An unhappy boy heeds the pleas of his little sister
By Katherine Day
(Copyright 2018)
An unhappy boy heeds the pleas of his little sister
By Katherine Day
(Copyright 2018)
Sometimes, Tommy hated his sister. She was such a tease and he should have ignored her. At eleven years old, she was the younger of the two by just about a year and he should have been “man” about it and just walked away from her, but he didn’t. Tonya knew the teasing bothered him badly; so, she kept it up.
“Mom,” he wailed one autumn afternoon after school. “She’s teasing me again.”
“Oh, you two,” their mother said, her tone exasperated as she charged out of her bedroom and into the living room where the two were having their back-and-forth confrontations. “You know I have to get ready for work and I don’t have time for this now.”
“But mom,” Tommy whined.
“Oh, Christ, Tonya,” she turned toward the girl. “You know you shouldn’t bug your brother. He just gets all upset. Why do you do it?”
Tonya looked at her mother, feigning both ignorance and outrage at being accused of teasing. “I was just modeling my new dress for our middle school dance, mom. I don’t know why he calls that teasing.”
“You know full well you were bugging him Tonya. Now both of you behave, or I’ll be late for the supper shift.”
Tonya stuck her tongue out at Tommy as their mother returned to the bedroom. “You squealer,” she hissed at him. When Tommy turned twelve, his mother felt he was responsible enough so that she no longer had to take the two children to her mother while she worked at Maurice’s, a first class restaurant where she had long waitressed and was well-rewarded with tips. Both kids agreed to the arrangement, with the further caveat that “You, Tonya, must obey your brother, even if you don’t like it.”
“But mom . . .” Tonya had begun to argue.
“No buts, Tonya Marie,” their mother had said, using Tonya’s full name to press home the point that she meant business. “Do what he says, and if you think he’s being unfair, we can talk about it when I get home.”
“OK, but he can be such a priss,” Tonya said.
“I am not,” Tommy quickly argued.
“You are, too, a prissy little girl.”
“He’s not a girl, Tonya. Quit teasing your brother.”
Tommy blushed as his sister again called him a “girl,” knowing it was said only to bug him. He knew she used the term to fuss about the firm rules he placed on her when their mother was gone. No boy should want to be called a “girl,” he knew, but while it embarrassed him, he also was excited by the idea of being a girl.
“Don’t call me a girl, Tonya,” Tommy said to his sister, once their mother had gone.
“I’m sorry Tommy, but you make me so mad with all your rules. And you are prissy, Tommy.”
“I’m just doing what mom tell us to do. I’m not prissy, either.”
Tonya smiled at him, a mischievous smile that Tommy recognized only too well. His sister’s behavior always raised suspicions that she was about to do something that would bother him.
“You liked my dress, didn’t you, Tommy?” she asked suddenly.
Tommy’s face flushed. “Ah, yeah. It was OK, I guess. I hardly noticed,” he lied.
Tonya responded with a big laugh, “Hah, like you didn’t notice.”
“What’s so funny? I’m going to heat up the spaghetti mom left for us,” he said, turning his back on his sister and leaving for the kitchen.
“Liar,” Tonya said, heading off for her room. “You loved the dress and you were just jealous. You wanted to wear it, didn’t you?”
Tommy didn’t reply. As he opened the refrigerator to get the spaghetti dish, he knew his sister was correct. He loved the dress; he knew he’d look lovely in it, maybe even prettier than Tonya. The dress had been on sale on a previous Saturday when the two youngsters were shopping with their mother, trying to find a dress for Tonya to wear to the middle school dance. Tommy saw a dress almost like it on a mannequin in the teen department at Garfield’s Store in the mall.
“How about this, Tonya?” he asked, drawing her attention to it.
The girl looked at it and smiled, “Mom, here’s one.”
Emily Lundstrom turned to look at the dress, and then to her daughter, shaking her head, “No way. You’re too young for that. Skirt’s too short.”
“But mom,” Tonya pleaded.
“No, that dress is for a senior in high school, not a sixth grader in middle school.”
As the two argued over the dress, Tommy scoured the racks and found a dress that had a slightly longer skirt, but was styled similarly to the sample shown on the mannequin. He pulled it out and held the dress still on its hanger in front of him. “Here’s one that should fit Tonya,” he said.
Spying it, Tonya exclaimed. “I love it, mom. Can I?”
“I said no. It’s too old for you.”
“Mom, that’s the way girls in middle school dress now,” Tommy pleaded, supporting his sister’s pleas.
In the end, Emily Lundstrom succumbed to her children’s pleas and purchased the dress. “After all, it’s on sale today,” she said justifying the purchase.
The dress was sleeveless, had a high bodice and a flared skirt that ended at mid-thigh. It was in a lush burgundy color that would stand out. Tommy thought it was such a sparkling dress that would make his sister stand out at the dance.
*****
That night, Tommy began to feel jealous, wishing that he was a girl who had just gotten a lovely dress like the one their mother purchased for Tonya earlier in the day. He was becoming alarmed that his thoughts about being a girl kept recurring with greater frequency in recent months. He kept picturing himself in dresses, girly shorts or even in a lovely swimming suit. Often, too, he’d recall one muggy summer day when he was eight, and his sister seven and the two found themselves in Tonya’s bedroom stuck in the house as a steady rain poured outside. They had become bored having watched a lot of Nickelodeon and the PBS kid shows while their mother was busy doing her accounts.
