicians had given him a French manicure, which made little sense to him as he wore white, elbow-length, satin gloves. He barely recalled someone piercing his ears for him to wear the pair of sapphire studs sparkling in the mirror. A silver chain held a matching cross set with sapphires as a necklace, emphasizing an illusory cleavage that seemed real enough. A matching bracelet adorned his right wrist over his glove and he wore a silver ladies watch on his left. The cosmetologist had carefully shaped his eyebrows and applied makeup to compliment his blue eyes. And she had also applied a shiny lipgloss to his lips. He wished that Jenny were there for him to kiss. If only Jenny were there, Brandon thought that he might face this with confidence and even pride.

Alice stepped into view and draped a royal blue velvet wrap around his shoulders. Pulling it close around himself, he felt even more like a girl. “One more detail is needed and your look is complete,” announced Alice. She handed him a navy blue clutch bag matching his shoes and continued. “A lady always carries a purse. A clutch purse is a favorite at formal occasions, but if you prefer, this one has a silver chain inside that you can clip onto the bag for carrying.” Alice stepped out of the mirror’s view.

“See, Brandi?” Kelly asked looking at Brandon, fully resplendent in his feminine finery. “You’re much too pretty, much too fabulous as a girl not to take full advantage of it.”

“That’s why Kelly stepped aside and supported a write-in campaign,” explained Alice. “She believed that you’d be a prettier Homecoming Princess than herself.”

“And we all know that you have an inner girl—a strong inner girl whom you need to let out,” Kelly added.

“But when, where, and how—and even if I let her out is my choice and mine alone—not yours,” asserted Brandon. “I’m angry with all of you for hijacking my decision. You had no right to take that from me.”

“But—,” began Kelly.

“You had no right!” Brandon reiterated, interrupting her. “I’ve agreed to continue this only out of loyalty to the school.”

“Brandi’s right, Kelly,” Alice supported him. “You’re way too keen to make him into a girl. Frankly, it doesn’t make sense.”

“Well, it does,” maintained Kelly. “You see, I’m in love with you, Brandon, and I have been for a long time. But I think that I’m a lesbian, so you hafta become ‘Brandi’ for us to be together.”

☆ ☆ ☆

Waking from his dream, Brandon felt anxious and frightened. Once again he wiped the cold, clammy perspiration from his forehead with his pajama sleeve. The time from the clock on the nightstand shone brightly as 4:06.

The image of himself as a princess looking back from a mirror was already seared into his mind. Would he look like that as a girl? Could he possibly be so pretty? The thought both excited and frightened him.

And what about Kelly? Had she been in love with him? If so, then for how long? He never knew that she felt that way. After all, how could he? She’d never said anything to him about it. And Brandon had never even imagined that Kelly might be lesbian. She was a nice Catholic girl, after all. Besides, if she were a lesbian it would make no sense for her to be in love with him. That just had to be the craziness of the nightmare.

Once again, he tried to snuggle into his now damp pillow, but anxiety made getting back to sleep difficult. Nonetheless, one technique had been successful tonight. Brandon thought of Jenny’s soft, wet lips pressing against his.

☆ ☆ ☆

The stretch limousine pulled up to an open gate at West Grove High School’s side of the football field. The uniformed chauffeur got out of the vehicle first. He went around to the right side to open the back door for the Homecoming Queen and her Court to exit the limousine. Again, the girls of the Swarm maintained their huddle, keeping Brandon in their midst, although he had given up his thoughts of escape in favor of riding it out, hoping that his true identity would not be disclosed.

They escorted him into a large tent that had been set up near the sideline at midfield. Inside he recognized his best friend, Jeff, smartly attired in a tuxedo and black tie.

“I’m sorry, Jeff,” apologized Brandon. “I can’t believe they dragged you into this, too. I asked for Jenny to be my consort. They must’ve mistaken ‘Jenny’ for ‘Jeffrey.’ ”

“Well, that’s okay, buddy,” Jeff assured him. “I got your back. “But why didn’t you tell me you’re gay?”

“Because I’m not gay!”

“Then if you’re not gay, why did you run for Freshman Homecoming Princess?”

“I didn’t,” objected Brandon. “They wrote me in.”

