(In Shakespeare’s time, females were not permitted on stage and men played their parts. The practice is renewed in a summer camp where a boy finds out about himself and love.)

Chapter 1 — Just One of the Girls

The summer camp catalogue identified the course as “Number 40: Dramatizing Shakespeare,” and described it as a seminar for advanced English students. The entire seminar would be devoted to staging a Shakespearean play, from beginning casting and scripting to a final performance at the end of the six-week camp period, the catalogue said.

Kenny Hansson ran his long slender fingers down the page of the catalogue, resting on the listing and realized the course was tailor-made for him as a great way to spend his time at the St. Albert’s College Summer Theater Camp. “I can’t imagine there’s much homework in this course,” he told his roommate Mark Hamilton.

“Yeah, you don’t want a course with lots of work during the camp,” Mark agreed. He was a husky lad who became Kenny’s roommate by the luck of the draw; they had nothing in common, since Kenny had rather refined tastes running from ballet to clothes designing while Mark fashioned himself as a “macho” hero performing Chuck Norris type roles.

St. Albert’s once was an all-girls academy but became co-educational in the 1960s. Girls still outnumbered boys by a 2 to 1 margin on the campus, and that was true of the summer camp as well. But the camp had gained a significantly high reputation in theater circles, having a number of successful actors and stage managers running through its summer camp program for high school students. Mark prided himself on his physical strength, quite in contrast to Kenny, whose slender body almost could be described as dainty.

Yet, the two students seemed to mesh. “It must be a case of opposites attracting each other,” Kenny said one night after the two had been together for a week. They rarely did anything together, but seemed congenial whenever they were together in the room.

“I bench-pressed 350 pounds today,” Mark announced one day in late June.

“350 pounds, my god. I don’t think I could do 50,” Kenny said laughing.

“So what, Kenny. You’re going to be an English teacher or an actor. You don’t need to have muscles.”

Since Kenny hated sports and most physical activity, he took Mark’s comment without comment. His roommate was correct in his observation.

The campus was located atop the bluffs overlooking the cool, blue waters of Lake Michigan in the community of Havenwood, and its greatest strength was in the beauty of its campus with its tree-lined walks, broad green lawns and colonial style buildings of red brick and white trim. Much of the campus was located along the shores of a river that led into the lake; for about a mile the bluffs along the lake had eroded to leave an area of sandy dunes that had been turned into a popular swimming area within a pocket county park. Scholastically, it had gained renown in English Education and Business Management, while its drama program was beginning to blossom, due to the school’s placement about halfway between Chicago and Milwaukee — both cities loaded with professional and amateur theater groups.

Sessions for “Dramatizing Shakespeare” began on Monday a day after the campers arrived. It was mid-June, and the grounds were a lush green, still in their fresh emergence from spring. Kenny found sights and scents of the flowers that decorated the grounds exhilarating as he walked into Hodgson Hall, a century old building that housed the English and Drama Departments.

Kenny was a little early and was the third student to enter the seminar room. He nodded to Sally Winston, a wisp of a girl whom he had known from camp in a previous summer at St. Albert’s, and to Mary Lindstrom, who came to the college as a junior and who Kenny barely knew. Within three minutes, all 12 chairs in the seminar room were filled, and Kenny noted that there were only three other boys, including his roommate Mark. There was a buzz as the students chatted among themselves as they awaited the teacher.

Kenny sat next to Sally, one of the few girls he had befriended during his early time at St. Albert’s. They shared some gossip about several of the other girls that the two of them had been hanging around with, giggling a bit. Kenny hadn’t dated any of the girls, but found himself often in their company during the camp, joining them for coffee or tea occasionally at the Full Cup — a coffee house that catered to students. At other times, he often found himself among the same group of girls, usually as the only male in the group, but he seemed to fit in perfectly.

“Where are you going to college?” Sally asked. Like Kenny, she too had graduated high school that year, and both were approaching their 18th Birthday.

