"It was pale yellow," she recalled. "I could sort of see it through the dress."

"Uh, it wasn't a bra," I replied. "It was a bathing suit."

"Oh," she laughed. "A bathing suit?"

I sighed. How much was I going to have to admit to?
 

---

 

9. The Situation Is Contained
 

When I left school that day, Diana was outside waiting. I glanced at her, but said nothing. She silently fell in alongside me, and we walked for several blocks without saying a word.

After we'd left the sounds of school children behind, and after the car traffic dwindled away, when there was nothing and no one anywhere nearby, Diana finally spoke.

"Do you remember that boy Billy, who moved away in the middle of sixth grade?"

I thought for a moment. "Yeah, kinda."

"He used to come over my house and play dress up–"

"Diana," I interrupted, "I–"

"Wait," she said. "Let me tell you this, and then you can talk. Anyway, one time I told my mother that his name was Marie and she took us to a park in Wellesley..."

"Diana," I interrupted again, "I don't–"

"No, wait," she said. "I'm almost done. This story's not about him, it's about me. So listen. When she found out he was a boy she was SO MAD. I mean, boiling mad. I couldn't sit for a week, and he couldn't come over to play any more." She fell silent.

"Is that the story?" I asked, a little rudely. "Are you done?" I didn't see the point of the story, and I didn't care. All I wanted was to tell her that I didn't like wearing girls clothes; that I didn't want to be a girl.

"No," she said. "This is the end: he moved away. I don't know why. I always thought that it was my fault, because I tricked my mother. I always felt bad about it. I *still* feel bad about it. I feel guilty. And I always wondered..."

"Wondered what?" I asked in spite of myself.

"I wondered about him. I wondered why. Why did he want to wear dresses? Does he still want to? Did he want to be a girl? And what ever happened to him? Did he get in trouble, too? And was it really so bad, what I did?"

I stole a glance at her as we walked, the two of us dragging our feet through the fallen leaves.

"But, Diana," I said, "that story doesn't have anything to do with me. I don't want to be a girl, and I don't like to wear girls clothes."

She turned to me with a confused look. "But I *saw* you!" she retorted. "You *were* dressed like a girl!"

"Right," I said. "That was for Halloween."

"No," she said. "Halloween is *next* week. I saw you *last* week."

"Right," I said. "We were getting ready."

She smiled a little and said, "I understand: you had to get a running start."

"No. The thing is, Miranda doesn't know that I'm a guy." (Of course, that wasn't true any more, but there was no need to tell Diana.)

"She doesn't?"

"No."

"Oh! So she really isn't your girlfriend?"

"No," I said.

She pondered this. "So every time you've seen her, you had to pretend to be a girl?"

"Pretty much," I answered with a sigh. The situation was so uncomfortable! Was there a quick way to end this conversation?

At that moment, Diana made a face and did a funny skip-step.

"What are you doing?" I asked her.

She looked embarrassed. "I drank a whole lot of water just before I saw you, and now I... I have to go to the bathroom!"

We hurried the rest of the way to my house, and she ran to the toilet on the first floor. I couldn't help but recall her long, slow drink yesterday. If she drank a lot of water, it must have taken at least an hour. Or more.

Finally she emerged from the bathroom, and went right back to the questions. "So, how many times have you seen Miranda?"

I squirmed a bit and said, "Could you quit asking me questions, Diana?"

"Oh, sure," she said. "I should go now, anyway."

With a great sense of relief, I started toward the door.

She stepped through the door, stopped and turned back. "Hey, there's just one thing: if you went to the thrift store with Miranda, where did you get the first dress?"

"The first dress?" I repeated, not understanding.

"Yeah, the one you wore to the store."

"I didn't. I wore my own clothes to the store."

She frowned. "But if Miranda doesn't know..."

I groaned. "Look: Miranda and her mother showed up there when I was trying on a dress for Miranda."

"Huh?"

"We're the same size," I explained blushing.

"Oh," she said, but she didn't look quite convinced.

I huffed, "My mother needed a dress for Miranda's costume. She wanted me to try it on so Miranda wouldn't have to come. But then she showed up anyway. While I had the dress on. Since she thinks I'm a girl, I had to go with it."

