Harold is a slight and effeminate boy who finds both friends and tormenters as he begins his freshman year in college in one of the rowdiest of frat houses. Sometimes he is a lovely girl named Heidi and his beauty is stunning and convincing. Yet, he finds joy as well by being a boy named Harold. He struggles to find the best direction for his future.

The Girl in the Frat House — Part Three

By Katherine Day
(Copyright 2008 by Katherine Anne Day)

The Story So Far: Harold Cochran enters the fraternity house where his deceased father had been a football hero; Harold, however, yearns to be Heidi, and exhibits an obvious girliness to match his tender, fragile body. He repells the assaults of some of the boorish boys, using feminine defenses, but soon wins friends from among some of the other boys. His dressing as Heidi for a frat party was so convincing he was invited to join a sorority. In his role working in costumes for the university theater group, he is accepted as one of the girls, setting up a quandary: Is he to remain a boy? Or, follow his desire to be a girl?

Chapter Five

On the morning after Harold dazzled the frat boys and the visiting sorority girls when he dressed as “Heidi,” he awoke to hear the light snoring of his roommate, obviously sleeping off a beery night. The room had a staleness created out of beer and sweat and probably some errant passing of gas.

He lay there for a few moments, feeling some strange comfort in Will Hampton’s steady breathing. He knew his roomie would likely miss his Friday morning classes as he nursed a beer hangover up to noontime. Harold contemplated his immediate future, knowing that he’d soon be making some life-changing decisions.

The previous night he had, through his own perseverance and the unexpected support from the fraternity president, Willy Williamston, and his new friend, Jason, experienced the joys of being a girl. He had become Heidi in the eyes of his frat brothers and their girl friends from neighboring sororities, and he felt that being a college coed was so natural.

“I’m a girl. I’m a girl,” he repeated softly to himself. It felt so good, and it seemed so right. He continued to lay there, his left hand reaching over to caress his slender, soft upper right arm, recognizing that his body structure was truly that of a female.

As he did so, his penis grew hard, and his pressed it between his thighs as he lay on his side. The nipples of his tiny breasts hardened and he dreamed of himself dressing that day in a mini skirt and tank top, putting a pink baseball cap on his head and tucking his long light brown hair through the hole in the back, and tying it in a bob. With a pair of pink tennis shoes and white ankles socks he knew he’d certainly be Heidi again, as he was the previous night.

Willy had proposed that he move out of the double room he shared with the beer-sotted Will Hampton and move into a private room, with a lock, where he could be Heidi all he wanted. And, Willy had proposed also, that he could live the life of either Harold or Heidi as he saw fit, but that the fraternity might enjoy him as Heidi for special events, perhaps even running as Princess of Pompeii at the fraternity-sorority big event of the spring.

Oh, but could he do it? What would his mother say? How about other students who knew him as a boy? Would he not be shunted or teased or humiliated?

This being a Friday, Harold only had English and French classes in the morning; then he was scheduled to go to the Theater and work on fitting costumes for the coming play. As much as he wanted to dress as Heidi, he knew it was probably too soon to declare himself the girl he wanted to be. The frat boys seemed to enjoy his exhibitionism last night, but he knew that might not last long.

For a while, he knew he would have to continue as Harold, giving into his desires to be a girl by wearing a pair of low-riding girl jeans with panties underneath. Nonetheless, with his flowing hair, slight stature and rather effeminate mannerisms he knew at least half the people he met would take him to be female. Underneath his short sleeved male shirt, he wore a girl’s tee-shirt and he’d remove the outer shirt at the theater where just about everyone now called him “Heidi.”

It had become routine for Harold to meet Grace, the girl he had befriended in his English class, for coffee in the student union about a half hour before the 9 a.m. class. Grace also had been in the backstage crew at the Theater, and the two had become close friends.

“You look prettier every day,” Grace said as the two met at a tiny table next to a window in the union. “I’m envious, Harold. Or, should I call you Heidi, now?”

Harold smiled. “No, I’m still Harold. But, I like being Heidi, too.”

“I like you either way,” she said. “You’re always cheerful, not moody. Don’t you ever feel sad?”

Harold didn’t know how to answer that question. He knew he had been able to put on a cheerful front, hiding the fears that gnawed at him constantly and the sadness that accompanied his feelings of inadequacies.

Grace sensed his hesitancy in answering, realizing that Harold must have demons on his own, just as she always had. Recognizing her own physical features that would forever limit her from being a “beautiful girl,” she had hidden her shortcomings in oversided clothes that covered her tendency to gather weight in the tummy and hips.

Yet, Grace has lively eyes and a round freckled face that most people found very charming. Grace had never had a boyfriend, even though she was now 19 and a college freshman.

“Oh Harold, I guess we all have demons that make us sad. Sorry I asked.”

Harold smiled: “No Grace, you’re sweet to ask. And, I guess I do feel sad . . . quite often in fact. But, I like to smile and be cheerful for other people.”

“You do, Harold. Everybody seems to like you. And, you know, right now you’re the best friend I have on campus.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I feel I can talk to you, share things with you I’d never share with anyone else. And certainly, I would never talk to things with another boy, as I do with you.”

“Thanks, Grace. I feel the same.”

Grace reached over to grab his hands: “You know, I think of you as a girl friend. And, that we can be together as girls.”

Harold smiled: “I love that thought. I’d like to be your girl friend as well.”

Harold wanted to share with Grace the questions he had before him now: should he come “out” and be Heidi in the fraternity house; or should he try to remain Harold. Should he take on the role of being the “Princess” of the house, or try to become manly?

It was funny being with Grace. There friendship truly was growing as it would between two girls; there was no apparent feeling on the part of either of them of a sexual encounter as between a boy and a girl. They both it was obvious were afraid of sexual encounters, since both were inexperienced in sex. In their naiveté they had found comfort in each other.

Harold had problems concentrating that morning as the teacher was discussing the Poet Byron. One student raised the question whether Byron was homosexual and whether that influenced his poetry, a topic that the class began debating in earnest. Harold had stayed out of the discussion, which was out of character for him since he usually had his hand raised in class daily to the consternation of others.

“How about you, Harold? You certainly should have a thought about this!” It was a nastily phrased comment from Bobby, the bully who had accosted him in the first day of classes.

Harold reddened, but decided to hold his cool. He replied pointedly: “All of the rest of you seem to know so much about the topic, I figured I better stay out of it.”