“I’m bored,” Tonya said. “Maybe mom could take us to the Bounce Palace? I feel like jumping around.”
The girl began bouncing around on her bed.
“Don’t do that, Tonya, Mom will get mad and besides she said not to bother her. I’m bored, too.”
“How about we play house? Remember, how much fun that was,” Tonya asked bringing back to memory their preschool years when they played “mommy” and “daddy,” often changing roles.
Tommy smiled. He had been the mommy more often than the daddy, remembering how he clogged about in his mother’s heels and his sister’s dresses. Even though he was a year older than Tonya, the two were about the same height and often they wore each others clothes. Those were fun times, but Tommy now was eight and headed in September to the 4th grade.
“Nah,” he said. “We’re too old for that.”
“Come on,” Tonya pleaded. “You can be the mommy.”
“No,” he objected.
“Come on,” she repeated, reaching across the bed upon which the two were lying and grabbing his arm, twisting it.
“Ow, quit it.” She had caught him unawares and began to twist his arm.
“Say yes,” she said applying more pressure.
Tommy couldn’t believe how strong his little sister was; she had him in an arm lock that began to hurt. “You’re hurting me.”
“Say yes, Tommy,” she continued, easing up on the pressure a bit, but not releasing him. He felt powerless. He wanted desperately to call for his mother, but knew she’d get mad if she was interrupted in her work.
Eventually Tommy gave up. Tonya, he realized, was quite a tomboy and likely had more strength in her arms than he did. Tonya was always rough-housing it with the boys in the neighborhood, while Tommy often was content with staying indoors, reading or even helping his mother out. A few days earlier, he had even baked some oatmeal cookies with only minimal supervision from his mother. He was proud of the accomplishment and he would have liked to boast about the achievement but knew it was not something a boy should be advertising.
Soon, Tommy was dressed in his sister’s yellow and teal-colored play dress. It had cap sleeves and a low bodice, ending just above the knees. Tonya brushed Tommy’s longish dark hair so that it hung loosely. Tommy liked his hair long, even if he was sometimes mistaken for a little girl. His sister affixed two barrettes then to give the flowing hair some form.
“You’re so cute, Tommy,” Tonya said. “We could be sisters.”
He nodded. “Tonya put on a dress, too, so we can be like twins,” he said.
The girl found a pink, sleeveless play dress and Tommy brushed her brown hair that was only slightly longer than Tommy’s. Soon the two were dressed, both wearing ankle socks to match their dresses and girlish play shoes.
The two looked at each other in the mirror and began giggling. “We’re both girls,” Tommy said excitedly and began prancing about. Tonya joined him and they did a jig together.
“Let’s go show mommy,” Tonya said.
“No,” Tommy objected. “She’ll get mad. Me in a dress.”
“We used to put on dresses together,” she argued.
“But that was when we were small.”
“Aww, come on. We’re just playing. Let’s show how cute we are. Besides mom will be happy we’re playing together and not fighting.”
Tonya always won these arguments, it seemed, and she won this one. Soon they skipped into the kitchen to interrupt their mother.
“Mommy, we’re sisters,” Tonya announced.
Emily Lundstrom looked up from her work, at first giving the two youngsters a blank stare, apparently not sure what she was seeing.
“Sisters?” she said, still trying to reconcile the sight of the two girls in front of her.
“Yes, mommy,” Tonya said. “Just like when we were little when Tommy dressed up like a girl.”
Their mother’s face got a stern look as she finally realized what she was seeing. “Oh, I don’t know if you should dress like that, Tommy. You’re older now.”
“We’re just playing,” Tonya said.
“And we were bored,” Tommy added.
“Are you OK dressed like that, Tommy?” his mother asked.
“I guess.”
Tonya poked him hard in the ribs but did it so that their mother could not see the action. “It’s OK mom,” he added.
Emily thought for a minute and then said, “OK, if that’s what you want, you’ll have to be dressed like that for the rest of the day, Tommy.”
“But,” he began to object. “I’m a boy. We’re just doing this for fun.”
“You’re stuck, my dear, and both of you will have to do the dishes tonight and clean your rooms,” she said.
“In these dresses, mom?” Tonya asked.
“Yes, in those dresses. But we can’t call this cute little girl by the name of ‘Tommy?’ What’s her name?”
Tommy and Tonya looked at each other. “I don’t know,” Tommy said.
“Why not Tammy?” Tonya offered.
“Yes, yes, Tammy. I’m Tammy,” Tommy shouted, clapping his hands together a beginning to prance about the kitchen.