“But you dressed up like a girl.”

“No, they dressed me up like a girl.”

“You mean the Swarm?” Jeff asked in a whisper.

“Yeah,” affirmed his friend.

“No way around it?”

“I looked for a way out all morning, but they never let up watching me,” explained Brandon. “I couldn’t catch a break, so after talking it through, I decided just to go along with it.”

An excited Tina Flaubert squealed as the timekeeper’s pistol signaled the end of the half. Immediately when the teams had retired to their locker rooms for halftime, two burly guys took opposite ends of a large red cylindrical roll and began to unfurl it along the 50-yardline to midfield—a literal red carpet. Tina pointed to its end inside the tent, indicating that “Brandi” and “her” escort would be at the head of the procession. Jeff offered “Brandi” his arm which “she” accepted in proper form by grasping it just above his elbow.

Jeff sighed as the tent flaps were drawn back. “Y’know, this was bad enough, but now we gotta go out there first so the ceremonies build up to the Senior Homecoming Princess and Homecoming Queen at the end.”

“I feel hopelessly silly in this get-up,” Brandon complained. “And these shoes hurt. They’re four-inch stiletto heels. Not even the girls at school could wear these.”

“Stop whining, Brandi,” ordered Valerie as she passed by. “You’re the prettiest girl here tonight.”

“But I’m a boy!” Brandon reiterated another time.

“That complaint was already old this morning,” Debbi reminded him. “Get used to girlhood already.” She flipped her hair and walked on.

“Well, at least you don’t look like a boy in a dress,” remarked Jeff. “That would be even worse.”

“You do know that we’re supposed to go as a couple to the Homecoming Dance tomorrow night, don’t you?” Brandon asked his friend as a warning. “These girly festivities are set up to take over your life.”

Jeff mimed a gagging motion with his index finger. Brandon giggled at him. “Seriously,” Jeff said, “if we gotta go on a date, I’d rather have a quiet night of videogames at your place.”

“Me, too,” agreed Brandon, quite grateful that his best friend seemed to be taking the whole affair in stride. “Again, Jeff, I’m so sorry I got you into this,” Brandon offered him an apology once more.

“I’m sorry you did, too,” Jeff replied chuckling. “But it’s okay. Friends do things like this for each other.”

“Have any revenge in mind?” Brandon asked. A wide, deranged smile crossed Jeff’s face and Brandon raised his free hand to cover his sputtering lips.

“Friends do things like that for each other, too,” Jeff affirmed, still beaming his mischievous grin. “Don’t worry, we’ll think of something.”

Just then, they all heard a voice from the public address announcing the Homecoming Court. Tina was already standing on a temporary dais at midfield with a microphone, about to read off the names.

“Okay, you two,” Valerie ordered Jeff and Brandon, pushing each of them between the shoulders, forcing them out of the tent and onto the red carpet. “Go!”

“And now, we introduce our first honoree,” Tina began. “Our Homecoming Princess from the Freshman Class of West Grove High School is ‘Brandi’ MacDonald, escorted by Jeffrey Padgett. Brandi is wearing an original gown by Greta Kaufmann. Also known as ‘Brandon’ MacDonald, he’s the first boy to be elected as a Homecoming Princess in the history of our school district…”

Brandon stopped in his tracks, motionless on the red carpet—motionless, that was, until he began trembling. He turned his eyes to Jeff in desperation. “She told! She freaking told everyone!”

“Definitely unfair and uncool,” Jeff agreed calmly, supporting his friend by the arm. “And I’m screwed, too. But stay calm, buddy, and we’ll make it through this yet.”

Looking up into the bleachers, Brandon saw that all the seats were filled. “No, this can’t be happening,” he cried. “It can’t be happening. It can’t happen. It’s not happening. It’s not for real.” Brandon dropped to his knees and screamed at the top of his voice:

“No…!”

☆ ☆ ☆

“It’s Brandon!” Libby awoke with a start. “Something’s wrong!” Nathan sprang out of bed and they both dashed to their son’s bedroom. The wife and mother was already at her son’s bedside. The room illuminated only by moonlight, she had begun to work on him without delay. Nathan flicked the overhead light on as he entered behind Libby.