As he said it, he noticed Grace giving him a smile and a “thumbs up” gesture. It gave Harold the confidence to forge ahead and give his own answer.

“You should know that Byron was born with a club foot and was raised in very poor surroundings,” he began. “He needed affection, I think, badly and being shunned because of his physical shortcomings probably made him very sensitive. I guess he was bisexual, but he did marry and fathered a daughter; he also had some notorious love affairs with other women. It seems whether he was gay or not was immaterial. He was very talented.”

The professor, whose own prissiness was obvious to all, applauded Harold’s explanation, saying: “I think Mr. Cochran has summed it up well, now let’s get on discussing Byron’s Childe Harold’s Pilgrimmage.”

Harold during that class had been day-dreaming about Kevin. Had he lost Kevin forever? He still pictured the boy’s long face with it scraggly beard and felt he wanted to feel Kevin’s lips upon his. Did he love Kevin, he wondered? Was he indeed homosexual? What did all this mean?

He wanted so bad to be with Kevin and to talk through their relationship. Why had Kevin rejected him so suddenly, and with such meanness? Was it because when Harold had dressed as Heidi he had looked so totally feminine, and maybe was attracting other boys? Was Kevin jealous? His musing ended with the question in class, but he found he would not soon lose feeling sad over the apparent loss of Kevin’s fondness for him. His thoughts in the coming days would be filled with yearning for the comfort of being with the slender older boy.

As was their custom, Grace and Harold walked out of the class together. It was Grace who spoke first: “You seemed to be day-dreaming in class, like you didn’t even hear what Prof was saying. Something wrong?”

“Oh just lots of stuff going on in my mind, I guess,” Harold answered, purposely avoiding a direct reply. He certainly didn’t want to share with Grace his sadness over Kevin’s rejection.

“I sensed there’s a bit of Lord Byron in you,” she offered hesitantly.

Harold didn’t answer, but walked straight ahead, hoping Grace would change the subject. He was shocked by her observation. It was right on the mark; how observant this plain looking girl was. He had indeed read much about Byron after learning about the poet’s life in high school literature class. Byron’s deformity as a child affected him, just as his own tiny body and feminine features had marked him as a “different” kind of boy.

“Oh, Harold, I’m sorry,” Grace said, sensing she had hit a sensitive nerve.

“Don’t be, Grace. I guess you’re probably right. I’ve read a biography about Byron and was fascinated by his life.”

“Didn’t he really become quite heroic later in his life?”

“In a way he did,” Harold replied. “Later in his life he commissioned a brig to help the Greeks fight against the Ottoman oppressors, but he died of fever before entering any battle. I think he was always trying to prove himself a man.”

Harold could sense’s Grace’s hesitancy in commenting further. He broke the moments of silence, saying, “I guess I somewhat identify with Byron. I don’t consider myself talented, like he was, but sometimes I wish I was more macho, I guess. Can you imagine me ever dreaming of being a star quarterback? But I have.”

He laughed, and she joined in.

“Yet, I feel so happy when I’m with the girls in the Theater, both you and Rachel. You’re so good to me.”

“Well Mr. Star Quarterback,” Grace replied. “We think of you as just one of the girls.”

Harold reached, grabbed her free hand, and squeezed it softly, with affection. The two parted for their next class.

*****

That afternoon, Harold went to the Theater to continue fitting costumes for the play, Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet,” scheduled to be performed in mid November.

Harold felt right at home with the backstage crew. It was easily the sweetest part of the day. There, he could show his great skill as a seamstress and costume designer. Along with Rachel, another freshman who had been selected with Harold for the crew, there were three others, two seniors and a junior who made up the costume crew. Of course, the others were girls, but after some questioning glances when he was first introduced, there seemed to be little issue among them over the fact that he was a boy.

Harold was eager to be accepted by the whole crew and cast of the group, and he was agreeable to all the tasks assigned to him, which often included cleaning up the costume room, sorting out the costumes and sweeping up cuttings and threat remains from the floor.

His easy-going nature and somewhat feminine mannerisms seemed to win acceptance by the other girls. Harold smiled to himself, knowing that they certainly would never look upon him as someone they should seek as a future boy friend. His slender, short stature made him nonthreatening, he was sure.

While working in the backstage rooms, Harold often wrapped his long hair in a scarf, wore either a tank top or tee shirt and a pair of sweatpants, cut off just below his crotch, to looking like shorts. He wore white tennis shoes and short white socks, the kind usually worn by girls. On this Friday, he was in his girl jeans and he removed his shirt to reveal the pink short sleeved tee shirt. The straps of the padded bra he had put on that morning were apparent through the thin fabric of the shirt. From all appearances, he was sure, he must have looked like a slender, flat breasted girl.

Professor Saatchi, the costume director, soon noticed Harold’s skill at measuring the actors, and adjusting the clothes to fit.

“You’re better at the sewing machine than any of the girls,” commented Daisy Ann Sweet, who was a senior. She was the lead “costume girl,” a beefy, red-faced tall girl, who had a benign expression that hid a profound intelligence. Like the others on the crew, they dressed sloppily and did little to enhance their looks.

Daisy Ann had been watching Harold take out a dress for one of the minor characters, ripping the seams, and then stitching them back so that no one could tell there had been alterations.

“My, you handle that stitching marvelously. How did you learn that?”

“Thank you,” he said. “My mother taught me.”

“We’re so happy you’ve joined us,” Daisy said, smiling.

Harold continued his work on the dress, moving swiftly and deftly. He knew the girls were watching, and he actually worked, moving his hands about with a little extra flair that might exaggerate his girlish mannerism.

“And you have the prettiest hands,” Rachel told him later, after she had watched him work.

Harold blushed, realizing that perhaps he had gone too far in exhibiting his femininity that was becoming to feel more and more natural to him. He knew, too, that to a person casually looking into the room would mistake him for being just one of the girls on the costume crew. He admitted to himself, as well, that he enjoyed the idea that he was being mistaken for a girl, and a pretty one at that.

“What’s your name, honey?” Harold was startled at the question coming from one of the male actors whom he was fitting for a costume.

Harold, who was one his knees, measuring the actor’s inner seam, looked up, saying: “Who, me?”

“Yes, you,” said the actor a dark-haired muscular lad, with several days’ growth of beard.

“Oh, why?”