*****
Now, four years after his play-acting as a girl, Tommy was again wondering what it would be like to have been a girl. The thoughts cropped up often at bedtime and he found himself thinking it might be fun to be a girl. Whenever these thoughts cropped into his head, Tommy realized that he should banish such girlish desires from his mind. He was a boy, wasn’t he? Yet, he couldn’t quit thinking about how he would feel if he had been born a girl. He was constantly bombarded with images of looking soft and feminine and lovely. A look in the mirror when he stood naked after his shower seemed to confirm his girlish physique. He had been painfully thin in the first ten years of his life, but recently had become to put on weight and it made his body look fleshy and without muscle tone. During the summer he refused to go to the local swimming pool, knowing he’d have to disrobe and show his upper body, where breasts had begun to blossom.
He couldn’t imagine himself as a handsome, strong boy. Instead, he figured he’d be much better off as a girl; he’d be lovely, wouldn’t he?
No, no, no. He had to stop thinking about that. He was a boy, right?
*****
Tonya had been correct. Tommy was intrigued by the dress he’d found for Tonya, the one she wore in teasing him about being girly and wanting to wear. He remembered trying to ignore the question Tonya asked as she was taunting, “You loved the dress and you were just jealous. You wanted to wear it, didn’t you?” He knew he wanted to wear it; he even thought about stealing into her room and trying it on while she was gone one day, even though he knew the dress would hardly fit his chubby body. Tonya was slender, wiry and athletic.
After their mother had left for the job, Tommy began to put on the spaghetti dinner for Tonya and himself when his sister entered the kitchen.
“Can I help, Tommy?” she asked.
“Help?” he replied, puzzled. His sister never helped in putting on supper and each night had to be cajoled into doing her assigned chore of washing the dishes afterward.
“Can I help you, Tommy?” she repeated, a bit insistently.
“Oh . . . ah . . . ah . . . yes. You can set the table.”
Once they sat down to eat, Tonya began to talk about her friend, Melanie, and the dress she was going to wear for the middle-school dance.
“Melanie will look real pretty and she hopes that Hampton will notice her,” Tonya said.
“Is she hot for Hampton Fielding?” Tommy asked, surprised since the Fielding boy who lived down the street was already in high school and likely too old for a middle-schooler like Melanie.
“Yeah, and she’ll look so pretty. I love her new dress. She modeled it for me yesterday, and it’s an orange red color. She looks really hot in it.”
“It sounds lovely,” Tommy agreed.
Tonya smiled at her brother. “Tommy, it’s not as nice as the one you found for me. You really know girl clothes.”
Tommy didn’t answer, but began to worry that he was blushing.
Tonya didn’t seem to notice and continued to prattle on, “Thank you so much Tommy for finding that dress and convincing mom that it’d be OK for me to wear it.”
The girl got up from her chair and came over to hug Tommy, shocking him. He couldn’t remember the last time she had been affectionate with him; the two always seemed to be fighting.
“I love you, bro,” she said, smacking a kiss on his cheek.
Tommy wondered why his normally surly sister was acting so nice; it wasn’t in her nature to show affection for him. He was certain she must be softening him up so that he might be more open to letting her do something she shouldn’t be doing.
Tonya’s cell phone rang and before answering she looked at the phone’s screen. “It’s Melanie,” she said, fleeing the kitchen. Soon, Tommy heard her bedroom door slam and he pictured his sister, lying on her bed, flat on her stomach, propped on her arms, her phone next her ear, legs waving in the air. Even though she was just eleven years old, Tommy could see she was quickly blossoming into becoming an attractive pre-teen girl. Tonya also had tons of friends; Tommy lamented that he had only few, and most of them never called him.
Tommy retired to his room, intent upon completing a school project he was developing for one of his middle school classes, an exhibit entitled “Clothing in History.” His goal was to link changes in clothing styles to historic events and he originally sought to use male clothing, but found female outfits far more intriguing. He knew he’d be teased and ridiculed once he’d unveil it before the class, but he had become fascinated with women’s clothes, particularly the full fashions of the Victorian area. He was determined to carry on and finish the project.
There was a knock on his door. “Tommy can I come it?” Tonya asked.
“Huh,” he said, startled out of his musings over a picture of a large woman, fully garbed in the trappings of a voluminous Victorian gown.
“Tommy?”
“Oh yes,” he said, roused from his imaginative ruminations that had him happily posing in such a marvelous gown. He quickly changed the picture on his monitor and yelled back at Tonya to enter.
“You busy?” she asked.
“Just finished my homework,” he lied and changed the subject. “What did Melanie want?”
“Nothin’, we just talked.”
“Oh, what d’ya want then,” Tommy asked, suspicious of his sister’s reasons for wanting to enter his room. Usually the two stayed in their rooms ignoring each other, Tonya busying herself with Facebook comments with her friends and Tommy day-dreaming about his own sorry life, his unhappiness of being virtually friendless, likely due to his own chubby body and ugliness (at least that was the way he thought of himself).
Recently, he had been thinking that he’d be more popular if he were a girl; even the chubby girls he knew in school like Amy Whitehead and Lula Cortez seemed to be popular. His mind had carried him into full-fledged girlhood and he began examining what dresses, skirts and blouses he’d be wearing as a pre-teen girl. Through the magic of Google, he found pages and pages of teen girl clothing and was pleased to find many selections for chubby, or “plus,” girls.
“I just wanted to talk to my nice brother,” she said.
“OK, what about?”