“Me?” he said. “Guess I’ll just go to a area tech school for my first two years, maybe transfer to college after that.”

“Oh, that should work, I guess,” she said, unenthusiastically.

“My grades were at the top, actually, but I have to work, too,” he said. “Mom’s pretty stretched now on money.”

“That’s right, Kenny,” she said, apologetically. “I forgot your mom’s a widow.”

“And she’s got to care for Sonny, my little brother, too,” he said.

“Where you going?”

“It looks like Minnesota,” she said.

“Cool.”

“Wish you could join me,” she said, her smile an openly flirtatious one.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Professor Stanton McIver, who whisked into the room, in a dramatic fashion, his long scarf flowing in the breeze that followed his light footsteps. The professor was a hit at the camp, having been a Broadway actor, where as a young man he starred in “Tea and Sympathy.”

“Hello, my thespians,” he thundered in his affected voice.

“This is going to be an exciting camp, I can tell,” he began. “But only if you all do your part. Now let’s introduce ourselves.”

Kenny watched closely as each student rose from his or her seat to tell their name, any credits they had in the theater. He listened particularly closely as one boy introduced him, a slender boy with a smooth, almost girlish face. The boy’s long brown hair was curled, as if he’d had a permanent, and he wore a shirt with vertical ruffles. Kenny had been fascinated whenever he’d seen this boy on campus, the boy’s mannerisms seeming very feminine, and wondered who the boy was.

Even as he arose, his movements took on a dainty quality and he flicked strands of his hair from his face with a light flick of his hand.

“I’m James Bailey, and this is my first year here,” he began, his voice sounding in a high register. “I’ve acted in both high school and community theater in the Pittsburgh area, and I’ve done some backstage work, too, particularly in costuming.”

Kenny watched as the boy sat down, crossing his legs, just as he’d notice the girls do. As if on cue, Kenny flicked his long brown hair from his face, using almost the same dainty movement as the other boy. Kenny realized, too, that his own legs were crossed in the same fashion. As Kenny watched the other boy, a feeling of embarrassment flooded his mind, as he wondered: Did he, too, look as openly girlish as this lovely boy from Pittsburgh?

*****
He awakened from a deep sleep to the muffled grunts of his roommate doing his morning pushups, hearing the count moving . . . “73, 74, 75” in a steady rhythm, continuing on.

“Oh hi, Mark,” Kenny said in a sleep-thickened voice. “What time is it?”

“79, 80 . . . ah . . . er . . . about 6:15 . . . 82, 83 . . . I tried not to wake you . . . 86, 87 . . . sorry, mate.”

“That’s OK, I gotta get up anyway,” Kenny said, laying his head back down for a last minute of rest before getting up.

When Kenny’s eyes cleared of his sleep, he watched his friend who was shirtless continuing his routine to hit “100,” intrigued by the rippling muscles of the boy’s back, the burgeoning biceps. He saw the tendons of his glistening back — moist with perspiration — move almost in an easy cadence, a body so firm and sweet to watch. Kenny suddenly felt a longing to run a hand along Mark’s firm, hard back and it was soon followed by a strange sensation: he wanted to be held by the strong other boy, to be hugged and protected.

His thoughts began racing, and just as quickly as this desire to be in the other boy’s arms came, it was replaced by a sobering thought: I am not interested in a boy for reasons of sex, which were abhorrent to his whole upbringing.

Mark had won the attention of many of the girls in the summer school. Moving into a conversation of a half dozen girls at the Full Cup, the campus coffee shop, he heard the new girl in the class, Mary Lindstrom, a solidly built tall girl with flowing blonde hair, exclaim: “Have you seen that Mark Hamilton? What a hunk!”

“He’s the only real man in this class this summer,” said one of the other girls.

“Why is it so many guys in this program are fags?” said another. Kenny recognized her as Carla Benson, a talkative girl who seemed to be ready to offer opinions on just about anything. She was a tall girl with a milky complexion and short-cropped blonde hair, reminding Kenny a bit of Meg Ryan, the actress.