“Well, you’re cute. I thought maybe you’d like to get a coffee later, after rehearsal.”

Harold blushed, not knowing what to say. He realized that the boy, seeing him with his hair wrapped in a colorful scarf and his slender arms and narrow shoulders, had mistaken him for a girl.

“Oh, I don’t date boys,” he finally said, hoping to discourage the boy.

“Well I just thought . . .” the boy said, not completing the sentence as he walked away with the fitting ended.

Later, as Rachel and he left the rehearsal, she said: “I got something funny to tell you, Harold,” she said.

“Oh?”

“Lionel, the boy you measured for one of the characters in the play, asked me what was wrong with you.”

“Why?”

“He wondered whether you were a lesbian,” Rachel said, beginning to laugh. “He said you told him you don’t date boys.”

“Of course, I don’t date boys. Why would I?”

Rachel’s giggles continued: “He was so certain you were a girl.”

Harold smiled so pleased to be taken for a girl.

“It’s funny,” Rachel said.

“What is?”

“Well, you know what snob those actors are! They treat us backstage people like peons, like slaves.”

“I know, they always seem so in love with themselves,” Harold agreed.

Rachel said: “I should be mad at you! It takes a pretty girl like you to even get one of them to acknowledge us. And, you’re not even a girl!”

At that, Harold skipped ahead down the sidewalk most girlishly.

“I hate you!” Rachel said, but she was also laughing.

They continued down to the campus main quadrangle, where they would split, Harold to go on to the Mega House and Rachel to the women’s dormitories. Plain girls like Rachel who came from working class families rarely were pledged to sororities and were subject to housing placement by the vagaries of a large college bureaucracy.

“Hey, Rachel,” Harold said. “I got an idea.”

“What?”

“I’d like you to meet Jason, one of the boys in my frat. He looks like a typical frat boy, but he’s really very sweet.”

“You trying to fix me up?”

Harold smiled. “I guess. But he’s nice.”

“Oh he wouldn’t want me. He’s got all those sorority girls.”

Harold considered her objection for a moment, realizing that Rachel’s hesitancy probably was more due to her shyness about boys and the feeling that she was not pretty.

“Look her, Rachel,” he said. “Let me design a nice outfit for you. There’s a Harvest Dance coming up, and Jason has no girl friend now. I think he’d like you.”

“Oh Harold, please no!”

“Yes, I insist. I promise I’ll make you pretty. You know I know about dresses and makeup and all this stuff. OK?”

“No Harold, please.”

“Listen, let me do this. I’ll agree to meet Jason for coffee sometime and you’ll just happen to be there, and if you two like each other, maybe he’ll ask you out. If not, nothing is lost, right?”

Rachel shook her head. “Please,” Harold pleaded.

In truth, he knew Jason was developing a romantic attachment to him in his Heidi mode and he didn’t want to nurture that. Maybe if he found an attraction to Rachel, he’d be freed of that situation.

Rachel finally nodded a tentative “OK.”

The two agreed that Harold would meet with Rachel Saturday morning at the Theater where he’d take Rachel’s measurements so that he could design a dress for his friend. Rachel didn’t seem too happy with the idea, but Harold was excited. He truly loved to design dresses and to make women pretty. And, he could envision how pretty he could make Rachel, whose lively eyes and fresh face offered all sorts of potential beauty.

*****

In two weeks, on the second Saturday of November, the campus would celebrate Homecoming Weekend. The university’s Vikings football team was struggling as usual to win games, its record being under .500 for the season. The school hadn’t had a championship season for 25 years since Harold’s father, the famous Scotty Cochran, had been all-conference and lead the team to the league championship, only to lose a heart-breaker Bowl game. Nonetheless, Scotty’s jersey number had been retired after his untimely death in the first “Desert Storm,” and his memory was revered throughout the Frat House and the entire university.

Plenty of alumni would be descending upon the school that week, and Mega House was preparing for the event, hoping to impress the alumni of the House so that they’d continue making contributions to the Frat building fund.

Harold loved his mother, but he wished she would not come for the weekend. His femininity was well-known in the frat house, and most of the brothers still talked about his performance on the recent Thursday night. Harold had wowed them all by dressing as a girl so convincingly that visiting sorority girls were inviting him to pledge their houses. He was so afraid he’d embarrass her with his sissified nature.

“I’ve got a boy friend, Harold. He’s a lovely man, and I’m sure you’ll like him,” his mother told him on a phone call on Saturday afternoon after he returned from the Theater where he measured Rachel.

“Oh mother, that’s OK,” Harold said. He knew his mother needed male companionship; yet, he couldn’t help feel jealous, and also wonder if she was dishonoring his father by dating again.

“Harold, please. Your father has been gone over 16 years now. I loved him so much, you know, but I need to get on with my life.”

“Yes mother. I know.” And Harold did know she was right, but it still hurt.

“He’s coming with me on homecoming weekend. He wants to meet you.”

“Oh mother, no. Please no. Come some other time.”

“Something wrong, darling?”

“No,” Harold protested. “I’m just not ready to meet your friend.”

His mother was firm, however. She said they would arrive late Friday afternoon and that they had made reservations at the Viking Inn. They wanted to take Harold, and any friend of his choosing, out to a nice dinner that night.

“Have you met any girls?” his mother asked.

“Not as girl friends, mother. You know how I am?”

“Don’t be so shy, Harold. You’re very handsome lad.”

Mothers never really knew their sons, Harold felt. They never saw their sons having any shortcomings; his mother knew her son was neither athletic nor handsome in a masculine sense. She had to have recognized how feminine he truly was; she had even taught him some feminine skills, such as sewing.

Harold hung up the phone with a sick feeling. She hadn’t identified her boy friend, and Harold wondered why. Nonetheless, he had to spend two weeks trying to become more masculine so that he could survive the horrid homecoming weekend, with its partying, drinking, alumni curiosities and his mother and her new boy friend. How he wished he could introduce Heidi that weekend. Wouldn’t that be something?

*****

After dinner on Friday, Harold found the fraternity president, Willy Williamston, in his room. Willy was laying on his back, but wasn’t sleeping.

“Am I bothering you, Willy?” Harold asked.

“No Harold, come on in. I’m just resting for a while. The guys wanna hit the bars tonight, but I’m not so sure I feel like it.”

“Oh. Guess you must have busy days, Willy.”

Willy smiled and motion Harold to sit at his desk chair. “What can I do for you?”