Tonya plopped herself flat on his bed, much to his dislike knowing she’d muss it up. He meticulously made his bed upon rising every morning, and his room was always neat, never a stray sock or piece of underclothing cluttering the floor. In contrast, Tonya’s room was always a mess, her clothing lying all around on the floor.
“Melanie and her older sister have so much fun together, Tommy,” she said.
Melanie’s older sister, Kerianne, was in Tommy’s class; she was a trim, pert girl who was always mischievous but also truly smart, causing her teachers to be alternatingly charmed or frustrated about her. She also was one of the few classmates who seemed to like Tommy and even talk to him.
“Kerianne’s nice,” he agreed.
“I sometimes wish you were my big sister,” Tonya said quickly.
“What? Why?”
“We could be good ‘best friends forever,’ like Melanie and Kerianne.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m a boy.”
“Yeah, but I think you like being a girl.”
“Shut up,” he said, his voice harsh, denying the truth.
“You know all about girl stuff,” Tonya pressed. “Like my new dress. I know you’d like to wear it.”
“It’s not my size.”
Tonya giggled. “No, but I bet they sell it in a chubby girl’s size.”
“Get out.”
His sister, however, persisted, continuing to lay on the bed, her eyes sparkling as they did when she was in one of her mischievous, teasing cycles.
“Remember the fun we had when we played house and you always wanted to be the mom?” she continued.
“Not always,” her protested.
“But you liked being the mom, I know you did.”
“I guess,” he reluctantly admitted.
*****
Fifteen minutes later, the two children were in their mother’s room, rummaging through her closet to find an outfit that might look good on Tommy. Her persistence had worn him down and he at length agreed to try on one of his mother’s outfits.
“I’m not doing this because I want to,” he lied to his sister, “but just to shut you up.”
“Thank you, Tommy,” she had said, leaping from the bed to hug him.
They both agreed that none of his sister’s clothes would fit him; his soft body was just too thick. It had been Tommy who pointed out that he was almost as tall as his mother and that both seemed to have the similarly shaped bodies, a bit chunky.
“You promise not to tell mom?” he asked, they agreed to venture into her room.
She nodded, knowing that their mother would correctly figure out that it was Tonya who likely egged her brother into the escapade. Her punishment: the month-long embargo of her cell phone. Tommy might be grounded, but he’d hardly care since he rarely had anywhere to go anyway.
“You’d look so cute in this, Tommy,” his sister said, pulling out a multi-colored blouse.
“I can’t wear that,” he protested. “That’s one of mom’s favorites.”
It was a peasant top that helped accentuate their mother’s ample breasts, exposing a bit of cleavage at the bodice. It had capped sleeves and embroidered hems. “Mom always wore that dark blue skirt with iy,” Tommy added.
“Tommy, this is perfect for you. I’ll find you a bra to wear and you’d have breasts, just like a real girl,” she added.
He reddened at the thought. As he had grown chubby when he turned ten, he had indeed developed breasts. Other kids had noticed and one girl even told him she envied him because his breasts were bigger than hers; in fact, in those years, most girls were only beginning to blossom and Tommy had observed his mammary glands may have been bigger than most of the girls in his classes at school. While his fleshy chest had become an embarrassment for him, he had also been fascinated by them and loved to play with them when he was alone, cupping them and pushing them together creating a cleavage. When he did that, he began picturing himself as a real girl.
“No bra,” he said, even as he yearned to try one on.
“You gotta, Tommy, to show off your breasts.”
“Mom’s bras are too big,” he protested.
“I know, but mom got me a training bra, and I’ve never worn it. I’ll get it.”
As he opened his mouth to object, Tonya shot out of the bedroom, returning a few moments later, holding up a pink bra, showing it to her brother.
“It won’t fit me,” he argued.
“Let’s try. Take off your shirt.”
Tommy hated to show his body to anyone; in truth, he was ashamed that he was so soft and fleshy. Most of all, he hated that his breasts would show and he’d be a laughingstock. Finally, his curiosity of how he’d look in a bra and a woman’s blouse overwhelmed his shame and he took off his shirt, even though he was afraid his sister would tease him.
To his surprise, she neither laughed or teased him. Tonya smiled and said, “Thank you, Tommy.”
“You want to try to put the bra on yourself, Tommy?” she asked.
“I don’t think I could hook it in the back. Maybe you better help.”
Tonya stood behind him, brought put his arms through the shoulder straps, drawing the bra around his chest and cupping each mound of soft flesh into the small bra cups. She hooked the bra in the back without much difficulty.
Tommy was surprised the bra fit him, thinking he was too broad around the chest to fit into a bra made for his younger sister. Apparently, his body frame was more delicate than was apparent from his chunky appearance.
“Wow, you have real girl breasts, now,” she exclaimed.
He blushed. A boy shouldn’t have “girl breasts,” as she described; yet, the thought excited him.
“Is it too tight, Tommy?”
“No, it feels OK, I guess.”
The fact was he felt great, though he wouldn’t admit it to Tonya. The bra was comfortable. He looked down to see his chest protruding and the pink softness of his two breasts pushed together into a fetching cleavage.
“You should have panties,” Tonya said.
“No, we can’t take mom’s.”