“I don’t think they’re gay, they’re just not real men,” Mary responded. As she finished the statement, she noticed Kenny had appeared at their table and obviously had heard much of the conversation. She grew red in the face.

“Oh hi, Kenny, sit down,” she said, adding quickly, “We were just talking about whether it’ll be warm enough for us to swim at the beach Saturday.”

Kenny, who had also blushed in overhearing the girls’ talking, found an empty chair, putting his cup of scented tea down in front of him. Hoping not to offend the girls, he said coolly, “No I don’t think so, Mary. Lake Michigan doesn’t get warm enough to swim in until mid-July at least.”

“Would you join us girls if we went to the beach Saturday, Kenny?” said Carla, who had made the “fag” comment.

“Maybe,” he said.

“Well we can at least sunbathe on the beach,” Carla offered. “Let’s plan on it, girls. And Kenny you’re welcome, too. It’s not too far to walk.”

As he watched Mark complete his pushups, followed by some mean stretches, Kenny reflected to that coffee shop conversation: Why are the boys in theater apparently gay, “fags,” as Carla said? Aren’t they real men?

He continued to be awed by the flowing muscles of Mark’s back and his thick firm legs, wondering about his own slender, soft, smooth body, so totally void of such outward appearances of strength and muscle. He had always been inept in sports and in gym classes in his high school, just barely getting by; yet, he had been told many times by his sister and mother that he was a “handsome boy” that some girl some day would find appealing. Such a girl and time had yet to come; his times with girls seemed to be merely as “friends,” with only two highly unsatisfactory “dates” through his years in high school. Why couldn’t he have been as strong and masculine as Mark and so many other boys in school? Oh, how he hated disrobing and changing clothes for gym class, showering in the nude and exposing his puny frame to these other stronger boys. No wonder he was not good “date” material.

“OK if I shower first?” Mark asked. “We can go to breakfast at 7. OK?”

“Sure, Mark,” he said, smiling at his roommate. Kenny truly liked this muscular boy who was so unlike him. He feared his attraction to Mark was more than mere admiration for the boy’s remarkable body; he felt a desire to touch the boy and feel the motion of his tendons beneath his smooth skin. How would he feel being engulfed in the arms of the strong boy and to feel his own soft sweet body being caressed by the other’s large firm hands? He had never felt this way about another boy.

*****
Saturday class sessions ended at 11 a.m., giving the camp-goers a free afternoon. With nothing better to do for the day, Kenny agreed to go with the girls to the beach. Mark would be gone for the rest of the day, having been collected by his father for a drive to Milwaukee to attend a Milwaukee Brewers baseball game.

It was an unusually warm day for late June in Wisconsin. Missing were the usual cool breezes from the lake that kept St. Albert’s cool in the summer and a bit warmer than inland areas in the winter. Instead a gentle breeze came from the west, growing hot while moving across the warm fields of grain, much of the harvest going to feed the herds of cows that dotted the countryside. The sun was blistering. Kenny wore a pair of swimming trunks which reached nearly to his knees and a long sleeve shirt.

“Why the long sleeves, Kenny?” inquired Carla as Kenny joined the four girls.

“Need to protect against the sun,” he said. It was only a partial truth, since the main reason was he hoped not to take off his shirt to expose his sorry-looking body. And the long-sleeved shirt just gave him more comfort from the watchful eyes of the girls.

As the reached the beach, they could see it was already filling up, with a mixture of families with children, teenagers and a few couples of young adults. They laid down three blankets, lying down in a row, the four girls and Kenny, taking up the end spot, next to Carla.

“Can you help me put this suntan lotion on, Kenny?” Carla asked, just before settling down on the blanket.

The boy nodded and Carla give him the bottle of lotion, took off the pink terrycloth beach jacket she was wearing, and plopped face down on the blanket exposing her already tanned back. Kenny squirted a generous supply of lotion into one of his palms and turned to apply it on the girl before him. He was astonished by how firm and hard her back was, feeling the strength of her back as he massaged the lotion onto her skin, rubbing it around her shoulders and down her arms, also muscular.