"Oh." She frowned. "And all of that–" she waved her hand in a circle "–it was just a big coincidence."

"Yeah."

I had my hand on the door. She was only partway outside, so I couldn't close it. Diana didn't move, so I waggled the door to give a subtle hint.

It was a hint she didn't take. She was thinking. Well, not thinking. She was picturing that night, calling up the visual image of the two little girls in the toy room, seeing their faces, their hair, how they were dressed... and one odd detail popped out at her.

"But..." she began, uncertainly, "but... you were wearing underwear..."

"Of course I was," I laughed. "I never leave home without it."

"No, I mean, you had on, like, a training bra. Didn't you?"

I blushed, which she took for a yes.

"It was pale yellow," she recalled. "I could sort of see it through the top."

"Uh, it wasn't a bra," I replied. "It was a bathing suit."

"Oh," she laughed. "A bathing suit?"

I sighed. How much was I going to have to admit to? "My mother made me put it on because my nipples showed."

Diana started giggling. She put her hand to her mouth. Her hair fell across her face, and the giggles came bubbling out. Even in the midst of my distress I had to admit she looked awfully cute.

"Can we stop here?" I asked her. "I don't think I can be any more embarrassed."

"Can I see the bathing suit?" she asked. "Then I'll go. I don't really believe you, because bathing suit tops have big seams that would have shown through."

"Why is it important?" I asked. I didn't want to show it to her.

"Because I think it was underwear for girls."

"Well, it wasn't, but what if it was? What difference would it make?"

"It would mean that you brought it with you, that you wore it to the store."

I looked at her in disbelief. "Well, it wasn't and I didn't."

She turned her face slightly to the side and smirked. "So show me."

"Fine!" I said. "Please come in!" She entered. I shut the door with a bang. We went upstairs to my room, where I made a great show of opening my underwear drawer. I picked up the yellow bathing suit, and gestured with my hand at the rest of my underwear. "See, Diana? All for boys. It's all boy underwear."

She took the bathing suit top and felt the material with her fingers. "Whoo," she said. "This is nice, but nobody could ever wear it in public. You're right: it is a bathing suit, but it really looks like underwear." She fingered the straps, and shrugged. "So I was wrong."

"Okay, good," I said. "I'm glad we settled that very important point."

"Do you still have that outfit?" she asked.

"Ah, no," I said in a decisive tone. "I threw it out." But I couldn't stop my eyes from darting toward the right end of my closet, where the clothes, plural, were hanging. I knew that my closet door was closed, but something in me had to check.

I saw that she saw. I knew that she knew, and she knew that I knew she knew. She smiled, and made a sudden leap toward the closet. I jumped, too, and quickly caught her around the waist. Unfortunately, she had one hand on the sliding door, and when it opened she saw the dresses.

She breathed out a soft "Oh!" She'd only expected one dress, but instead found a cache.

Now I have to tell you that something strange and new was happening to me. Today was the first time in my life that I ever felt a good thing and a bad thing happen at the same time... AND the bad thing didn't completely ruin the good one.

The bad thing, of course, was having Diana discover all those feminine clothes. There were three dresses, two skirts, and three tops. I know it sounds like a lot, but they hardly cost anything, and at the time it helped make Juliette seem real to Miranda.

The good thing was that my left arm was wrapped around Diana's waist. She has a nice waist, I discovered. My fingertips rested on her right side, and the base of my hand was over her belly button. My right hand was on her back. When I first grabbed her, she was crouching over, but now she straightened up. Her hair smelled like peaches or something... and my pinky touched the top of her hip bone. I didn't want to let go, and she wasn't trying to get away.

She moved, and her left butt cheek pressed against my stomach for a moment. It was like a revelation, an illumination. At that moment I wished the wish I've had so many times before: that I was taller.

"Oh, Diana," I groaned as she slipped forward, out of my embrace.

"Why do you have all these?" she asked, her voice full of wonder.

"Because they didn't cost that much, and they helped make Miranda think I was a girl."

Diana stopped. "You know, you always say that Miranda is your friend. Isn't she going to be upset when she finds out who you really are?"