They argued briefly whether he should wear his mother’s panties, but finally Tonya conceded that it wouldn’t hurt to have him continue to wear his boy briefs. She helped Tommy step into the dark blue skirt and then slipped the peasant blouse over his head.
“Let me see how I look, Tonya,” he said.
“Not yet, not until I finish with you.”
“What are you doing now?”
“A girl has to have her hair fixed, doesn’t she? Just wait ‘til I get my hair brush.”
She was gone but a minute, returning with her hair brush, beginning to brush down his dark brown hair, which was long, reaching to his neck.
“You have such nice thick hair, Tommy, perfect for a pretty girl.”
“Quit saying that I’m a girl.”
“OK, but you’re going to be real pretty, anyway,” she giggled.
Tommy smiled.
*****
“I look just like a girl, don’t I?” Tommy asked, when Tonya finally completed her ministrations and led him to see himself in the full-length mirror in their mother’s bedroom.
“You do, Tommy,” his sister said, hugging him.
Tommy turned right and left, seeing himself as a comely, cute pre-teen girl. His chubbiness that caused him much humiliation as a boy seemed to be transformed into creating a pretty and attractive girl. His breasts had been captured in the bra, with a bit of cleavage showing above the peasant top. The skirt ending just above the knees, exposing just a bit of tantalizing thigh flesh. On his feet he wore a pair of pink flats, borrowed from his mother’s closet.
“You have a pretty face, too,” Tonya said.
He smiled at the thought. She was right; his face could easily be that of a girl’s. Tonya had done little in making him up, using a natural lip gloss, some light color to his cheeks and a few dark highlights around his eyes.
“I do, don’t I?” he asked.
Tonya smiled at her brother. “You should have a girl’s name now,” she said.
He brightened at the thought.
“How about Tammy?” she offered.
He thought about it a moment, taking time to look at himself in the mirror, viewing a cherubic young girl. Yes, she deserved a lovely, feminine name, he thought.
“No, Tammy’s too close to Tommy,” he said.
“Why not Terry?”
“Yes, maybe that’s it,” he replied, quickly adding: “No, that could be a boy’s name.”
“You’re right.”
The two rattled off various names, but none of them seemed to fit the girl in the mirror.
“I got it,” screeched his sister. “Zoey.”
“Yeah, that’s it, little sister,” he said, grabbing her into a hug.
“Yes,” she replied. “Zoey is a perfect name for my big sister.”
Tommy suddenly felt gratitude toward his little sister; she had engineered his transformation as if it was a natural process; she had not laughed at him or teased him. He wondered how she could have sensed that he had such feelings of femininity.
The two hugged, holding each other tightly.
“Thank you, Tonya. I love being your big sister.”
#####
Finding Zoey – Part 2
(Copyright 2019)
It had been an exhausting, chilly trek from Frederick Douglass Middle School for seventh grader Tommy Lundstrom, but the six-block walk through six inches of wet snow did little to dampen his enthusiasm. He was looking forward to spending the next three hours wearing a new skirt and blouse combination he had found recently at a second-hand store.
His mother would be at work until at least ten o’clock that night and, thankfully, his little sister, Tonya, was to be at her friend Melanie’s house until about eight o’clock. That meant he could safely parade about the house as a chubby, cute teenage girl named Zoey.
Five months before, on a rainy day in late August, Tommy and Tonya turned to a dress-up game to break their rainy-day boredom; it’s something they had done several times before when they were younger, with Tommy often putting on dresses and acting like a girl – an experience he had found to be both thrilling and satisfying.
On that rainy day, Tonya told him that he looked like a pretty girl when he dressed up, brushed his long dark brown hair and put on light lip gloss and moderate blush. And Tommy surprised himself when he agreed “I look just like a girl.”
The two children felt the “pretty girl” should have a feminine name and settled on Zoey after rejecting Tammy and Terry as being too closely associated with his own name. Thus, Zoey was born and she would spring out of the cocoon of boyhood several times a week when twelve-year-old Tommy was charged with watching over his eleven-year-old little sister while their mother worked as a waitress at Maurice’s, a high-class restaurant downtown.
Thus far, Tommy had kept his cross-dressing a secret from their mother. He originally began his girlish adventures by borrowing from their mother’s dresser drawers and closet, and he had always been careful to try to return the items exactly where she had left them. Several times, she complained that she couldn’t find something, only to locate it later, usually commenting, “I don’t remember putting that there. I must be losing my senses.” So far, however, she didn’t suspect anyone else getting into her clothing items.
His little sister was a willing conspirator in this deception and in fact had originally encouraged Tommy to dress up. She continued to enjoy her brother as Zoey, gleefully calling him her “big sister.” It was a role he cherished, but on this chilly January day, he wanted to spend a few hours alone, without his sister’s nagging over how what he should wear, how he should fix his hair and what kind of makeup to use. He wanted to just live for a few hours as Zoey trying on the several outfits he had purchased at nearby thrift shops with money he earned baby-sitting weekends for the two young children of Sherri Cominsky, a single mother who lived down the block.
“I’m a girl, I’m a girl,” he said aloud, looking into the mirror and finding an image that confirmed his proclamation. He was in his mother’s bedroom, since it was larger than his small room and gave him space to twirl about in the skirts. Also, it had a full-length mirror on the inside of the closet door.