“Willy. I’m not so sure I want to change rooms, to have that single room.”

“Oh, why, Harold? I thought you’d feel more comfortable in that room. I’m not sure all the boys are going to leave you alone, particularly if you dress as Heidi.”

Harold blushed. He knew what the frat president was saying was accurate; since he had performed as a cute college girl, he must have stirred the juices of some of the brothers and some might lose control after a few beers.

“I heard some grumbling about that from some of the other boys, wondering why a pledge should get a private room,” Harold explained. “I don’t want any special treatment.”

“I can handle such comments,” Willy said. “I cleared it with the house council.”

“I suppose, but still I’ll stay with Will Hampton. He’s been nice to me.”

Willy now sat up, perching on the side of his bed, looking directly at Harold. “And what about Heidi? Are you going to dress as her anymore?”

Harold blushed, not sure what to say. He knew in his heart he’ll always be a girl, and that Heidi may indeed become more and more a part of his life.

“I better try to be more of a boy for a while, at least through homecoming weekend.”

Willy smiled, knowing that the slender person in his room was truly someday going to be a lovely woman. The frat president had looked into transgendered persons once Harold had entered the frat house, and he realized the difficult situations such persons faced. He felt, too, that a boy’s desire to be a girl was probably something the boy could not overcome. Willy was unusual among the leaders of “Greek houses” in that he was serious about his future career in public service. Contrary to his upbringing in a wealthy, conservative family, Willy had developed a liberal mind as it related to discriminatory practices, including gay and now transgender rights.

“I guess that’s best, Harold. I know your mother will be here, and the alumni are planning a special 25th year anniversary celebration for the last football championship season. And, I know they’re planning to honor your father.”

Harold had become aware of that, and the possibility that he, as the only son of the frat house’s alumni hero, would be in the spotlight.

“I guess I better be the most masculine I can be, at least for a couple more weeks,” Harold said. “Not that it’ll be easy to do.”

“No, I guess not, but why don’t you join the touch football team? Can you catch a pass?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t played football for a long time. They always said I caught like a girl.”

“Well, why don’t you and I try it out?” Willy said. “Jason and Hampton and I are going to the park tomorrow after lunch to goof around, maybe throw the football. Why not come along? We’ll see.”

Harold agreed that might be OK. The two talked for several minutes. As Harold got up to leave, Willy said: “You know Harold. You really are pretty as Heidi.”

Harold smiled back, and gave a feminine wave, as he left the room.

*****

Harold was excited about dressing Rachel up and making her attractive and lovely. Despite her rather gawky appearance, being too tall at about 5’ 10,” having sloping shoulders, a slender neck, almost nonexistent breasts and too wide hips, Rachel’s facial features were soft and feminine and her eyes always radiated with a brightness that seemed to cheer her companions. In addition, she had long flowing hair that could be easily fashioned.

As he measured her that Saturday morning at the Theater’s wardrobe area, Grace happened in on the scene. The three of them looked over dress designs, and Harold even sketched out some ideas. They argued, even in anger at times, trying to decide on the best design for Rachel.

Harold finally sketch out a layered dress that actually draped to below her knees. “She has lovely legs, I know,” he said in arguing with Grace that the dress should be shorter to show them off. “But she’s so tall, it’ll just exaggerate her height.”

“But to hide her pretty legs, Harold, that’s a shame,” Grace argued.

“One of the secrets in fashion,” he said, “is to leave something to the imagination. Rachel has perfectly lovely ankles and lower legs. Most guys will let their own lust imagine the rest.”

They all laughed at that.

Rachel kissed Harold with a light, gentle kiss that girls often share. “I think Heidi knows her business,” she said, using his girl’s name.

The dress also draped from faux broadened shoulders with a V-shaped bodice that nearly was open to Rachel’s navel. She would wear no bra, and Harold thought it would make Rachel look terribly provocative, if not downright sexy. There would be a cloth belt positioned at a high waist level, so as to not accentuate her hips.

Rachel blushed when she saw the design. “For me? I’m not fit to wear something that sexy or pretty. I’ve never worn anything like that.”

“Rachel,” said Grace, “Heidi here has brought out the true woman in you. She’s such a talent.”

Harold, now performing the role as Heidi, smiled. He loved the idea of making a person feel beautiful and proud.

“Now, Heidi,” Rachel said. “You must design something nice for Grace.”

The three joined in a group hug, and Harold felt so good to be accepted as Heidi with the two girls.

When they finished, he realized that he had to hurry back if he was to join Willy, Jason and his roommate, Will Hampton, for touch football in the park. He suddenly had a brainstorm.

“Why don’t both of you come to University Park about 1:30 today? We’re having a touch football game and I bet you’d have fun.”

“You play football?” Rachel asked unbelievingly.

“Not really, but they asked me to play, and I think they’d enjoy having you two join us. I play like a girl, anyway.”

They giggled. “Well, maybe we girls can compete against the boys,” Rachel said. “I’ve always been kind of a tomboy.”

“And I belong on the girls team, for sure,” Harold said, doing a little prance, drawing a laugh from Rachel.

It was agreed. The girls would show up at the park that afternoon to join Harold, Willy, Jason and Will Hampton in some touch football.

As he walked back to the fraternity house, Harold realized that this would be an ideal way for Rachel to meet Jason; he wondered how he and Grace would fit in, though.

*****
Harold had studiously avoided sports throughout his childhood, always finding excuses to stay away from shaming himself at baseball or at facing certain physical humiliation at football. His behavior, he expected, would have upset his athletic father had he survived the first Gulf War.

“Mother,” he asked several times I his teen years. “Do you feel dad would be ashamed of me? He was such a star athlete and I hate that so much.”

Her answer was always the same: “You’re father was a marvelous man, honey, and he would have wanted you to be happy. I’m sure he’d be proud of you. You’re so talented and good in school.”

“But, mom, I’ll never be like dad.”

“No one could be. He was one of a kind.”

With that, his mother would hug him, his slender, almost dainty body surrendering to her gentle caresses. She always then kissed him lightly on the forehead and ran her fingers through his long hair. These moments of tenderness were so special to him; he enjoyed his mother’s fresh, soapy smell. The protective cover of her arms was so sweet.

Now, she was bringing a man, possibly a lover and perhaps even a future husband and stepfather, to homecoming weekend. All the years since his father’s death in Iraq his mother had stayed away from dating and any male relationships; it had been only his mom and himself. Now, they were separated as he began at the university and she had taken on a male friend.

