"You'll look like Angela - in a mirror!"

How often does something REALLY unexpected happen in the average life. Once? Twice? Never?

"It's just you copying what Angela does - as if in a mirror. You've got to be a look-alike, y'know. You can do it," Ashya insisted.

An AP-500 story

My Dad enjoys everything. Even making time for me when I’ve got problems.

Mum is different. She does all the feeding, looking after, all the expected mum-stuff but I don’t think she enjoys it much. I did overhear once her tearful about ‘if only ..’ but ……

Perhaps there’s something missing in her life. I do my best but I’m only me – I don’t do a lot excellently. I’m reasonably above-average at stuff but ‘Super-Kid’ - I know I’m not. I’m sixteen, nearly seventeen, five foot six, solid rather than skinny. I enjoy most lessons, do a bit with various sports, but I have joined the theatre-club – at my backstage lighting desk.

I have my hobbies, interests, ‘things-I-like-to-do’. And I do like to do things thoroughly. Sometimes this can be a mistake.

“Roger…… could you spare a moment” the director’s shout echoed through the backstage.

“It’s just an experiment – first, just show Jane how to work t’lights. If this goes ahead, she’ll need to run the last act for about 7 minutes.”

“What!”

“Fret not, chummy. Just a thing in my head. You’ll be onstage for about 4 minutes - 90 seconds to get on and off. Easy.” Ashya started explaining.

My expression went from white to scarlet to …. most colours of the rainbow. I was furious, embarrassed, scared, excited, wondering and really nervous. “You want me onstage in a dress acting as the mirror for Jane?”

“Zactly so. I’ve planned a routine that’ll stun everyone if it works. Just f’ntastic. Just y’wait and see.” Everyone finds it hard to resist an excited Ashya. Five foot three, skinny as a bone with frizzy blonde hair.

After much discussion, Ashya insisted on coming home with me to ask my mum for her help …… in dressing me as a girl. I had insisted that I wasn’t going to do it unless I looked at least adequate. I’d been persuaded that the only choice was me as nobody else even faintly matched Jane in height and shape.

My mum was so far beyond disbelief that it was almost funny. Then gradually I could see her coming round to the idea of helping out. Then she became enthusiastic.

It took time. But in the end, a few days later, I had to agree that they had made me look sufficiently similar to Angela as we stood together. Mum said ‘why tell him until we’ve done a test-run.’ And we looked ‘f’ntastic’. My Dad couldn’t tell the difference. He’d been away and when we showed him. F’ntastic.

But I now loved everything about it. From being an out-of-sight null-nerd – I was now a fan of ….. well everything. I loved the silky sleek undies and even the corset(!) that matched what Angela wore [the mirror-routine included removing the dress!]. I loved the feel of it instead of jeans. I loved the dress, the lipstick, perfume, silk, satin. Everything.

And mum loved having a daughter. She’d bought lots of clothes!!! For Rosa – for me!

Another 500-word story to borrow, build on, expand (and acknowledge please). AP