The view from the mirror showed a soft, somewhat chubby girl in a plaid, schoolgirl skirt that ended just above the knee, exposing a tantalizing hint of a white, fleshy thigh. A peasant blouse with short, cupped sleeves and a digging bodice that revealed a cleavage formed by training bra that held his two breasts. Tommy had fashioned his longish brown hair with a slight bob. Yes, indeed, he was a comely girl.
“I’m Zoey Lundstrom,” he proclaimed breaking out in a broad smile. He saw a bottle of perfume on his mother’s vanity and dabbed a few drops behind each ear as he‘d seen his mother do. It was just a few drops and he thought the odor would be gone before anyone would notice. The scent made him feel more girlish.
His reverie was shattered when he heard the backdoor open and his sister’s voice, yelling, “Zoey, Zoey, where are you?”
He froze, not expecting her for several hours, and then sheer fright gripped him when he heard some giggling and another girl’s voice. It sounded like Melanie O’Connor’s voice, and Tommy certainly didn’t want to have her see him in the skirt and blouse. Even though Melanie was his sister’s age, Tommy liked her and often had played with her in the past, and he didn’t want her to discover his feminine enjoyments. No way could he change back to his boy outfit, remove his makeup and muss his hair in time to avoid Tonya and Melanie seeing him. Maybe he could hide in the closet, he thought momentarily, quickly reconsidering since his sister would likely know he’d be in his Zoey mode. She’d soon find him in the closet, and that would be even more humiliating. There was no place to hide.
“Zoey, are you in mom’s room?” he heard his sister yell, again using his girl’s name.
“Hey, Zoey, it’s Melanie. I wanna see Tonya’s big sister.”
Damn Tonya, Tommy thought. It was obvious she had already told Melanie about Zoey. “I hate you, Tonya,” he yelled back, tipping off the two girls that he was in their mother’s room.
The bedroom door opened and Tonya burst in followed by Melanie; they were all smiles. “I wanna show off my big sister,” Tonya explained, as she rushed to give Tommy what could only be construed as a sisterly hug.
“But I was only doing this for fun,” Tommy said quickly, “Just wanted to see what it felt like to wear girl’s stuff.”
“You’re cute, Zoey,” Melanie said, giving him a warm smile.
“Doesn’t Zoey look like I said she would, Mel? A real girl?”
“And so pretty, too,” her friend agreed.
Tommy angrily pushed his sister aside, screaming out “what are y’ doing here now? And what did you tell Melanie?”
In his anger, his voice rose to a high girlish pitch and he started to cry. Zoey was to be his and Tonya’s secret, and yet she told her best friend and now everyone in the world would know about him. Not only would they learn he liked to wear girl’s clothes, but that he looked like a real girl, too. Worst of all, he was embarrassed to have Melanie find out as well; he liked her and considered her to be his best friend. Now, what did she think of him?
Weakened by the imagined realization that a lifetime of humiliation awaited him, he collapsed on his mother’s bed, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Zoey, don’t cry,” Tonya pleaded, coming to his side.
“No, don’t cry. You’re so pretty and I like you as Zoey.” It was Melanie who moved to his other side, so that his body was squeezed between the two eleven-year-old girls.
Tommy’s sobbing soon subsided and he sat up on the bed, with the two girls sitting at his side. “I thought it was just our secret,” he said, looking at his sister.
“I’m sorry, Zoey, but Melanie is our best friend. She likes you,” Tonya said.
“But she’ll think I’m a sissy or something.”
“No, Zoey, I won’t. I think you and Tonya are my bestest girlfriends,” Melanie said. “You’re fun to play with.”
“But . . . but . . . I’m a boy,” he protested.
“Not now. Look in the mirror,” Melanie said, giggling.
The images of three tween girls were reflected from the mirror over Tommy and Tonya’s mother’s vanity. A tomboyish looking Tonya and a petite, delicate Melanie were sitting on either side of a chubby, cute girl with eyes made red by sobs. The girl in the middle was him, Zoey. Tommy was uncertain how to react, wondering whether he should reject the idea that he looked girlish and seek to regain his boyhood. Yet, as he looked at the image of Zoey, the girl was smiling. He liked the idea of being a girl.
“Don’t you see a girl in the middle, Zoey?” Melanie asked.
“I guess,” he said, still not willing to admit the truth.
“Come on, Zoey, you’re a girl. You’ve always been a girl,” she persisted.
Tonya agreed. “Remember how much you liked playing with Melanie’s Barbies?” she asked.
Tommy flushed, recalling the times when they were younger and he and Melanie often played together, many times ending up in her bedroom dressing and undressing her dolls. Sometimes Tonya would join them, but usually she was out rough-housing it with the boys in the neighborhood.
“I got an idea,” Tonya said, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“What?” Tommy asked, not certain that he’d be comfortable with one of his sister’s “ideas,” which often led them into trouble.
“Brett’s home now, isn’t he, Mel?” she asked her friend.
“Yeah, he is.”
“And your mom’s still at work, right?”
“What are you thinking?” Tommy asked, suspicious of his sister’s plans.