“Do my legs, too, would you Kenny?” Carla said.

He found her thighs also sinuous as well as her calf; her fair skin was already well-tanned, and she finally glistened with the applied lotion in the bright sun.

“Thanks, honey,” Carla said when he finished, turning over and sitting up. “Now let me do you, Kenny. Take off that shirt. I can tell you must be a white as an Eskimo in winter.”

“Aww, you don’t have to,” Kenny protested.

“Come on you need some sun, doesn’t he girls?” she said, now addressing the others.

They all cheered in with an agreement and before the boy could respond Carla reached over, grabbed the bottom of the shirt and lifted it up, forcing the boy to raise his hands so that she could remove the shirt. Kenny grew red in embarrassment, so ashamed to be baring his puny body to the girls and a whole beach full of spectators.

Kenny quickly folded his arms over his chest, as if he was a girl covering her breasts; in his case, he felt he was merely covering his body from the prying eyes of others.

“Now lay down on your tummy, Kenny,” Carla ordered. And, obediently, he did as commanded.

Her hands were strong and kneaded the lotion onto his skin and he had the sensation that he was so fragile and weak under the strength of her hands. She massaged the backs of his thighs, her fingers caressing his soft flesh, so different from the sinews of her strong legs.

“Kenny has the prettiest legs,” he heard Mary Lindstrom’s voice exclaim as Carla applied the lotion.

“I wish I had his legs,” Carla said, adding in a voice aimed at Kenny, “You got legs like a girl, Kenny; they could win a beauty contest.”

The boy took the remark as a compliment. It had not been said with any malice, he thought, but with true admiration. It was not the first time he had been told he had pretty legs, or legs like a girl, but more often it had been said in derision. But, he was a boy, not a girl, and he should be more like a boy and play sports and be rough and tumble and his legs should be rippling in muscle, as his roommate’s legs were. Strangely, Kenny smiled at Carla’s comments and he began blushing. He blushed so easily. Wasn’t that evidence of his femininity?

Kenny looked over at his companions; all the girls had turned and were lying on their stomachs, soaking in the warm afternoon sun, made more brilliant by the reflection of sun rays off the sparkling blue waters of Lake Michigan. He turned over as well, letting the sub bake on his back, hoping he’d not fall asleep and end up getting badly burnt by the sun.

The girls were all quiet, just content to let the sun come down, their backs occasionally cooled by a waft of soft wind from the lake. No one talked and Kenny was about to doze off when he felt his body cool suddenly, realizing that someone was standing over him, casting a shadow across his back.

“Hey girls, you all sleeping?” said the voice.

Startled by the voice, Kenny raised his head to look, realizing the voice was that of Jimmie Bailey, the slender boy that was in the Shakespeare class.

“Oh it’s you Kenny,” Bailey said. “I just thought . . . oh, never mind.”

“Hi Jimmie, the girls invited me to join them on the beach. It’s too cold to swim, but it’s great for sun-bathing.”

“Can I join you? I saw the girls from the class here and thought I’d join them. I didn’t know you were with them.”

Kenny realized then that he, laying prone next to four girls on the beach and with his long hair and slender body that he must have looked just like another of the girls. The thought gave him a strange, almost comfortable feeling.

“Hi Jimmie,” said Carla, who was aroused by the talking and looked up. Soon the other three, too, were aroused and looked up

“Let’s scrunch up together girls, so we can make room for Jimmie,” Carla said.

The five of them, Kenny and the four girls, moved more closely together, freeing up a narrow space at the end, next to Kenny, for the newcomer.

Kenny watched Jimmie closely, his rather dainty style of walk shown as his sandaled feet gingerly stepped across the hot sand to join them on the blankets. His longish hair and slenderness, too, portrayed a lovely body, Kenny felt. The four girls and Kenny moved closer together, their bodies so close that he could sense the heat emanating from Carla’s tanned, muscled torso. Soon he was joined by Jimmie, whose legs touched his own as he settled into space.