For the next few weeks he vowed to make himself more masculine, a task he felt was hopeless. How could he develop muscles, transforming his skinny, soft toned arms from their pathetic nature? How could he change his effeminate mannerisms that had seemed to grow so naturally?

The group gathered at the lakeside park, a vast green space dotted by picnic areas, groves of oaks and maples and makeshift softball diamonds and soccer fields.

Willy the frat president dashed their hopes of pitting the boys against the girls; he felt that Harold should be on his team so that he could impart some rudimentary skills about football into his pathetic trainee.

The teams had Willy, Rachel, and Harold on one side; on the other side was Jason, Grace and Will Hampton. To be sure, Harold was the most pathetic of the crew, having problems catching even the gentlest ball thrown at him. He always fought the ball, and it usually bounced off his hands.

To make matters worse, he had tied his long hair back in a ribbon and he wore a pair of old Capri pants with girls tennis shoes, the only pair he had. He certainly looked like a girl as they played on the green.

After several fruitless tries, Harold finally got the hang of gathering the ball in as it approached him; his efforts at throwing a decent pass, however, always seemed to end in failure. It wobbled off his small hands when he tried.

It turned out that both Rachel and Grace were quite athletic, and both tried to instruct the hapless Harold on throwing a pass. Nobody said it, but he felt they all must be thinking ”he throws like a girl.” He had heard that so often as a kid, but his friends here were too kind to say it out loud.

The game was played with lots of laughs, some awkward tumbles and much good-natured chiding of each other. Harold soon was breathing so heavily that he wondered whether he could continue, but the girls were still fresh, and he felt shamed to stop.

It turned out that Jason and Rachel were often covering each other, and it appeared that Rachel often got the upperhand over the chubby Jason; she easily outran him, but he had native athletic skills and often upended her. She would get up and get mad, hitting him with her fists in his beefy arm.

They giggled a lot together, several times ending up with Jason hugging the girl to end her punching. They were almost the same size.

Harold surprised everyone by taking a pass from Rachel and dodging both Will Hampton and Grace in scoring a touchdown. It ended the game and Willy ran down the field, picking Harold up, carrying him high on his shoulders.

“Heidi, Heidi, Heidi,” they all yelled, using his girl’s name.

Soon they were all sitting on the ground, breathing heavily, laughing and taking water from the bottles they brought along.

Willy sat down next to Harold, commenting, “See that wasn’t so bad. You did ok.”

“I guess,” he replied, feeling Willy’s hand gently pat his back.

Rachel and Jason were engaged in an earnest discussion and Grace came over to join Willy and Harold, while the other two boys said their goodbyes.

When it came time to leave, Harold noticed Jason and Rachel took off together, headed to what he believed may have been Rachel’s dorm. Willy said he had to go to the Student Bookstore for some notepaper, leaving Grace and Harold together.

“Did you have fun, Harold?” the girl asked.

“I did. Really, I did. I never played much football.”

“I could tell,” she said, laughing. “But you got the hang of it. You’re cute.”

“What?”

“Oh what did I say?” she caught herself.

Harold blushed.

“You’re truly unique Harold. I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“I guess that’s a compliment,” he said warily.

“Oh my yes, you’re not like the other boys I’ve met. You’re so sensitive and sweet.”

Harold blushed. “Are you hungry?” he asked.

She was, and the two walked to the Student Union for ice cream. They talked about about their hometowns and the theatrical production they were both working on, the University Player’s performance of “Romeo and Juliet.”

“Heidi … oh darn, I meant Harold, I love the dress you made for Juliet in the balcony scene,” Grace said. “You made her look so feminine and dainty.”

He smiled at her use of the feminine name and was so pleased to hear her praise his designing skills.

“Oh, you can call me Heidi anytime,” he said.

“Not now, because today you’re Harold,” she said. “Say you were pretty good out there; you faked me and Will out pretty good on the touchdown.”

“But Jason said I still looked like a girl when I ran,” he said.

She took his hand in hers; Grace was easily as tall as Harold and with a large-boned athletic body. She had brown, short, straight hair that she wore in bangs. She had a square-jawed, smooth and freckled complexion with blue eyes; she did little to enhance her femininity and Harold felt she could easily be made up to be a striking young woman.

His hands felt dwarfed in her larger, beefy hands, but her hold was gentle.

“Harold, please don’t talk like that,” she said, pressing his hand a bit harder. “You’re a very handsome boy, you know.”

Harold just nodded, not sure if Grace really meant it. She had shown nothing but kindness to him since they first met; Harold felt so good to know a person like her.

“Grace, I’d like to ask you something,” he said.

“Well, ask.”

“I feel embarrassed about it though,” he said.

“It’s just between you and I. Ask, silly.”

He smiled and began.

“My mother is coming for homecoming weekend,” he started.

“So?”

“Well, ah. Anyway, she wants to take me and a friend out to a nice dinner, and I . . .”

He stopped short, realizing he was going to say he had no one else to ask. That would be rude to Grace.

“Yes, what?”

“Anyway, would you like to be my friend that night?”

“I’m your friend now, aren’t I?” She said, smiling.

“Well, yes. Then you’ll come with me that night?”

“Oh you silly boy. Of course,” she leaned over to kiss him.

“It might be a difficult night,” he said. “My mother is bringing a boy friend. I’ve never met him, and as far as I know it’s the first real man she’s had since my dad died.”

Grace patted his hand. “We’ll make a special night for them, Harold.”

“Of course, you’ll have to not say anything about Heidi,” he added.

“I know. We’ll bury Heidi for that weekend, anyway.”

Harold knew he would have to figure out how to subdue his seemingly natural tendencies to act feminine for that weekend; he had become more and more effeminate since he arrived on campus, and this would be the first time his mother saw him since she dropped him off in the frat house in September.

Chapter Six

In the two weeks until the Homecoming weekend, Harold was careful not to wear one piece of clothing that was not male; the sole exception was for the time he was in the costume shop at the Theater, when he dressed in the clothes of “Heidi,” the costume girl.

Harold also tried hard to eliminate his feminine mannerisms that had become second nature; his erect walk that exaggerated his hip sway and was accompanied by the swing of his arms. He could not rid himself of the feeling that he was a female, that his slender, fragile body was that of a girl. Yet, he was trying.

