Being at college is loads better than being at school. There’s no uniform for a start, the subjects are more interesting, there’s no PE, RE or IT to endure and I’ve made a few new friends too. It’s not uncommon for a handful of us to go down by the creek and sit talking, smoking and generally killing time between our classes. Today I sit with Harriot and Timothy… and as usual, Timothy is moaning about his parents. I wouldn’t mind but his folks are loaded and all his supposed problems can be attributed to him being a spoilt little brat who’s struggling to grow up. He’s a nice enough guy but sometimes I wish he’d give his ‘my parents are so unfair’ mantra a rest. I guess Harriot was also at the end of her tether with his incessant whining because she told him that he has no idea just how lucky he is. She described her own home life which leaves both of us speechless. She grew up with an alcoholic mother and an abusive yet mostly absent father. Any nice clothes she had were second hand and she endured years of teasing and taunting at school for being scruffy, spotty, speccy and so on. Once she’d informed Timothy just how bad growing up could be in a broken home where money is scarce, he shut his mouth. “What about you Drew?” she asked me. “Your Mum’s a single parent isn’t she?”
I nodded and Harriot asked what she’s like. “She’s OK I guess. She used to be a bit mad but…”
“My Mother’s bonkers!” Timothy interupted. “She even irons socks… and if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s creases in my T shirt sleeves…” Harriot and I shared a sly grin and rolled our eyes as Timothy resumed his rant about how bad his life in a cushy middle class home is. We let him rant away though, and thankfully mid-rant, he realised that he was supposed to be somewhere and darted off.
“See ya tomorrow Timothy.” we said in unison.
“Poor lad… having creases in his T shirt sleeves.” Harriot giggled. “My mum didn’t even have an iron and if she did she’d have pawned it for a bottle of gin.”
This made me laugh out loud but it wasn’t funny. “Sorry. It’s the way you said it, not what you said.”
“Ah it’s OK… I could write a book about my mother’s drunken antics” she replied.
“So…” Harriot asks after short yet comfortable silence. “When you say your Mum was a bit mad… how do you mean?”
After seeking her assurance that she wouldn’t tell anyone, I said “Well, she wasn’t a psycho or schizo or anything like that.. but she did make me and my brother wear dresses.” I gulped before defensively adding, “Not all the time… just occasionally.”
“Wow!” Harriot exclaimed as she lit two cigarettes and passed one to me. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Thanks.” I said as I took the lit cigarette from her, “It was pretty weird.” I added before taking a long deep toke of my ciggy. I didn’t want to reveal everything to Harriot… in fact I wasn’t sure I should be revealing anything to her, but it feels good to talk and she seems as if she’s capable of listening without prejudice.
“So… how come your Mum made you wear dresses?” she asked. “Was it a punishment thing?”
“No nothing like that.” I replied. “My younger brother went to high school in Crickley…” I began.
“Which one?” she asked.
“Malham Hall.” I cautiously replied.
“I had a feeling you were going to say that.” she replied, “It’s a very good school.”
“Not if you’re a boy it ain’t.” I retorted before taking another drag of my fag. “Well…” I backtracked. “…it is a good school I suppose… it’s just the boy’s uniform isn’t so good.” I said. I didn’t tell her that my mother turned Vincent into a girl and insisted we called him Sophie as she didn’t need to know about that, but did tell her about him having to dress like a girl for school as that is the precursor to Mum making me wear dresses. “My big bro and I used to tease him something rotten.” I confessed. “But we were just picking on an easy target.”
“So… your brother went to Malham Hall…” Harriot said. “…and you went to Broadoak Road, which isn’t an EP school?” she quizzed, adding “Educational Petticoating” for clarity. I nodded and she continued. “So… how come you ended up wearing dresses then.”
I sighed. “I dunno… it just sort of happened.” I replied. “You promise you won’t tell anyone?”
Harriot assured her confidentiality and dug a little deeper. I cast my mind back five years to that fateful summer when it all began…
It’s been a very strange summer, what with his mum fussing over his sister all the time and saying “Doesn’t Sonia look pretty today?”.”Doesn’t Sonia’s hair look nice in ringlets?”, “Doesn’t Sonia’s dress look nice?” “Sonia this” and “Sonia that” became a daily… no, an hourly occurrence. It wouldn’t be so weird if Sonia really was a girl, but she’s not… she’s his younger brother Vincent and their mother decided she wanted… no, needed a daughter… and Vincent was the obvious choice since Andrew’s was considered too ugly and Gregory is too old.
Today is a big day for Vincent because today is the day that Mum is taking him to get his new school uniform. We all knew he’d be dressing like a girl at his new school, but I think even Vincent was overwhelmed by just how big a fuss our mother made about it. “Do I have to?” he moaned when Mum told him to go and try the summer uniform on.
“Of course Sonia dear!” Mum replied in her annoying overly joyous voice she’d adopted. “Girls love trying on new outfits.” she reminded him.
“Oh… OK.” Vincent coyly replied.
“Leave him Gregory.” I suggest as our older brother Gregory sneers under his breath.
“Her!” Mum reminds me. I mumble an apology and glance at Vincent. “Run along Sonia… I can’t wait to see how it looks.” Mum excitedly tells him. My heart kind of goes out to my little brother at times like this. I know he doesn’t like being a girl as whilst he appears to be accepting and willing, there’s a clear reluctance in his voice and on his face. I can’t imagine what it must be like for him, having to pretend to be a girl day in day out. A few weeks ago he was a normal boy just like me until one Saturday when Mum turned him into her daughter, and that daughter could have easily been me!
Looking back, it seems almost laughable that a simple card game would hold such high stakes. I’ll point out that this was no tense game of poker, but a frantic game of Happy Families that would decide which of us three brothers would become ‘Sonia’. I still recall the fury I felt when Vincent slammed his cards down on the table, leaving the competition between Gregory and myself. But this soon turned to elation when Mum pointed out that the winner will become her new daughter and our new sister. All three of us assumed that the loser would have to become a girl, which meant we were all playing to win… and the fact that I was so close to winning still sends shivers down my spine.