"Ah," I began uncertainly. The fact that Miranda knew the truth was supposed to be a secret, but I could see that my secrets were not fairing so well lately.

"Are you going to go on being— what does she call you?"

"Juliette," I said, blushing deeply and wishing I could die.

Diana sucked in her lower lip and nodded. She went back to the clothes in my closet. "All these clothes still have tags on them," she observed.

"Tags?"

"Price tags. You never wore these?"

"No," I said, grateful for a ray of hope. "I told you. They're just props."

"Props?" she didn't seem to understand the word. "Oh, all of them have tags except these two," she said. "This is the one you were wearing at the shop, and this one — wow!"

She pulled the silk skirt out of the closet. "This is so cool!" Holding it away from her, she felt the material and turned it over several times, to see it front and back.

Then she held it against herself. "Darn! It's way too small!"

I smiled ruefully.

"You're so lucky," she said, "There are so many really nice clothes for girls your size."

"Oh, yeah, I'm so lucky," I agreed sarcastically.

"Sorry!" she said. "But honestly, I wish I was your size." She took the skirt off the hanger, and draped it against herself, as if in some way she could make it work.

A light went off in my head. I'd always been so busy wishing I was as tall as everyone else. I never thought of wishing that everyone else was *my* size. If just Diana was short like me, that would fix everything.

"So, could you?" Diana was saying.

"Could I what? Oh, no, no. No way. I'm not trying anything on. I won't even hold it up against me. No, I told you, I don't–"

In the end I gave up. After a little bit of wheedling and pleading, but above all after the promise that she'd leave right after, I put on the outfit. I even used the pale yellow bathing suit as underwear. I put on the Clarkina glasses for her, but just for a moment. I was a little angry at the glasses; they hadn't protected me after all.

True to her word, Diana let me walk her to the door after she'd seen me in the museum outfit. I shut the door behind her, plopped into a chair, and tried to figure it all out.

I took an inventory: who knew about Juliette?

At this point, Lou knew what I was doing, but he didn't want to know. Good so far.

Lou's mother knew what I was doing, and wanted me to keep at it. Bad, but not awful: all I had to do was NOT keep at it. Simple.

Miranda knows who I am, so once Halloween is past, there won't be any problem. That was the best situation so far.

Diana, on the other hand... what was Diana's thing? She was curious about boys who wear dresses. She thought I was that kind of boy. None of my protests or denials meant anything to her. I had to admit, the circumstantial evidence was against me.

At the same time, she knew the danger I was in: if other people thought I was the way she thought it was, well... She thought it was her fault that Billy had moved away. Maybe it was. She wouldn't want that to happen again, so I was pretty confident she'd keep my secret.

I shifted around in the chair. Everything seemed okay, but... it was aggravating to have such a good plan get out of control like this. It wasn't too far out of control. The situation was contained. I liked that phrase, so I repeated it to myself, and felt much better: The situation is contained.

My mother walked in just as a smile broke on my face. The situation is contained. It could be my mantra.

"Well, don't you look happy," Mom commented, as her eyes swept over me.

"I'm okay," I said smugly.

"I see," she said, and tilted her head to study me.

"What?" I asked.

"You, ah, really like that outfit, don't you?"

I looked down and suddenly saw what I was wearing: when Diana left, I was so concerned with figuring things out that I'd forgotten to change my clothes! I had on the whole museum outfit, shoes included.

"Oh, no," I said, "It was just, ah–" I didn't want to tell her about Diana. It was bad enough that it had happened; if Mom knew about it, it would only make it worse. "I was only–"

"It's okay," she said.

"But I don't–" I began.

"It's okay," she insisted. "In fact, I was going to ask you whether Miranda could come over tomorrow after school, and then stay for dinner."

"Oh, sure," I said. "That would be nice."

"You understand," she said, looking me in the eye, "that you'll have to wear one of the dresses we got at the thrift. But it doesn't look like that will be a problem."

"Uh, no, no problem," I croaked.

"Fine," she said. "You'll have to come straight home from school, so you get here before she does. I'll lay out the clothes for you, and we'll tell your father tonight, so he doesn't have a heart attack when he walks in the door.