At the end of the first week of this effort to be more masculine, he came face-to-face with Kevin, who had so terribly snubbed him after his evening of being dressed as “Heidi.”

They met on the front steps as Harold was returning home in the late afternoon; Harold sought at first to avoid eye contact, but Kevin stopped in front of him, forcing Harold to pause and look directly at his onetime friend.

“Hi, Harold,” Kevin said, tentatively.

“Hi,” Harold said in a hardly audible voice. He looked into the tall, pale, slender boy’s eyes, and felt a sudden warmth and connection, revitalizing their brief but earlier intense friendship.

“I’ve missed you,” the older boy said.

Harold didn’t respond, but looked at Kevin intently. It was Kevin who broke off the friendship; now, Harold wondered, did he want to renew it?

Harold agreed to join Kevin in a walk into a wooded area near the lake that adjoined the campus; the two walked the several blocks without comment, and as soon as they headed into the more hidden paths, he felt Kevin long fingers on his forearm. It felt so good to again feel the other boy’s touch. They found an empty bench and sat together, knees touching, with Kevin taking both of Harold’s hands in his.

“I’m sorry I was so mean to you,” Kevin apologized. “But, I can’t see you as a girl.”

“Oh. I was a girl just for the night.”

“I know. But, Harold, my dearest, I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Harold was shocked to hear Kevin say the word, “love.” He had felt a strong affection for the other boy, had wanted to kiss him even, but “love” between two males was a strange concept to Harold.

Harold looked into Kevin’s eyes, saying nothing, seeing a moistness appear in the older boy’s blue eyes. Kevin had a sorry excuse for a beard, but Harold again felt the need to kiss the other boy.

“Oh Harold, when I saw you dressed up as a girl, and looking so much like a girl, I couldn’t help it. You looked so real as a girl that I couldn’t imagine being in love with you. And I snapped, yelled at you. I’m so sorry.”

“You love me as a boy?” Harold replied, somewhat mystified by the conversation.

“Oh yes, Harold, I cried almost every night since then, thinking you will be a tranny or CD or something. I want you as the boy you are. You’re not a girl! Not to me, anyway.”

Suddenly the two were embracing, kissing madly, but they stopped after a few seconds when they heard footsteps on the path.

Harold was now confused; he felt strong affection for Kevin, wanted to feel his caresses and kisses. He couldn’t understand why the other boy could not love him when he was “Heidi.”

For the next week at least, he realized that while he was Harold his love for Kevin would be realized. But would Kevin, who was obviously gay, ever accept Heidi? That question remained to be answered.

*****
It was in the costume room where Harold felt most at home, most comfortable. There, he donned a pair of sweat shorts, a tee-shirt and girl tennis shoes, covering it all with a floral designed smock. He tied his hair in the back, putting various combs and materials in his hair. There, all the crew knew him as Heidi as his natural femininity seemed to take over take over his entire demeanor.

Harold was putting the finishing touches on Rachel’s dress, but the work of the play kept interrupting his completion of the dress. He was beginning to worry that he’d not get it done in time for the dance. She loved the dress he had designed for her, and said she wanted to pay for the material.

“Oh no, I don’t want that, Rachel,” Harold protested. He knew she was struggling to pay her rent and tuition, coming from a family with a low income.

“But the dress is going to be so beautiful,” she said. “I love to see you sew, Harold. You have such pretty hands and they move so daintily as you work.”

Harold smiled, knowing that to the backstage crew and the actors, he was known only as “Heidi,” the costume girl. Harold had learned early in his work that actors usually are so rapped up in themselves they pay no attention to the backstage crew, treating them almost as their slaves. “Go see the costume girl,” he had heard more than one actor told when they had a costume problem.

He loved the reference and he accepted the role of Heidi with great eagerness. He found that for several hours as day in the costume room he could be the person he truly felt he was: a lovely young woman.

The Harvest Dance was to be held on Saturday night of Homecoming Weekend, and Harold had but three days to complete Rachel’s dress; to finish it in time to give Harold time to fix any problems with the fit, he decided to work Wednesday night in the costume shop, hoping to complete the work by 9 p.m.

Grace had agreed to come back with Rachel about then to try the dress on, and Harold had been working feverishly applying sequins to the bodice. Except for three actors rehearing lines on stage, the theater was quiet. The heat had been turned up for some reason and the costume shop was stifling; Harold was wearing only his shorts and a pink tank top and his hair had straggled loose, some strands falling across his face. He was constantly flicking the hair away, and he knew he was sweaty and dirty.

He finally completed the dress about 8:30 p.m. and stood up, holding it in front of himself as he looked in a full-length mirror to get an idea about how it might look on Rachel. He sashayed a bit, holding the dress first one way, and then another.

He was deep in concentration, when suddenly a male figure appeared in the mirror, standing behind him.

“That’s a lovely dress,” the man said. The room was dimly lit and it took a minute for Harold to realize it was the Theater Group’s director, Milton Kastner.

“Oh, Mr. Kastner, I didn’t hear you come in,” Harold said, his voice in the high register it often hits when he’s stressed or surprised.

“Is that for the play?” he asked.

Harold was nonplussed. What should he say? Should he admit it was a personal project?

“Ah, no, Mr. Kastner. I’m doing it for a friend for the Harvest Dance. But I’m not using any theater group materials. I bought all . . .”

“Oh no, honey, I wasn’t worried about that.”

Harold put the dress down, and brushed his hair from his face, realizing he must look awful, being so sweaty and dirty.

“You’re the costume girl for our play, aren’t you? Aren’t you Heidi?”

Harold hesitated. “Ah, ah, yes. They call me Heidi.”

“Well Heidi, I saw your light on here as we’re about to leave, and wanted to tell you what a great job you’re doing on the costumes.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kastner.” Harold was indeed pleased to hear that; he had never spoken to the director.

“No really, all of the actors have said how easy you are to work with and how quickly you fix their costumes to fit. And, I love what you’re done for Juliet. You’re truly a talented girl.”

Harold blushed, knowing that it would be fruitless to point out to the director that the “costume girl” was really a guy.

The director moved close to Harold, and lightly pulled back some of the loose strands of hair from Harold face. He looked closely at Harold. He smiled.

“You know, you have a very pretty face, Heidi,” he said. “Have you ever acted?”

Harold was puzzled. What was Mr. Kastner asking?