My heart went out to Vincent as he sloped off to his room clutching his gingham school dress whilst Gregory called him names. But somewhere deep in my gut I hate my little brother every time he says ‘OK mummy’ whenever Mum wants him to try on a new dress or tie ribbons in his hair or embark on some other girlie activity. I know I’d be at least putting up a proper fight!
“Andrew can be nice to Sonia so why you can’t Gregory I’ll never know!” Mum said to my big brother. Mum and Gregory often have this conversation, but I don’t get involved. On the one hand I agree with Gregory that ‘Sonia’ isn’t a girl and should be dressing or acting like one, but on the other hand I agree with Mum… Vincent’s simply trying his best in difficult circumstances and we should be more supportive instead of being nasty. This puts me on the fence so I’ve stopped teasing Vincent for acting and dressing all girlie, but I do try to avoid calling him ‘Sonia’ or referring to him as ‘her’ or ‘she’… in fact I tend to avoid talking to him altogether since he became Sonia.
Mum shouted up the stairs. “Come on Sonia… we’re all waiting to see how it looks!”
“I’m not!” Gregory sneered as he shot up from his chair and stormed out of the house.
Mum shook her head as he left then looked at me. I smiled through pursed lips, but I didn’t know what I was smiling about. We both watched as Vincent shyly walked down the staircase wearing his new school uniform. It’s one of those bog standard gingham school dresses that junior school girls wear, but in purple instead of the more common blue or green. Mum fussed over how smart he looked, made him try his school cardigan on, then the blazer, and possibly worst of all, a straw boater hat! It was uncomfortable viewing so I headed for my room. “What are you doing Andrew?” Mum asked me. “Well whilst your there, can you put your uniform on too please?” she added.
“What for?” I asked.
“Because I’d like a photo of you and Sonia in your school uniforms.” Mum replied. I tried to moan my way out of it but it was no use. After taking several photos of us, Mum sent Vincent to change into his winter uniform. Mum faffs with my tie and my hair whilst he’s upstarts. Vincent returns wearing a purple & green plaid pinafore dress over a white blouse with a broad round collar. On his feet are the same Mary Jane’s, but his legs are clad in a pair of dark green woolly tights.
Once again, Mum stands us side by side and begins taking photographs. Gregory returns, sneers at both of us and makes derogatory comments about our smart new uniforms,and bangs about in our bedroom, clearly looking for something. After a few seconds he bounds back down, sneers once more in our direction and storms out of the door again, slamming it behind him. Mum advised us to take no notice of him before she started fussing over Vincent once more. “Can I get one with your hat on?” Mum asked/told him.
“That’s a different hat!” I stated as he reluctantly donned a grey hat instead of the yellowy straw one.
“It’s the winter hat.” Vincent replied, glancing up at its brim. The winter hat is grey felt with the school crest embroidered on the front and a purple band similar to the one on his summer hat. Its brim isn’t as wide and its top much more rounded than his square edged straw boater.
“It’s better than the other one.” I said as I imagined having to wear something similar.
Vincent cast me an appreciative smile before Mum started faffing with his fringe and his collar before standing back to admire us. Mum wanted pictures of him wearing his hat, without his hat, then with his blazer on, fastened and unfastened. I suggested I go and put my anorak on, but Mum dismissed my jovial suggestion and told me to stop being silly before faffing with Vincent again.
After a few snaps of myself and Vincent wearing his winter uniform, Mum tells me to get changed before I ‘ruin my new trousers’, then told ‘Sonia’ to go and try his PE kit on, which he’d clearly rather not do. Mum tells him that she needs to make sure everything fits as she sorts through the numerous cellophane packed items. “Shirt, skirt, knickers and socks.” she says as she bundles the items to together.
Vincent glances at me and rolls his eyes. I throw him a reassuring smile before we head for our bedrooms. It wasn’t too long ago that Vincent and I shared a bedroom, but since mum turned him into Sonia, I’ve been sharing with Gregory… and Gregory’s presence is evident in the mess I now have to put up with. I shut the drawers he’d left open before changing out of my school uniform and pull on my jeans and a t-shirt. I return to the kitchen and Mum asks if I’ve hung my shirt and trousers up properly. “Yes.” I reply before my eyes follow Mum’s towards the stairs.
“Oh very sporty.” Mum says to Vincent as he slowly descends.
“It’s too short.” Vincent gulps as he looks down at himself.
“It’s supposed to be short.” Mum replied. “Have you got your gym knickers on too?” she asks, prompting him to reveal the thick purple panties he wears beneath his pleated purple skirt.
I can still barely believe that there’s a school in which the boys have to dress like girls… and as I understand it, most of them are normal boys like me and Gregory… not pretend girls like Vincent. I can understand them dressing like girls if they’re in Vincent’s position, but when they’re not it just seems wrong.
“They’re lovely colours Sonia.” Mum says as she fusses around Vincent. As usual, Vincent just puts up with her faffing as he models his ‘outdoor’ PE kit. Alongside his pleated purple skirt, he wears thick woolly knee socks in green and a short sleeved polo shirt, also in green. The is embellished with the school crest embroidered over the left breast and wide purple stripes down each side, running from armpit to waist. Mum picks up yet another polythene wrapped item and hands it to Vincent. “This one’s for Gym I think.” she told him.
I watched as Vincent reluctantly returned to his room and yet again thanked my lucky stars that it wasn’t me having to pretend to be a girl. I couldn’t be more thankful when Vincent returned wearing his Gym kit: a long sleeved purple leotard bearing a small school crest in the middle of its chest and broad green stripes up the sides. His two uniforms and his PE kit seemed bad enough, but a leotard and nothing else must be horrendous to wear if you’re a boy!
Why Vincent needs two PE kits I’ve no idea. At my high school we wear the same kit for outdoor and indoor sports and it seems to work. When Mother passes him another batch of items, I can’t help but exclaim, “Three PE kits!?”
“One for outdoor games, one for gym and one for dance.” Mother replied. “Plus a swimsuit.” she added.
“A girl’s one?” I gulped.