Awakening from his nightmare, Brandon had cried out weakly. He was shaking and wheezing, trying to breathe. His mom grabbed his wrist and felt for his pulse with one hand while trying to soothe his frightened face with the other.

“Pulse is racing, weak, and irregular,” Libby told her husband. “No fever, but his pajamas are soaked.” Suddenly she smelled a discharge of urine. “He just wet himself, too.”

“What’s wrong?” Sheila asked in a scared voice at the scene unfolding in her brother’s room.

“Honey, get my kit—now!” her father yelled to her, raising his ear from Brandon’s chest. She ran to her dad’s study and grabbed the black medical bag from its shelf beside his desk. She ran it back immediately to her dad, holding it open as she arrived.

“Bag him,” Nathan ordered Libby, not as husband to wife, but as physician to nurse, handing her the breath-valve mask (BVM) from his kit. When she put its mask over their son’s face, her husband began pumping the bag. “Breathe, Brandon! Breathe!” the physician and father cried out.

“Call an ambulance!” the mother told her daughter firmly, looking right into her eyes. Tears streaming and lip quivering, Sheila grabbed the smartphone from her brother’s desk and keyed 911.

Continuandum…

©2013 by Anam Chara

“Harrigan” lyrics, George M. Cohan.

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Comments

Debriefings dream or alive...

Chara continues one very well thought out and written story!
Between joyful and powerful, Brandon or Brandi
The impact of pressuring someone is seen as a real concern.

Hugs, JessieC

Jessica E. Connors

Jessica Connors

Fight a good fight.

So you satisfy your self but then you need to go with your flow and acknowledge the truth of your life, before the panic attack stops your heart. Hang in there kid.

Huggles
Michele

With those with open eyes the world reads like a book

celtgirl_0.gif

Everyones has been

advance cliffhangers course it seems. Great episode, an very scary nightmare.

Goddess Bless you

Love Desiree

Panic attack

That is what it sounds like to me.

Kim

Oh dear!

Melange's picture

That's a lot of stress for a young person to handle. Recurring nightmares (or ceaseless nightmares, in this case) sounds just horrible.

Hmmm... Putting myself on "wait and see" mode..,

Ole Ulfson's picture

At first I was having trouble reading this chapter: Stopped twice, in fact. I hate to see anyone forced by authority. Then I realized that something was off! While the school could allow this, even encourage this they could not force it.

Think of the repercussions. Lawsuits, protests from the PTA and the local bigot groups, involvement by the ACLU. This would also be considered bullying which now has zero tolerance (at least on paper) in most school systems. So I finally figured out that what I was reading wasn't quite reality, and was able to finish.

Damned if I know where you're going next with this, I can figure 3 trajectories, each mutually exclusive of the others. But wherever you're going, I'm hooked and will be along for the ride!

Wonderful plotting and storytelling.

Ole

We are each exactly as God made us. God does not make mistakes!

Gender rights are the new civil rights!

Just as frightening

the second time through. Excellent story, looking forward to the next chapter.

Goddess Bless you

Love Desiree

Dream so realistic

Jamie Lee's picture

What a dream, so realistic, waking Brandon several times and a change of pajamas once.

But what if his dream is a foreshadow of things to come? That the swarm did campaign a write in vote for Brandon? To force him into being the girl they've been badgering him about?

Anything can occur in dreams, but not so in wake time. So if there was a write in campaign to get Brandon elected as freshman princess, they would still need his approval to participate. And if he agreed, every jackass would be gunning for him after it was over. And he could end up in the hospital.

Others have feelings too.

The dream ...

... started feeling a bit too scary for me. I think I only got about a third or half way through it before I hadda scroll down to where Brandon wakes up. Other days I mighta been okay readin' alla way through, but this wasn't one of my better days. I may try reading the rest of the dream some time later. In the mean time, I'm gonna try just movin' on to the next chapter. Even though the dream was a bit rough for me, I'm still really enjoying this story. Thank you for sharing it, Anam!

Has Brandon seen something in

Has Brandon seen something in Kelly over the years to give him a hint that she likes girls ?

If Kelly "knew" Brandon was a girl before he did, did he know she liked girls before she knew ?