“Let’s the three of us go over to your house, Mel, and see what Brett says when he sees Zoey,” Tonya said, a little giggle following.
“What? No way,” screams Tommy.
“Why not?” Tonya argued. “We’ll say you’re my cousin from Springfield, or something. He won’t know you’re really Tommy in a skirt.”
Tommy wasn’t convinced. “No, he’ll find out. He’ll kill me,” he protested.
He and Brett had often done things together, usually centered around Brett’s fascination for airplanes and space exploration. Just a few months ago, they designed a tiny remote-controlled helicopter out of plywood, some metal parts, and a small engine they bought at a crafts and hobby store. The two boys had spent hours at it, often arguing over various engineering issues, but in the end triumphing in successfully getting it off the ground by several feet and getting it to fly about 50 yards before they lost control. It crashed, but wasn’t too badly damaged. They vowed to get it flying again, but they never worked on it much afterward. Brett got busy as he joined a junior football team, where his skill at quarterback drew the attention, and soon his interest changed from aeronautics to football. He had become a “jock,” and Tommy and Brett’s time together largely ended.
“No, he won’t, besides you look so much like a girl, he’ll never know,” Tonya continued.
“My brother wouldn’t hurt you, Zoey,” Melanie added. “He’s always liked you.”
“He won’t like me dressed as a girl. He’ll think I’m a sissy or something.”
“I bet he won’t know Zoey is Tommy,” Tonya echoed.
“Yeah, come on, let’s do it,” Melanie said.
“And, Zoey, you must remember that from now on, you’re a girl,” his sister address with a mischievous smile. “You’re a she, not a he. And don’t forget it.”
“Yes,” he nodded.
*****
Twenty minutes later, Melanie O’Connor, along with Tonya and Zoey Lundstrom, walked out the front door and headed to the O’Connor house, two houses away. Zoey tried her best to rush them along to avoid being seen by the neighbors, but the other two girls held her back, insisting on walking slowly and deliberately.
“Walk like a girl, Zoey,” Tonya said.
“How’s that?” she asked.
“I think girls take shorter steps, and maybe walk with feet straight,” Melanie suggested, demonstrating the maneuver in an exaggerated manner.
“Like this?” Zoey said, seeking to mimic Melanie.
“You got it, Zoey; now you really are a girl!” she said, giggling.
When the girls reached the O’Connor house, they couldn’t find Melanie’s brother Brett at first, searching into the boy’s bedroom, the kitchen and living-dining area. Suddenly, they heard the first beats of heavy metal music arising from the basement.
“Bet he’s in the rec room working out,” Melanie said, heading through the kitchen to the door to the basement.
“No, let’s not go down there. He won’t like it,” Zoey said, trying to hold back the other two girls.
‘Come on, Zoey,” pleaded Melanie as Tonya sister pulled her arm. Reluctantly, Zoey followed the two girls into the basement.
Before Zoey reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard Brett yell at his sister, “What are y’doin’ here? Get out.”
Zoey was two steps from the bottom and turned to go back up the stairs, before being restrained by her sister who pulled her down the remaining stairs and into the basement, where she was astounded to see Brett standing, holding a barbell with two large weights, wearing shorts and a sweat-soaked tee-shirt that had already grown tight against his expanding body. Meanwhile, the music blasted out of a boombox. The boy Zoey spied was hardly the same one she had played with just a few months earlier; she realized it had been several months since the two had spent any time together and in the interim Brett had muscled up his formerly slender body and had even seemed to grow a bit taller.
“Hi, Brett,” said Tonya, giving him a teasing look.
Brett’s scowl that had been aimed at his sister changed quickly as he spied Tonya; even though the two children were two years apart in age, they had always enjoyed playing with each other, possibly due to Tonya’s rough-housing ways.
“Oh, hi,” Brett said, now smiling.
“I just wanted you to meet Zoey,” Tonya began. “She’s my cousin, you know, from Springfield.”
“Your cousin, I didn’t know you had a cousin,” the boy said.
“We don’t see her much, but she’s pretty nice,” Tonya said.
Zoey blushed, surprised that Brett didn’t recognize the girl as Tommy, his friend. She turned her head down, trying to avoid eye contact.
“Don’t be shy,” Brett said. “I’m nice, right Tonya?”
Melanie frowned. “You’re not always nice, Brett.”
“What do you know? You’re only my little sister.”
“Brett is nice, Zoey,” Tonya interjected.
Zoey continued to look down, afraid to look at Brett for fear of being recognized as Tommy. Little did Zoey know, but her shy behavior only made her look more like a little girl.
“She’s kinda cute,” Brett said.
Zoey wanted to turn and run from the basement rec room, but something held her still. Finally, she raised her head a bit, so as to get a better look at Brett. What a marvelous body the boy had; it was something that Zoey (as Tommy) had always envied, wondering why she was soft and weak while most boys had rippling muscles. Now, dressed as Zoey, she found herself dreaming what it would be like to be held by a strong boy like Brett.
“Hi,” Zoey said, her voice low and muffled.
Brett smiled at Zoey. “What grade are you?”
“Me? Seventh.”
