Six weeks later, my brother and I wore boy clothes for the first time since we broke up for summer. Mrs Brown asked us if we’d had a nice summer when we returned to school. “Yes Miss,” we replied as the other kids cast us peculiar looks, whispered to one another and giggled. We took our seats and waited for the rest of the class to arrive before Mrs Brown took the register. Clearly we weren’t being altogether honest when we said we’d had a nice summer.
“Good morning girls.” Mrs Brown said as three more pupils entered the classroom. A host of giggles and goshes erupted as John, Michael and Stephen entered, each wearing the girl’s uniform. Peter and I couldn’t believe it. Neither could most of the other children.
Mrs Brown stood all three of them at the front of the class, and explained why they’re dressed as girls. “Since they’ve proved they cannot be good boys, we’re going to see if John, Michael and Stephen can be good girls instead,” she said, before making it clear that if any of the boys tease them, they’ll find themselves in exactly the same predicament. “Now John, if you’ll go and sit with Cassie. Peter with Joanna and Stephen with Vanessa… they’ll be your chaperones, so stick with them and do exactly as they tell you.”