“Of course.” Mother replied before prompting Vincent to go and try on his ‘dance’ kit. Once he was out of earshot, Mother thanked me for not teasing my brother… or ‘sister’ as she put it. “She’s got enough to put up with when Gregory is being horrible to her.” Mother added.
“You can say that again!” I thought. Fact is, both I and Gregory have teased Vincent since Mother decided he should be a girl, but as Gregory’s teasing and taunting has escalated into nastiness, I’ve eased off. If it was me having to wear girl’s clothes all the time, sleep beneath a girl’s duvet and wake up in a girl’s bedroom, answer to a girls name and act all girlie then I know I’d appreciate a bit of support. But what I can’t get my head round is why Mother continues pretending he’s a girl when it’s clearly the root cause of everything Vincent has to put up with.
I pat myself on the back for successfully containing my snorts and sniggers when Vincent descends the stairs wearing his ‘dance’ kit. His cheeks are crimson and rightly so. He wears another purple leotard, but this one has thin shoulder straps. Around his waist is a short purple skirt made from a fabric that can be seen right through. I question the point of it, but not out loud. His legs are clad in a pair of pale pink dance tights and for all intents and purposes, he’s dressed as a ballerina. The only thing he’s lacking is a tutu. Not surprisingly, Mother fusses over him the moment he lands on the kitchen floor. “I couldn’t work out this cardigan.” he said, drawing Mum’s attention to the green woolly garment that hangs limply from his hand.
“It’s a bolero.” Mother says as she helps him into it. It’s like a cardigan I suppose, but only covers his arms and upper back, those being the areas this leotard doesn’t cover. Again, I couldn’t imagine how Vincent must feel having to wear such a girlie outfit. It must be bad enough wearing that stuff in front of me and Mum, but wearing it in front of an entire class must be horrendous. Mother claims it’s OK because all the boys wear the same, but that would be of no consolation if it was me being sent to this ‘petticoating school’. After enduring a little more of Mum’s fussing and faffing than anyone could handle, Vincent is told to go and change. The way he bounds up the stairs suggests he’s keen to do so. He returns minutes later wearing one of his dresses and Mother starts faffing with his hair, tying it in bunches and fussing over how nice and pretty he looks.
In a way I was a little envious of all the attention that Vincent was getting since he became Sophie, but ultimately I was thankful that it wasn’t me that had endure one girlie outfit after another. In private he claims that he hates being a girl and having to wear dresses and skirts all the time. But in front of Mother or his friends (being Laura and Vanessa), he just acts all girlie as if he’s trying to score brownie points. He also claims that he’s not looking forward to going to his new school because he has to dress like a girl, but then contradicts himself by saying he’d rather go there than to a normal high school now he’s a ‘girl’. It’s hard to work him out these days.
My brother Gregory just calls him a sissy or a freak to his face and behind his back. He also calls Mother a variety of derogatory terms behind her back and refers to our home as ‘the house of freaks’. I know all too well that home life is a long way from normal, but Gregory seems to have forgotten just how depressed Mother was before Vincent became the daughter she’d been longing for. I’ve given up trying to pacify Gregory just as I’ve given up teasing Vincent as the former has proved to be pointless and the latter was just plain mean. I’m looking forward to the day when Gregory leaves for college because he’s turned into a person I struggle to like or look up to. I wish I was old enough to move on too though… with a sister who’s really my brother and a mother who’s constantly fussing over him/her… it’s not exactly a normal household these days. None of my friends knock anymore and whenever I invite them over they either make excuses or bluntly tell me that they way my mother fusses over my ‘sissy brother’ is far too weird.
I’d sort of got used to seeing my brother wearing nothing but girlie dresses and skirts throughout the summer holidays. Mother would have Vincent change his outfit two or three times a day and he seemingly got a new item of girlie clothing on a weekly basis. It was a bit overwhelming to witness, but at least I didn’t have to endure it like Vincent does. I’d assumed that having to go to school dressed as a girl would be far worse than being a girl at home, but Vincent claims the opposite to be true. At home he’s the only boy dressed as a girl whilst at school he’s just one of many boys who wear the girl’s uniform.
I spent the first week of the new school term being frequently quizzed about my younger brother/sister. It wasn’t easy trying to justify my mother and defend my brother but I guess it was easier than being in Vincent’s shoes, especially those with heels! Vincent seems to be happy enough at his new school, and he likes the fact that his school uniform is far less prissy than the dresses Mother makes him wear at home. I guess Malham Hall is a better place for him than Broadoak Road where he’d be the only boy wearing the girl’s uniform, assuming he’d be allowed to wear the girl’s uniform.
Gregory’s attitude towards our brother and our mother is getting worse as he prepares to leave for college. For some reason he’s due to enrol in mid September so we have to put up with his trollish presence for another week yet. Half the time when I try to defend Vincent, Gregory starts having a go at me too and claiming I’ve going soft. I don’t know why he’s become so horrible to us, but I do know that I can’t wait to see the back of him.
In a way I was a little envious of all the attention that Vincent was getting since he became Sonia, but ultimately I was thankful that it wasn’t me that had endure one girlie outfit after another. In private he claims that he hates being a girl and having to wear dresses and skirts all the time. But in front of Mother or his friends (being Laura and Vanessa), he just acts all girlie as if he’s trying to score brownie points. He also claims that he’s not looking forward to going to his new school because he has to dress like a girl, but then contradicts himself by saying he’d rather go there than to a normal high school now he’s a ‘girl’. It’s hard to work him out these days.
My brother Gregory just calls him a sissy or a freak to his face and behind his back. He also calls Mother a variety of derogatory terms behind her back and refers to our home as ‘the house of freaks’. I know all too well that home life is a long way from normal, but Gregory seems to have forgotten just how depressed Mother was before Vincent became the daughter she’d been longing for. I’ve given up trying to pacify Gregory just as I’ve given up teasing Vincent as the former has proved to be pointless and the latter was just plain mean. I’m looking forward to the day when Gregory leaves for college because he’s turned into a person I struggle to like or look up to. I wish I was old enough to move on too though… with a sister who’s really my brother and a mother who’s constantly fussing over him/her… it’s not exactly a normal household these days. None of my friends knock anymore and whenever I invite them over they either make excuses or bluntly tell me that they way my mother fusses over my ‘sissy brother’ is far too weird.