The six youthful bodies, all face down on the blankets, produced symmetry of white flesh, legs and backs exposed to the bright June sun. One would assume there were six girls soaking up the sun at a cursory glance, judging from the contour of the bodies. Of course, two of those girlish forms were really two boys, Kenny and Jimmie.

The symmetry was broken soon as Carla turned over, and sat up, announcing to the group, “I need you all to tell me: who has the prettiest legs here. It’s not me, that much I know.”

“No you don’t,” agreed Mary Benson, the tallish Meg Ryan-looking girl. “Nor do I, my legs are too knobby.”

Kenny, recalling the earlier conversation about the supposed beauty of his own legs, continued to lay face down on the blanket, hoping the conversation would die. He looked over at Jimmie, who looked back at him, also still lying face down, and said quietly: “Ignore them, Jimmie.”

But it was impossible to ignore Carla and Mary, both talking louder and louder, and soon being joined by the other two girls.

“That’s easy,” Mary Benson said. “Jimmie’s got the prettiest legs.”

“No, it’s Kenny,” Carla insisted.

The debate continued with all four girls, sometimes talking at once, joining in, and finally taking a vote.

“It’s a tie,” Carla announced. “Two and two. Well one thing is certain these two girls, Jimmie and Kenny have the prettiest legs. None of us girls can match ‘em.”

Kenny and Jimmie continued to lay on their stomachs, looking at each other. Kenny grew red with humiliation and noticed Jimmie smiling back at him. “You like this?” he asked Jimmie in a whisper.

“Why not? What’s wrong with having pretty legs?”

“Well, we’re guys.”

Suddenly, Kenny felt a pair of hands gently touching his ankles and begin a slow, steady march up his calves and onto the soft inner part of his lower thighs. It was a strangely exciting feeling.

“What’s going on?” he said, turning over and sitting up, casting the hands of Mary aside.

The girl was taken aback, responding to Kenny defensively, “I didn’t think you’d mind, Kenny. Your legs feel so smooth and soft. I just had to touch them.”

“You can feel mine,” Jimmie said, having also turned over and sat up.

Kenny looked at the other boy. Was he out of his mind?

Mary, however, backed off, apparently realizing this display on a public beach could be a problem, since there occasionally sheriff’s deputies patrolling the area.

“That’s enough, I guess I shouldn’t have started this,” Carla said. “Let’s go put our feet in the water and see how cold it is.”

“Go ahead without me,” Jimmie said. “I think I’ll just sit here.”

“Me too,” Kenny said.

“Come on, you two sissies, afraid of a little cold water?” chided Carla.

“No, but you go,” Kenny said.

The two boys sat watching the girls proceed to the water, gently putting a toe in and quickly removing the foot, exclaiming with laughter how cold it was. Eventually they all ventured into the water to about ankle depth, and all along the lakeshore others were doing the same thing, the cold, frigid water the only respite from the burning sun. Swimming in the Great Lakes, particularly on the western shores, was always problematic since the waters didn’t even reach the high sixties in temperatures until August, except on rare occasions when winds from the East propelled warmer surface waters toward the shore.

“I think we do have prettiest legs,” Jimmie said.

“You bragging about that?”

“Why not? I love to see mine in hose and heels,” the boy said matter-of-factly.

“You what?” Kenny said.

“Don’t you ever put on your mom’s or sister’s stuff, Kenny?”

“Me? Never.”

“You should, Kenny, you’d look so cute as a girl.”

Kenny looked at his companion, realizing the boy moved so much like a girl, expressing himself with hand motions and using voice inflections that exaggerated various vowels.

“Haven’t you ever put on girl’s stuff, Kenny?” the boy asked.

“Well, no.”

“Really? Not even once.”

“Ah, once, I guess,” Kenny said. “At Halloween. My cousin had me wear a communion dress for a party.”

“Cool, how did you look?”