"Speaking of which, it might be a good idea if you change back to Victor before he gets home."

"Right, right," I agreed. "I'll go change now."

"Okay," she said, her eyes fixed on my face.

I smiled a toothy smile that was meant to be reassuring, but it didn't look like it helped anything.

---

Dad did most of the talking at dinner: he told us about his job, his co-workers, his boss, some trip that was coming up. He was pretty animated; it seemed like things were going exceptionally well. He hoped that a promotion or a raise was coming his way in the next few months.

When he was done, Mom told him that Miranda would be coming over. He nodded as he chewed some salad.

"She'll be here for dinner, too," Mom went on.

"Fine," he joked. "We have plenty of food."

"The thing is," Mom reminded him, "Victor will have to d–"

"Oh," he said, and stopped chewing. "Oh, I see." He set his fork down and thought for a bit.

"Do you want to work late tomorrow, or have dinner out somewhere?" Mom asked.

"No, no," he said. "I'll be here. It's just the uh–" He didn't look at me, as he searched for something to say.

"Why don't you work a little late," Mom suggested. "It's not a problem."

"You sure?"

"Yes," she said. "In a few days this will all be over."

"Okay," he said. "It's a — It's just a —"

"It's fine," Mom said. "Don't worry about it."

---

Lou was back in school the next day, much to everyone's relief. Since I wasn't going, I hadn't thought about it, but the party was a much bigger deal that I would have guessed. Everybody was going to be there, including all the guys who scoffed at Halloween as something for little kids.

Lou was right. If only I'd waited, I wouldn't have had to do anything out of the ordinary.

At lunch, he invited me to come to his house after school.

"Sorry, I'd like to, but I can't. Miranda's coming over today."

"Oh, a hot date, huh?" he laughed.

"Come on," I said.

"It's okay, Chapters. I'm just yanking your chain."

I shrugged, as if to say it's okay.

Lou's face was still pale. He'd been out with the flu or a virus or something, and he still seemed a little weak and washed out. But he smiled and told me, "You know, I might have a girlfriend, too, this weekend."

"Oh, yeah?" I said, interested. "Who?"

"Oh, I'm not saying yet," he said with an air of mystery. "And don't bother guessing, because I won't say."

Honestly, I didn't know who I could guess. I didn't have the slightest idea. I mean, I knew which girls he liked to look at, but they were the same girls we all liked to look at. There wasn't one in particular that he seemed to favor, and there wasn't any girl I knew who had eyes for him.

We walked home together, but he was moving so slowly it was hard to keep pace with him. "Lou, I'm sorry, but I got to get home..."

"It's cool," he said. "You go. I'm still a little low from being sick." He smiled. "Say hello to your girlfriend for me."

"Are you going to be okay?" I asked.

"Oh, yeah," he said. "I just barfed my guts out for a day and a half, that's all. I'm feeling better, really. Don't worry."

"Okay," I said, and took off running.

My mother waved me upstairs as soon as I was in the door, and I found an outfit laid out on my bed. It was a ruffly denim skirt, a green tee shirt with short, gathered sleeves, and a turquoise cardigan with green stitching that matched the shirt. I hadn't seen any of the clothes before.

There was also a pair of gray and white sneakers with pink trim, a pair of ankle socks with images of tiny puppies, and a pair of panties decorated with blue flowers.

"MOM!" I called out loudly, but she could hear me just fine. She was standing in the doorway.

"I didn't mean to buy all that," she told me. "I just went to get you some underwear, socks, and sneakers, but when I saw the outfit, I thought you might like it." She didn't smile when she said it. She looked kind of... serious. I realized later that she wanted to see my reaction.

I gaped, "I, uh... it's, uh, great."

"You better get changed right now, because Miranda's going to be here any minute. You two will have to play downstairs, because this is obviously not a young girl's room.

"I took out some card games and board games you two can play, and I got you a doll, in case that comes up. Her name is Madison. Got it?"

"Yeah," I said. "Got it. Madison. Oh my God."

© 2007, 2008 by Kaleigh Way