I’d sort of got used to seeing my brother wearing nothing but girlie dresses and skirts throughout the summer holidays. Mother would have Vincent change his outfit two or three times a day and he seemingly got a new item of girlie clothing on a weekly basis. It was a bit overwhelming to witness, but at least I didn’t have to endure it like Vincent does. I’d assumed that having to go to school dressed as a girl would be far worse than being a girl at home, but Vincent claims the opposite to be true. At home he’s the only boy dressed as a girl whilst at school he’s just one of many boys who wear the girl’s uniform.
I spent the first week of the new school term being frequently quizzed about my younger brother/sister. It wasn’t easy trying to justify my mother and defend my brother but I guess it was easier than being in Vincent’s shoes, especially those with heels! Vincent seems to be happy enough at his new school, and he likes the fact that his school uniform is far less prissy than the dresses Mother makes him wear at home. I guess Malham Hall is a better place for him than Broadoak Road where he’d be the only boy wearing the girl’s uniform, assuming he’d be allowed to wear the girl’s uniform.
Gregory’s attitude towards our brother and our mother is getting worse as he prepares to leave for college. For some reason he’s due to enrol in mid September so we have to put up with his trollish presence for another week yet. Half the time when I try to defend Vincent, Gregory starts having a go at me too and claiming I’ve going soft. I don’t know why he’s become so horrible to us, but I do know that I can’t wait to see the back of him.
When Gregory starts packing, he seems intent on never returning as he packs almost all of his possessions. “You won’t need this much stuff Gregory.” Mother tells him as she unpacks as quickly as he packs. “There won’t be that much storage space in the student halls.” she tells him. Gregory is adamant that he needs to take ‘all’ of his CDs and DVDs, and in spite of Mother’s insistence that he probably won’t have that much free time to get any use from them, he packs them none the less.
“Have fun in the house of freaks!” are the parting words my elder brother Gregory whispers to me as his taxi arrives.
“Yeah thanks Gregory… see you at Christmas.” I reply. He could have been a bit less sneery as he left, I thought, but I guess he’s looking forward to making new friends, going to concerts and living in student halls, free from parental guidance whilst I’m expecting little more than Sonia this and Sonia that whilst barely being noticed.
The moment Gregory left, the vibe in the house changed completely. All the bad feeling came from Gregory’s direction and with his menacing presence gone, things felt a lot more homely. Of course it’s still strange having a sister who’s really a brother, but I’m getting used to that. Vincent’s predicament is well known amongst my friends and acquaintances, but they seem to be more interested in the rumours rather than the facts. The rumours are that my brother is either gay or a transsexual, Neither are true but both sound more likely than the actual truth.
One evening, I’m sat on my bed reading a comic when Vincent enters. He’s wearing a pale pink girl’s T-shirt with a line drawing of Tinker Bell on the front, along with a short ditsy ra-ra skirt and woolly tights with white & pink stripes. In his hands is a large pile of laundry which he starts putting away. “You don’t have to put that away Pete.” I say. “I can do it.”
“Mother told me to put it away.” he replied.
It didn’t seem fair that he has to dress and act all girlie, plus help Mother with all the chores. His hair is tied in a single high ponytail that bounces off his skull as he put my clothes away for me. He asks me about school and enquires about his old friends. I fill him in on a few details before returning the question. “What’s it like at Malham Hall?”
“OK.” he replied. “I’ve made a few friends and the teachers are OK.” he told me.
“Is it just like a normal school… apart from the uniform?” I asked as I sat up on my bed.
“Not really.” he solemnly replied. “Most of the lessons are the same I suppose, but during the breaks we’re not aloud to sit around chatting… well, not the boys anyway.” he explained.
I decide I should at least help him put my laundry away and ask “What do you do then?” as I grab a bundle of socks. Vincent didn’t sound very enthusiastic when he replied, and I could barely believe my ears. “That sounds awful!” I said.
“It’s not that bad.” he optimistically said, but I sensed he was just putting a brave face on. The thought of having to dress like a girl at school sounds bad enough, but having to play games such as hop scotch, skipping and clapping games during their break times seems beyond humiliating.
“Cant you play footie or owt instead?” I asked, sensing the answer would be no.
Vincent shook his head and I noticed how his ponytail continued to swing for a brief moment afterwards. “Ball games are banned in the playground.” he replied before saying that he was never any good at football anyway. “Hop scotch is quite good though.” he added.
“I’d feel like a right girl if I had to play hop scotch.” I said as I bundled a pile of my T-shirts into their drawer.
“I think that’s the idea.” Vincent glumly replied before telling me to put my T-shirts away properly. “There’s no point me ironing them if you’re just going to stuff them in your drawer.”
“Sorry.” I said as I put them away ‘properly’. I thanked him when we’d finished putting away my laundry and Vincent returned the compliment before leaving me alone.
It’s been a very strange summer, what with his Mother fussing over his sister all the time and saying “Doesn’t Sonia look pretty today?”.”Doesn’t Sonia’s hair look nice in ringlets?”, “Doesn’t Sonia’s dress look nice?” “Sonia this” and “Sonia that” became a daily… no, an hourly occurrence. It wouldn’t be so weird if Sonia really was a girl, but she’s not… she’s his younger brother Vincent and their mother decided she wanted… no, needed a daughter… and Vincent was the obvious choice since Andrew’s was considered too ugly and Gregory is too old.
Today is a big day for Vincent because today is the day that Mother is taking him to get his new school uniform. We all knew he’d be dressing like a girl at his new school, but I think even Vincent was overwhelmed by just how big a fuss our mother made about it. “Do I have to?” he moaned when Mother told him to go and try the summer uniform on.
“Of course Sonia dear!” Mother replied in her annoying overly joyous voice she’d adopted. “Girls love trying on new outfits.” she reminded him.
“Oh… OK.” Vincent coyly replied.
“Leave him Gregory.” I suggest as our older brother Gregory sneers under his breath.