“Not really. I only did costumes in high school. I did play the oldest daughter in ‘Fiddler’ for one night when the actress got sick. I had been asked to memorize her lines just in case.”

“Well, you’re very lovely girl, but I’d hate to take you away from the costumes,” he said.

“Thank you, Mr. Kastner. It’s kind of you to recognize our work.”

“You know, Heidi, the play can’t go on without everyone’s contributions.”

With that, he leaned over, hugging Harold lightly, and kissing him on the cheek; it was the typical theatrical embrace that usually meant nothing, but it excited Harold anyway. This marvelous director (Mr. Kastner was recognized throughout the theater world for his talents) had kissed him; actually, Harold realized, he had kissed Heidi.

Harold was still ecstatic over the incident when Rachel and Grace arrived. Rachel tried the dress on, and they all were thrilled as to how she looked in it.

Grace looked at Harold, as if to say: When will you make me pretty?

Harold sensed her question, realizing that he had treated Grace rather perfunctorily. “I’d like to make you a dress too sometime, Grace,” he said.

“Heidi,” Grace replied. “I mean you need to make me pretty for your mother tomorrow night. I don’t know how to dress so I look nice and attractive. I’ve never dressed for a nice date, before.”

Harold looked at her in surprise: “You are a very attractive person, Grace. You have such a nice face and pretty eyes.”

“Pretty eyes. Pretty eyes. That’s what my mommy says. Look how fat I am,” she literally burst into tears.

“Damn, Grace. You’re not fat,” Rachel chimed in.

“I am, too.”

“Grace, I think we can dress you up pretty,” Harold said. “Let me meet your tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll get you into a nice dress and fix you hair and makeup.”

“Would you Harold?”

“Yes, Grace, I’d love to do it.”

“Oh Harold, you know so much more about how a girl should look than I do. Would you help me?”

Harold smiled: “Yes, and so will Rachel.”

She hugged Harold, pulling his slender body next to her, kissing him firmly and with an unusual passion. The moment ended far too quickly, and Harold changed out of his “costume girl” clothes and into his male outfits for the walk back to the frat house.

*****
Harold’s mother called him at the frat house late on Friday afternoon. “Bill and I are at the hotel now, darling. We’re in room 312.”

“Hi mom. His name’s Bill?”

“Yes darling. I guess I didn’t tell you. He was a friend of daddy’s from Bloomington; they grew up together. He’s a sweetheart.”

“That’s good, mom. I’ll look forward to meeting him.” Harold said this without any real enthusiasm, fearing what her boy friend was going to think about him.

“He’s a widower and he was feeling lonely, Harold. He’s really very nice. I think you’ll like him.”

They agreed to pickup Harold at 6 p.m. for supper; he was to arrange to have Grace ready by 6:30 p.m. when they’d pick her up.

“Is she a sweet girl, darling?” his mother asked.

“Yes, mother. She’s very nice, but we’re not the boy/girl thing you know. We’re just friends from the backstage crew.”

“I wish you’d get a real girl friend sometime, honey,” she said.

“Oh mom.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” she backtracked.

“Oh mom, that’s OK, I know you just want me to be happy. And, mom, I am happy now.”

“That’s great son. I know you’ll like Bill. He and your dad were very good friends.”

They ended the conversation with each sharing, “I love you.”

Harold loved his mother very much; she had spent her entire life after his father’s death caring for him. She seemed to understand his feminine nature, even though she was confused by it. A slender, smallish woman, she had married a muscular athlete, and their only son turned out to be more like her.

She had noticed how interested Harold had been in her clothes and how she dressed; when he expressed an interest in learning to sew and use the sewing machine, she was shocked at first. Then she realized how important it was for him to have an interest in something, particularly since he would never be athletic.

And, indeed, it developed that it was those skills at the womanly art of sewing and dress designing that would help him achieve in high school.

Her son’s growing effeminate behavior haunted Elisa Cochran; she was shocked when she saw the high school play program list “Harold Cochran Jr.,” as “Head Costume Girl.” She worried that she had done wrong by encouraging him to sew, particularly since she may be doing dishonor to the memory of her late athletic husband.

Now, she wondered whether placing Harold into his father’s fraternity house would change him, make him aspire to more masculine activities. Or, would he become victimized by the cruel behavior that sometimes featured frat houses?

Harold knew instinctively what his mother was hoping; and he knew that he was betraying her desires.

His stomach began to churn as he considered what might occur that night. He could see Bill, his mother’s new boy friend, examining him closely, comparing Harold slight, somewhat effeminate body with his old friend’s muscular, athletic physique. His mother, he realized, might be very tense, too. Perhaps that was why she inquired if the girl he was bringing might not be a real “girl friend.” Harold knew he was under scrutiny.

Harold had told Willy, the frat president, that his mother was coming for a visit; he informed the brothers, and the frat was excited to hear of the visit by Scotty Cochran’s widow and Harold’s mother. Even though there was to be a reception the following day on Saturday, Willy said he’d be there on Friday night to greet Mrs. Cochran, and introduce her around. Harold was not happy with this, since he was afraid someone would mention how Harold dressed one night as girl, and was easily the prettiest girl at the party.

When his mother and her boy friend arrived finally, exactly at 6 p.m., Harold was fully dressed, having put on light grey slacks, a blue button-down shirt and a Navy Blue blazer with cold buttons. He had combed his hair back, seeking to de-emphasize its length, which tended to make him look feminine.

“Should I wear a tie?” he asked Jason, who had helped him get ready for the evening’s events. Jason had become a most understanding friend.

“No, I think you look very handsome as you are,” he said. “I’m sure your mom and Grace will like you too.

“I hope they like Grace,” Harold said.

“Oh they will, Harold. It was so cool how we helped her pick out a nice dress last night.”

Harold, Jason and Rachel had all tended to helping Grace find the appropriate clothes. Like Rachel, Grace had never been particularly fashion conscious, having been more interested in social justice and anti-Iraq war causes than in dressing pretty.

Again, it was Harold’s advice that most helped make Grace’s choices. When they finished, Grace was transformed into a very pretty young lady. Her round face was framed by fixing her hair to fall down about her ears, then curling the ends. Harold suggested she wear a full floral skirt of knee length and a light blue camisole covered by a dark jacket. She was to wear two-inch sandals, so that she would not tower over Harold too noticeably. Even without heels, she was an inch taller than Harold.