“Pretty good I guess. Everyone thought I really was a girl. I was only 12 then. I never did it again.”

“You should, ‘cause I think you’d make a pretty girl, even more than me, since you’re softer looking.”

“Why would I do that?”

Jimmie smiled and reach over and took Kenny’s hand, “Because I think you really want to do it.”

“No I don’t,” Kenny insisted.

“Well, I won’t argue, but I think you do.”

“Not.”

The girls were beginning to return to the blankets and the conversation ended. Kenny’s head was reeling as he wondered. Was Jimmie correct? Why wouldn’t he want to wear a dress and look pretty and be like a girl? Why not, indeed?

*****
The girls were giggling among themselves and several of them appeared to have impish grins on their faces as they approached the two boys, who quickly silenced their own conversation.

They all gathered around Kenny and Jimmie, squatting or sitting Indian-style encircling the boys.

“We think you two should join our girls’ club,” Mary announced.

“What girls’ club?” Kenny said.

“The club we just formed, calling ourselves the Bard’s Girls,” Carla added, giggling. “It’ll be a special club only for girls and with all special privileges.”

“Like what?” Jimmie asked.

“That’s a secret,” Mary said and the girls all laughed.

“Get off this,” Kenny said.

“No really, you two would easily be sweet girls, we can see that, Kenny,” Carla said.

“All we gotta do to start is give you girl’s names,” Mary said.

“Forget it,” Kenny said. “I think I’ll go back to the campus.”

“No you won’t,” Carla said, placing a firm hand on his leg, to hold him from rising.

“Come on, Carla, this is silly. We’re boys.”

“Not that I can see, Kenny. You’re both so pretty.”

“But . . .”

Jimmie reached over and grabbed Kenny’s shoulders. “Let’s have some fun, Kenny. Let’s see what they plan. Let’s stick it out.”

Kenny looked at the boy, whose eyes seemed to express a strong desire to stay.

“Ok, but I think this is nuts.”

“I can be called Jamie,” Jimmie announced, encouraging the situation to move forward.

“What shall we call the other girl?” Mary said. “Kenny can’t be a girl’s name.”

“Hmmm, what would you like, Kenny?” Carla asked him.

“You choose.”

“How about Kerry,” suggested one of the girls.

Kenny made a face at the suggestion and Carla seemed to agree, saying, “Let’s think of another . . .oh, how about Karen?”

“Yeah, Karen’s kinda cute,” said Jimmie, turning to Kenny and saying, “How do you like Karen?”

“That’s Ok, I guess,” he replied.

“Then Karen and Jamie it is,” announced Carla to the group. “We will hold an initiation for all the Bards Girls Sunday night in my room. All of us here today will take the oath of membership then.”

“What’ll we wear for the ceremony, Carla?” asked Mary.

“We’ll all have to wear dresses, as close to pink in color as we can,” Carla said, beginning to giggle.

“Will light purple do?” one of the other girls asked. “It’s all I’ve got.”

“Fine as long as it’s close to pink,” Carla ruled, acting like a dictator. No one disagreed.

“But we won’t have to wear dresses, Carla, since we don’t have any,” Kenny said.

“Yes you will, and Mary and I will make sure you two are properly attired.”

“No way,” Kenny protested.

“You have to, Karen. Otherwise you can’t be a Bards Girl and we’ll exclude you from our privileges.”

“Come on Karen,” Jimmie said. “This is all in fun. Let’s see how pretty we can be.”

“What’s with you, Jimmie?” Kenny argued.

“Awww, let’s do it, Karen,” the other boy said, still using Kenny’s new girl’s name. “Let’s have some fun with this.”

Reluctantly, Kenny nodded his approval, and the girls soon all clapped, yelling out loud, “We’re the Bard’s Girls,” attracting the attention of others on the beach, who likely wondered about what all the fuss was. As he worried about what he was getting himself roped into doing, Kenny felt a sensation growing within that signified great anticipation over how cute and pretty he would truly be dressed for the first time in his life as a girl.