“Her!” Mother reminds me. I mumble an apology and glance at Vincent. “Run along Sonia… I can’t wait to see how it looks.” Mother excitedly tells him. My heart kind of goes out to my little brother at times like this. I know he doesn’t like being a girl as whilst he appears to be accepting and willing, there’s a clear reluctance in his voice and on his face. I can’t imagine what it must be like for him, having to pretend to be a girl day in day out. A few weeks ago he was a normal boy just like me until one Saturday when Mother turned him into her daughter, and that daughter could have easily been me!
Looking back, it seems almost laughable that a simple card game would hold such high stakes. I’ll point out that this was no tense game of poker, but a frantic game of Happy Families that would decide which of us three brothers would become ‘Sonia’. I still recall the fury I felt when Vincent slammed his cards down on the table, leaving the competition between Gregory and myself. But this soon turned to elation when Mother pointed out that the winner will become her new daughter and our new sister. All three of us assumed that the loser would have to become a girl, which meant we were all playing to win… and the fact that I was so close to winning still sends shivers down my spine.
My heart went out to Vincent as he sloped off to his room clutching his gingham school dress whilst Gregory called him names. But somewhere deep in my gut I hate my little brother every time he says ‘OK mummy’ whenever Mother wants him to try on a new dress or tie ribbons in his hair or embark on some other girlie activity. I know I’d be at least putting up a proper fight!
“Andrew can be nice to Sonia so why you can’t Gregory I’ll never know!” Mother said to my big brother. Mother and Gregory often have this conversation, but I don’t get involved. On the one hand I agree with Gregory that ‘Sonia’ isn’t a girl and should be dressing or acting like one, but on the other hand I agree with Mother… Vincent’s simply trying his best in difficult circumstances and we should be more supportive instead of being nasty. This puts me on the fence so I’ve stopped teasing Vincent for acting and dressing all girlie, but I do try to avoid calling him ‘Sonia’ or referring to him as ‘her’ or ‘she’… in fact I tend to avoid talking to him altogether since he became Sonia.
Mother shouted up the stairs. “Come on Sonia… we’re all waiting to see how it looks!”
“I’m not!” Gregory sneered as he shot up from his chair and stormed out of the house.
Mother shook her head as he left then looked at me. I smiled through pursed lips, but I didn’t know what I was smiling about. We both watched as Vincent shyly walked down the staircase wearing his new school uniform. It’s one of those bog standard gingham school dresses that junior school girls wear, but in purple instead of the more common blue or green. Mother fussed over how smart he looked, made him try his school cardigan on, then the blazer, and possibly worst of all, a straw boater hat! It was uncomfortable viewing so I headed for my room. “What are you doing Andrew?” Mother asked me. “Well whilst your there, can you put your uniform on too please?” she added.
“What for?” I asked.
“Because I’d like a photo of you and Sonia in your school uniforms.” Mother replied. I tried to moan my way out of it but it was no use. After taking several photos of us, Mother sent Vincent to change into his winter uniform. Mother faffs with my tie and my hair whilst he’s upstarts. Vincent returns wearing a purple & green plaid pinafore dress over a white blouse with a broad round collar. On his feet are the same Mary Jane’s, but his legs are clad in a pair of dark green woolly tights.
Once again, Mother stands us side by side and begins taking photographs. Gregory returns, sneers at both of us and makes derogatory comments about our smart new uniforms,and bangs about in our bedroom, clearly looking for something. After a few seconds he bounds back down, sneers once more in our direction and storms out of the door again, slamming it behind him. Mother advised us to take no notice of him before she started fussing over Vincent once more. “Can I get one with your hat on?” Mother asked/told him.
“That’s a different hat!” I stated as he reluctantly donned a grey hat instead of the yellowy straw one.
“It’s the winter hat.” Vincent replied, glancing up at its brim. The winter hat is grey felt with the school crest embroidered on the front and a purple band similar to the one on his summer hat. Its brim isn’t as wide and its top much more rounded than his square edged straw boater.
“It’s better than the other one.” I said as I imagined having to wear something similar.
Vincent cast me an appreciative smile before Mother started faffing with his fringe and his collar before standing back to admire us. Mother wanted pictures of him wearing his hat, without his hat, then with his blazer on, fastened and unfastened. I suggested I go and put my anorak on, but Mother dismissed my jovial suggestion and told me to stop being silly before faffing with Vincent again.
After a few snaps of myself and Vincent wearing his winter uniform, Mother tells me to get changed before I ‘ruin my new trousers’, then told ‘Sonia’ to go and try his PE kit on, which he’d clearly rather not do. Mother tells him that she needs to make sure everything fits as she sorts through the numerous cellophane packed items. “Shirt, skirt, knickers and socks.” she says as she bundles the items to together.
Vincent glances at me and rolls his eyes. I throw him a reassuring smile before we head for our bedrooms. It wasn’t too long ago that Vincent and I shared a bedroom, but since Mother turned him into Sonia, I’ve been sharing with Gregory … and Gregory ’s presence is evident in the mess I now have to put up with. I shut the drawers he’d left open before changing out of my school uniform and pull on my jeans and a t-shirt. I return to the kitchen and Mother asks if I’ve hung my shirt and trousers up properly. “Yes.” I reply before my eyes follow Mother’s towards the stairs.
“Oh very sporty.” Mother says to Vincent as he slowly descends.
“It’s too short.” Vincent gulps as he looks down at himself.
“It’s supposed to be short.” Mother replied. “Have you got your gym knickers on too?” she asks, prompting him to reveal the thick purple panties he wears beneath his pleated purple skirt.
I can still barely believe that there’s a school in which the boys have to dress like girls… and as I understand it, most of them are normal boys like me and Gregory … not pretend girls like Vincent. I can understand them dressing like girls if they’re in Vincent’s position, but when they’re not it just seems wrong.
“They’re lovely colours Sonia.” Mother says as she fusses around Vincent. As usual, Vincent just puts up with her faffing as he models his ‘outdoor’ PE kit. Alongside his pleated purple skirt, he wears thick woolly knee socks in green and a short sleeved polo shirt, also in green. The is embellished with the school crest embroidered over the left breast and wide purple stripes down each side, running from armpit to waist. Mother picks up yet another polythene wrapped item and hands it to Vincent. “This one’s for Gym I think.” she told him.