“Bill, this is my son, Harold,” his mother said as the two entered the foyer of the frat house. “And, Harold, this is Bill Forster.”

Harold, putting on his most gentlemanly manners, extended his hand to the tall, handsome middle-aged man before him, saying “Nice to meet you, Mr. Forster.”

“It’s Bill, please, Harold.”

Harold tried to provide a firm handshake as his slender, tiny hand would permit, and to his credit, his mother’s boy friend, grasped his hands gently, but firmly. The pleasantries were brief, and Willy, the frat president, joined them.

To his relief, the visit to the frat house went off without a hitch. Harold had purged his part of his room of any feminine traits, and no one, mercifully, mentioned his evening as a girl.

Grace looked absolutely ravishing when they picked her up, and the evening began with great promise. Bill turned out to be a warm, friendly person. He was slightly bald, but with his fringe of grey hair looked astonishingly handsome. It turned out both he had Harold were dressed alike, grey trousers, blue blazer and light blue button-down shirt.

It turned out that Bill Forster had played football with Harold’s father, playing center. He was a big-boned man, but had maintained a slender, mildly muscular body. Bill's wife of 14 years had died unexpectedly of cancer, leaving him to raise their two children, both slightly older than Harold, all attending colleges in other cities.

Harold could see his mother was happy with this man, and he hoped he would do nothing to ruin that friendship. Bill held his mother’s hand as they walked, assisted in opening doors, and pulling out chairs. He was a perfect gentleman, and Harold followed suit, following all the proper gentlemanly behaviors with Grace.

“How did you two meet?” Bill asked as the meal was being served.

“Oh, we’re in the same English class, and we’re also on the backstage crew of the Theater group,” Harold explained.

“Nice. You moving scenery, Harold?”

“No. Just backstage stuff,” Harold answered, fudging the answer.

He looked at his mother in desperation.

“You can tell him, Harold, what you really do. Bill might find that interesting.”

“Oh mom, really?”

Grace patted his hand, as if to tell Harold to be quiet for a minute.

“Harold is in the costume department,” Grace said. “He’s absolutely very talented in designing and fitting the clothes for the play.”

Harold knew his face must have reddened. What would this man think now?

His mother added: “Bill, you must know that Harold has very artistic talents. We’re very proud of him.”

“Yes, Mr. Forster, Harold was quickly recognized for that talent and he’s the head of costumes now,” Grace said.

Bill looked at Harold closely, saying nothing for a minute. Finally, he said: “Yes, I can see he must be talented.”

The comment was neutral and Bill’s face gave away no obvious positive or negative feelings towards the revelation about Harold’s talents, as feminine oriented as they were.

“Well, Harold, you should know that Scotty had an artistic side to him as well,” Bill said. “He wasn’t just a macho football player.”

“I guess I never told you that, Harold,” his mother said. “He liked acting in the school plays.”

The evening turned out to be a great success; Harold realized his mother had found a good boy friend, one who understood Harold may be a bit different, but for whom that was no problem.

He even found himself holding hands with Grace, looking at her as someone other than a classmate or platonic friend. They giggled as they both related how Harold had found new athletic prowess in the touch football game.

“Because of his size, he never played football,” his mother said.

“Oh he’s fast, Mrs. Cochran,” Grace said. “And we even taught him to throw the football.”

“Yeh, mom,” Harold said laughing. “You always said I threw like a girl.”

“Well, we taught him, Rachel and I did,” Grace added.

“Rachel and you?” Bill asked inquisitively.

“Rachel’s another costume crew member,” Grace added. “We’re all friends and we’ve started this co-ed football game.”

Harold blushed. “The girls are still better players than me, but I’m working on it. We’re having fun.

It felt good for Harold to be talking openly about his lack of athletic ability and to also be recognized for his unique talents in dress-making.

“Harold, I find it’s important to feel good about yourself,” Bill said. “I see you’re going to be a success in life. I saw from the frat president here and from Grace here that they have a great respect for you. You have some nice friends.”

“I don’t know about all that, Bill, but I’ll keep trying. I might even play quarterback sometime.”

They all laughed as the dessert course began. After the meal, Harold asked that Bill and his mother drop both he and Grace off at her residence, saying he would walk back to the his frat house later. His mother gave him a knowing wink, perhaps encouraging his venture into the world of college romance.

He took Grace’s hand as they walked up to her residence.

“Won’t you come in for a while,” she asked. “There’s a lounge where we can talk.”

They found an isolated corner in a lounge area of the residence hall; Grace was not in a sorority, but lived in a large dormitory. They sat together on a small couch, thigh to thigh.

“Grace you were so lovely tonight,” Harold said.

“Thanks to you, I’ve never felt so pretty,” she said. “I never dated in high school, you know.”

“I didn’t either. I was always smaller than most of the girls.”

“Oh, you are so handsome, Harold, really. And your mom and her friend are so nice.”
They talked for a full hour, finally ending with Grace coming close to Harold, raising her face to his, and inviting a kiss. The two began with a soft, tentative kiss, which soon grew to a full-lipped connection and passionate embraces.

Harold’s penis hardened as they kissed, but Grace suddenly cut off the connection. “We better not get too hot,” she said.

In Harold’s innocence and naiveté, he quickly retreated, thanking her for the nice evening. They broke apart, with Grace taking the elevator to her room, and Harold walking out into the cool autumn evening, still feeling very spacey. It was a wonderful feeling; he had never had such a feeling before.

*****
The walk home gave him time to think about the happenings of the last few weeks, and the confusion he now felt. Even though he was dressed as a very proper male, he realized he was walking with the lilting step of a girl. He had developed his feminine mannerisms so easily, and they seemed to have taken over his whole being.

Being female, he believed, was his natural self; yet, he had spent the night playing the role of a handsome young man, and he liked that as well. The long kisses with Grace had made him excited and a bit spacey; then, too there was Kevin and his affection for Harold, but only in his male mode.

“I am a girl,” he said to himself out loud, hoping no one was walking nearby as he said it. His fragile, almost dainty body, he realized, was that of a girl’s, and he was fond of thinking how pretty he could be as a girl. As he continued back to the frat house, he realized he was still walking with that feminine quality, hands swinging, hips swaying and chest thrust forward.

“I am a girl,” he said again, smiling to himself. Yes, he was a girl, but somehow he’d have to figure out how to bring that fact into reality.

(To be continued)