I watched as Vincent reluctantly returned to his room and yet again thanked my lucky stars that it wasn’t me having to pretend to be a girl. I couldn’t be more thankful when Vincent returned wearing his Gym kit: a long sleeved purple leotard bearing a small school crest in the middle of its chest and broad green stripes up the sides. His two uniforms and his PE kit seemed bad enough, but a leotard and nothing else must be horrendous to wear if you’re a boy!
Why Vincent needs two PE kits I’ve no idea. At my high school we wear the same kit for outdoor and indoor sports and it seems to work. When Mother passes him another batch of items, I can’t help but exclaim, “Three PE kits!?”
“One for outdoor games, one for gym and one for dance.” Mother replied. “Plus a swimsuit.” she added.
“A girl’s one?” I gulped.
“Of course.” Mother replied before prompting Vincent to go and try on his ‘dance’ kit. Once he was out of earshot, Mother thanked me for not teasing my brother… or ‘sister’ as she put it. “She’s got enough to put up with when Gregory is being horrible to her.” Mother added.
“You can say that again!” I thought. Fact is, both I and Gregory have teased Vincent since Mother decided he should be a girl, but as Gregory ’s teasing and taunting has escalated into nastiness, I’ve eased off. If it was me having to wear girl’s clothes all the time, sleep beneath a girl’s duvet and wake up in a girl’s bedroom, answer to a girls name and act all girlie then I know I’d appreciate a bit of support. But what I can’t get my head round is why Mother continues pretending he’s a girl when it’s clearly the root cause of everything Vincent has to put up with.
I pat myself on the back for successfully containing my snorts and sniggers when Vincent descends the stairs wearing his ‘dance’ kit. His cheeks are crimson and rightly so. He wears another purple leotard, but this one has thin shoulder straps. Around his waist is a short purple skirt made from a fabric that can be seen right through. I question the point of it, but not out loud. His legs are clad in a pair of pale pink dance tights and for all intents and purposes, he’s dressed as a ballerina. The only thing he’s lacking is a tutu. Not surprisingly, Mother fusses over him the moment he lands on the kitchen floor. “I couldn’t work out this cardigan.” he said, drawing Mother’s attention to the green woolly garment that hangs limply from his hand.
“It’s a bolero.” Mother says as she helps him into it. It’s like a cardigan I suppose, but only covers his arms and upper back, those being the areas this leotard doesn’t cover. Again, I couldn’t imagine how Vincent must feel having to wear such a girlie outfit. It must be bad enough wearing that stuff in front of me and Mother, but wearing it in front of an entire class must be horrendous. Mother claims it’s OK because all the boys wear the same, but that would be of no consolation if it was me being sent to this ‘petticoating school’. After enduring a little more of Mother’s fussing and faffing than anyone could handle, Vincent is told to go and change. The way he bounds up the stairs suggests he’s keen to do so. He returns minutes later wearing one of his dresses and Mother starts faffing with his hair, tying it in bunches and fussing over how nice and pretty he looks.
Conversations with Vincent are a rare thing these days, which is probably more down to me than than it is him. I returned to my comic but spent more time wondering what it would be like if it was me that had won the game of Happy Families some three months ago. I wondered if I’d even remember what it felt like to wear boy’s clothes after all that time wearing nothing but skirts or dresses. I imagined what the average school day might be like too. After the humiliating journey dressed as a girl, I guess going through the school gates would be a bit of a relief. Having to play one of a number of girlie games during the break times didn’t sound much fun either, nor did playing netball wearing that really short PE skirt. Vincent tells me that it’s OK playing netball, but I don’t believe him. Then again he did say it was OK in comparison to Dance, which is mostly basic ballet and mind numbingly boring. I guess it’d probably be a relief to don the school uniform after wearing the dance kit… or any of the PE kits for that matter. In spite of all my musings, I was thankful for the fact that I’d never know for sure what it’s like to attend Peter’s school… but it did intrigue me.
After having a bit of a clear out, Mrs Mayweather (Veronica’s mother) brings round a bag of clothes that Veronica’s outgrown and wondered if they might fit Peter. “There’s a few school blouses, a pinafore and a couple of summer dresses, they’ll probably be too big for her now but…” Mrs Mayweather says as Mother routes through the bag. “…they’ll be good for next year maybe.”
Mother thanks her for the clothes, and says she’ll send Sonia over later to say thank you too. “She’s out with Lauren.” she added. Mrs Mayweather leaves and Mother puts the carrier bag full of clothes to one side. “Sonia’s going to be over the moon!” she exclaims, casting me a broad grin.
“No he’s not.” I think whilst smiling back and saying “Yeah.”
When Vincent does return he pretends to be interested as Mother holds dress after dress against him to check them for size and style. Most look like a good fit whilst others seem to have plenty of growing room. “Some of these might fit you Andrew.” Mother said as I loitered in the background.
“I don’t wear dresses!” I retorted. “Only girls wear dresses.”
“There’s plenty of boys at Sonia’s school who wear dresses.” my mother reminded me for the umpteenth time. “Try this one Sonia.” Mother said, thrusting a frock into Peter’s hands.
I watch as he climbs the stairs, shyly clutching the rancid green dress. “Yeah but they’re all queer or summit.” I reply when he’s out of earshot.
“Something!” my mother corrects. “And no they’re not. They’re normal boys just like you.” Mother tells me as she holds one of Veronica’s cast off frocks against me.
I swipe it away in an instant. “Get that off me!” I barked.
“I was only seeing how it looks!” Mother said defensively as she held it up again, thankfully not against me this time. “It’s a pity it’s too big for Sonia… I love this style.” she says, more to herself than to me.
“She’ll grow into it.” I dryly state.
“Yes she will.” Mother replied as if in a dream. She turns towards the sound of footsteps. I turned too. Vincent appears on the stairs wearing one of Veronica’s old dresses and surprise surprise, Mother gushes over how nice he looks. After several long minutes of sickening compliments, Mother tells Vincent that she wanted me to try on the sailor dress. “I don’t know what he’s so worried about…” Mother adds as she holds it against herself, “…it’s quite boyish for a dress… no flowers, no frills.”
“It’s still a dress though.” I moaned. Vincent backs me up and says that I shouldn’t have to wear it if I don’t want to.
“Yes but, it wasn’t so long ago that you didn’t want to wear dresses either dear.” Mother said in a patronising tone.
“That was different though.” Vincent replied as he began to blush. “You don’t need another daughter.” he added.
“I know.” Mother replied as she gave Vincent a hug, “I’ve got all the daughter I need right here.” she said in a sickening tone before planting a kiss on Peter’s forehead. God it’s weird, more so without Gregory being here to balance the male/female split. “It just seems like too long to wait to see how it looks.” Mother said.
“You can see how it looks by holding it.” I stated.
“I mean to see how it looks ‘on’.” Mother replied. “It could be months, years before Sonia grows into it.” she mused as she admired the navy blue frock. To be fair, it does look a lot better than most of the frocks she makes Vincent wear… it’s just a pity it’s too big for him, especially since Mother keeps glancing at me as she gushes over it.
Gregory has been away from little over two weeks and this conversation is starting to freak me out a bit. At least Vincent backed me up… but maybe he’s just worried that I’ll claw some attention away from him if I did wear it
After we’d done the dishes, Peter and I sat and watched TV for a bit until Mum announced that it was his bath time. I took the opportunity to ask if I could go and change. “You may as well keep it on until bedtime Andrew.” Mum said as she looked me up and down. “And you did say it wasn’t so bad.” she smiled.
“But… doesn’t Sophie want her tights back?” I said. I know it’s a crap line of reasoning but it’s all I could think of.
I wasn’t surprised when Mum said “I think she can wait a few hours.” She smiled and looked me up and down from boyish head to the tip of my stockinged toe. “Anyway, that dress looks much nicer with tights that it would without.” she said. “Although knee socks might be nice too.” she added as if her mind was wondering.
I gulped and tried to visualise just how ridiculous I must look from someone else’s point of view. I did expect to feel far more ridiculous than I do, but as far as dresses are concerned this isn’t a bad one, I figured… before cursing myself and trying to chase such thoughts from my skull. “Haven’t you got any homework Andrew?” Mum asked.
“Er… a bit yeah.” I replied.
“Well why don’t you get on with that instead of staring at your knees.” she suggested.
I hadn’t even realised I’d been doing it until she said, but seeing pure white knees sticking out from under a blue skirt is weird yet intriguing. Even as I tried to concentrate on my homework I continued to glance at my white woolly knees.
The next day at school was weird. It felt like everyone was looking at me oddly, as if they somehow knew that I’d worn something I shouldn’t have… but that was just me being paranoid. If anyone knew, I’m pretty sure I’d know they knew.. but that didn’t stop me spending much of the day thinking about the time I’d spent wearing a dress.
It wasn’t until midweek that I opened my wardrobe (something I do everyday) to hang my school pants up and I noticed the navy blue sailor dress hanging there. “Mum?” I said as I went to the kitchen, checking she was alone.
“Yes love?” she asked as she pottered.
“Why is that dress in my wardrobe?” I sheepishly asked.
“Because it fits you and you said you liked it.” Mum replied.
“I didn’t say I liked it.” I insisted, but backtracked after Mum gave me one of those looks. “I just said it wasn’t bad.” I reminded her. “But I don’t want it in my wardrobe.” I mournfully added.
“Well it’s been there all week. Why you’ve waited ’til now to mention it I don’t know.”
“Because I hadn’t noticed it ’til now.” I replied. “Can I put it somewhere else?”
“You could hang it from your door hook if you want.” Mum suggested, although I knew she was teasing me. “There isn’t room in Sophie’s wardrobe and it doesn’t fit her anyway… and my wardrobe’s jam packed full too.” she explained. “And since George left for college there’s plenty of room in yours.” she smiled. “And if you do want to wear it again you know where it is.”
“But I don’t want to wear it again!” I claimed.
“Well it’s there just in case you change your mind.” Mum replied as she resumed folding the laundry. “No one would think any less of you.”
“George would.” I moaned, sticking out my lip. “If he was still here you wouldn’t me making me wear dresses.”
“I’m not making you wear anything!” Mum replied, before reminding me that it was I who wanted to borrow a pair of tights and I who agreed that wearing the dress would be a nice surprise for Sophie. “I made it perfectly clear that you didn’t have to wear it Andrew… it was your choice.”
I slumped my head into my shoulders. “Yeah but…”
“And George isn’t here.” Mum interrupted, “When he was the pair of you were horrible to your sister, and now he’s gone it’s good that you’re finally starting to get along with Sophie.”
“I wasn’t horrible to her!” I whined.
“You weren’t very nice either… all that sniggering and whispering and giggling behind her back.” Mum retorted. “Peter’s doing the best he can in a difficult situation and the very least you can do is show him some support and solidarity.” Mum paused, pulled out a chair and sat down. I followed suit. “Now I know Peter isn’t a real girl, and I know he’d rather be a normal boy… but I need someone to call my daughter and fortunately for you, that someone is Peter.” Mum explained in a calm and considered voice. “Put yourself in his shoes.” she suggested, “Wouldn’t you be happier having a nice brother instead of one who sniggers and sneers at you?”
“I don’t snigger at her.” I claimed.
“Well… not since George left you don’t.” Mum pointed out.
At that moment the front door opened and Peter returned. “Can Laura come in?” he asked.
Laura hovered behind and said “Hello Mrs Jackson… hi Andrew.”
I muttered a hello as Mum said, “Hello Laura. Don’t you look smart in your uniform.”
“Oh er.. thanks.” Laura replied, looking down at herself and frowning. “Mum makes me keep it on ’til I’ve done all my homework.”
“Oh that’s a good idea… it’ll help you concentrate.” Mum smiled.
“I’d rather wear my own clothes after school.” Laura frowned.
“I’m sure you would dear, but I suppose school isn’t really over until your homework’s finished.” Mum told her.
“That’s what my mum says.” Laura replied.
“So what have you two been doing? Gossiping?”
“No.” Peter and Laura replied in unison.
“Sophie’s been helping me with my homework.” Laura claimed.
“Can I loan her my Black Beauty book?” Peter asked before explaining that Laura had to choose a nineteenth century book to read, then write an essay about it, but not being much of a reader she didn’t know where to start.
The two skipped up stairs. Mum and I watched them go before turning to each other. Mum smiled at me and I smiled back… although I wasn’t sure what we were smiling about. “Why don’t you help me make supper seeing as Sophie’s helping Laura with her homework?”
I’d much rather sit in front of the telly as usual, but it’s not really fair that Peter has to help her every night. “OK.” I moaned. “What are we having?”
“How’s about omelette?” Mum suggested.
“Mmmm!” I replied, that being one of my favourites after burgers and pizza of course. “I’m not wearing that!” I blurted under my breath as mum removed her pinafore style apron from its hook. “Laura might see me!” I quietly yet assertively added.
“I don’t think Laura will mind Andrew.” Mum said. We both glanced toward the staircase and the sound of footsteps.
“Thanks Sophie.” Laura said, waving the book and smiling. “I’ll bring it back when I’ve read it.” she added before saying goodbye to each of us and leaving.
“Bye Laura.” Mum hollered before turning to me and offering me the pinafore once more. “Well that’s cleared up that little problem.” she grinned.
As well as the dress, mother had also brought me a vest to wear under it, which had a vague floral pattern in the knit, and stretchy lace trim around the neck and arm holes. Mother raised the navy blue sailor dress over my head and told me to put my arms up. Within seconds it surrounded me and Mother fastened the zip, which strangely ran up one side from waist to armpit. Once the dress was on, I unbuttoned my pants and pulled them off. “Very nice.” Mother grinned as she stood back and looked me up and down. It didn’t feel as horrible as I’d expected, but it didn’t exactly feel nice either. I wondered what Gregory would say if he could see me now and guessed that he’d be less than gracious. I sat myself down and, having witnessed my mother constantly remind Vincent to smooth his skirt as he sat, I smoothed my skirt as I sat. “Stay in here.” Mother grinned. “This is going to be such a lovely surprise for Sonia.”
I sat waiting for five or ten minutes before Mother returned. Reluctantly I went to the kitchen expecting Vincent to laugh at me, but her wasn’t even there. Mother pulled out a chair and beckoned me to sit. “I sent her to put a nice dress on too, but she’s no idea why!” Mother told me as I sat. A few minutes later, Vincent descended the stairs wearing one of his prissy party dresses and glanced at me. “I don’t see why I have to wear this just for supper!” he said. “It’ll be bath time soon.” he added.
Any second now he’ll see me and react, but instead he barely looked at me. He grabbed his prissy white pinafore apron and asked Mother (or ‘Mummy’ as she insisted he call her) to fasten the buttons. Mother cast me a knowing smile as she buttoned Vincent into his pinafore apron, I just sat there petrified. The tension increased by the second. “You sit down Sonia, Mummy will serve.” Mother said. Vincent sat down opposite me and moved hisr plate and cutlery so it was perfectly aligned. He watched our mother for a few seconds, then looked at me. I felt myself going beyond red as I anticipated his reaction. Then just as I thought he simply hadn’t noticed, he said. “Andrew, are you wearing a dress?”
His expression was one of shock and disbelief rather than a big grin or worse… bellowing laughter.
“He is.” Mother chirped. “Stand up Andrew and show Sonia your dress.” Mother said.
“Oh Mu-um do I have to.” I moaned. I felt much safer hiding most of me beneath the dining table.
“Well she can’t see through the table can she?” Mother said.
I gulped and reluctantly stood up before stepping to one side. I looked at Vincent then down at myself, nervously grabbing my skirt as I did so. “That’s looks OK on you.” Vincent said. “I’d rather wear dresses like that than dresses like this.” he added, sneering at his own party dress.
“I thought you liked that dress Sonia.” Mother said defensively.
Vincent backtracked a little and said he thought it was very pretty, “But it’s too pretty.” he added. “I prefer it with my piny than without it.”
“I think it looks lovely with or without your piny.” Mother said. “You both look lovely.” she added in my direction, before putting a pork chop on each plate. I sat myself down and tried my best to pretend that this is normal, “If I was Vincent it’d probably feel normal.” I thought as Mother poured my gravy for me.
“Now be careful not to get any gravy on your dress Andrew.” Mother said as we ate. “Really you should be wearing an apron like Sonia.” she added.
I looked at Vincent and the white pinafore apron Mother insisted he wore whilst easting, and was glad I wasn’t wearing an apron too. Although there’s no such thing as a boyish dress, I could see what Mother meant when she described the sailor dress as boyish as it lacked lace & bows as well as girlie colours & floral prints. It was just a plain blue frock with white trim and a big square collar. Even while wearing a dress, I still feel like I’m getting off lightly compared to Vincent.
“Why don’t you help Sonia with the dishes?” Mother suggested once we’d finished eating. I didn’t have the heart to decline and somehow knew that she wouldn’t take no for an answer. Vincent told me what to do and to be honest I felt more like a hindrance than anything. He had a routine and I was in the way, but he said he appreciated having me helping. “Why did Mother make you wear a dress?” he asked.
“Dunno really… she said it’d be a nice surprise for you.” I replied.
“Did you get in trouble for something?”
“No.” I stated. “Why would you think that?”
“Because a lot of the boys at school ended up being petticoated after getting into trouble.” he told me. “Mostly it’s a punishment.”
“I don’t think I’m in trouble.” I replied as I looked down at myself. “It’d be a pretty bad punishment though.”
“You look OK.” Vincent told me. “At least she didn’t put you in something like this.” he said, drawing my attention to the prissy party frock beneath his piny and his thin white tights covered in little love hearts.
“Yeah… that’s far too girlie.” I replied.
“Try telling Mother that.” Vincent said with a frown. “According to her, nothing’s too girlie!”