“Nice, just a year behind me. I’m in eighth.”
Just then, Zoey was prodded by her sister. “Talk to the boy, Zoey,” and turning to Brett, she added: “Zoey’s kinda shy Brett, but she can be lots of fun.”
“Yes, I bet,” he smiled. “Talk to me, Zoey.”
Tonya pushed her closer to the sweating boy. “Yes, talk to him, Zoey.”
“What do ya’ want me to say?” Zoey said, unsure how to proceed.
“What do ya’ like to do?” Brett asked kindly, as if to encourage the shy girl.
Zoey was perplexed. How was she to respond? Would she dare admit she liked to play with dolls? No, she was really too old for that. Maybe she could say she liked poetry, which she did. (Tommy had been writing poetry since the 4th grade; it was all flowery stuff and she never showed her efforts to anyone, not even her sister.) No, that was no good.
Finally, she thought of an answer. “I like to dress pretty.”
“Well, you are pretty. Nothing wrong with a pretty girl wanting to be pretty,” Brett replied.
Zoey could think of nothing to say, merely blushing at the compliment.
“She also likes to look at boys,” Tonya interjected mischievously.
“I do not,” Zoey protested, turning pink. She was angry with her sister; this was going too far. How could she have gotten herself roped into this situation? She was no girl; she was a boy.
“You do, too.”
“Do you like looking at me?” Brett said, seizing upon Tonya’s remark.
Zoey turned her face away from him, afraid to answer. She had always liked Brett, envying him for his strong, masculine body. And, she realized, he also had a handsome, face.
“Do you?” Brett persisted.
“You’re nice,” Zoey mumbled a reply, still refusing to look at the boy, keeping her eyes looking down to the floor.
Brett bent to see Zoey’s face and examined it closely. He smiled at first and then a puzzled look clouded his face.
“Don’t I know you, Zoey?” he asked. “It seems I’ve seen you before.”
This was awful, Zoey thought. Had he realized she was not a girl named Zoey, but Tommy, his friend.
“Well, she is our cousin,” Tonya said quickly, coming to the rescue, hoping that the boy would realize there might be a family resistance in this “cousin” from Illinois.
Brett stood upright and Zoey slowly turned her face up in order to look at him. The boy examined the girl named Zoey a bit closer. “Yes, that must be it. You look a lot like Tommy, too.”
Zoey became terrified; she wondered whether Brett had discovered the secret. She felt trapped in this basement facing a humiliation that she’d never live down: the truth that she was not a real girl. She wanted to turn and run, charging up the stairs and out of the house, but Tonya stood in the way. What was she to do?
“We have to go,” Melanie said, coming to the rescue. “We promised Zoey we’d show her the custard stand before it got too dark.”
“We did?” Tonya asked quickly. “We never planned that.”
“Yes. We did,” Melania answered quickly. “You remember we wanted to get you a custard, didn’t we Zoey?”
Zoey nodded, shaking her head vigorously in the affirmative, looking for any excuse to escape the basement and the fear of being exposed.
“How long you in town, Zoey?” the boy asked.
“I don’t . . .”
“Another week,” Tonya said, finishing Zoey’s sentence.
“No, I’m going home tomorrow morning,” Zoey protested, not wanting to give Brett a chance to see her again as a pretty girl.
Tonya shook her head and said merely, “Zoey will be around for a week, Brett.”
Brett smiled. “Really, I’d like to see her again. Maybe I could take her ice-skating or sledding after school tomorrow.”
“I’m no good on skates,” Zoey protested. “Besides, I’m supposed to leave tomorrow.”
“You are not. I forgot to tell you that your mom called and said she knew you were having fun and that you could stay another week,” Tonya said.
Zoey wanted to call her sister a liar; she always had a mischievous streak in her and now she was setting her big brother (as Zoey) up to be the girlfriend of the handsome neighborhood boy.
“How about it, Zoey?” Brett asked. “Wanna go skating or sledding?”
“She really is a pretty good skater,” Melanie said.
“Are you really, Zoey?” Brett asked.
“I guess,” Zoey answered, still keeping her head down. The truth was that ice-skating was one of the few athletic skills she had ever developed. In fact, Zoey had become a great fan of figure skating, actually dreaming of being able to duplicate the grace of many of the great girl skaters, like Tara Lipinski and Michelle Kwan.
“Let’s go tomorrow then Zoey. OK?” Brett suggested.
Zoey didn’t know how to answer; she merely turned to her sister and looked at her with pleading eyes as if to cry out, “Please help me.”
Tonya smiled back, but surprised that Zoey was replying to Brett, “We’re not sure yet what mom has planned for tomorrow, so maybe Zoey can’t go then.”
“Some other time, then?”
“We’ll talk about it, Brett,” Melanie interjected.
“Bye Brett,” said Tonya, grabbing Zoey by the arm and quickly dragging her out of the basement, with Melanie following.
Brett yelled after them, “I’ll be talking to you, Zoey.”
Zoey put on the women’s coat she had taken from her mother’s closet, feeling both scared and excited by the attention she had found in the attention she got from the handsome, strong Brett – her onetime boyhood companion. Suddenly, she found herself thinking of being a girl in arms of such a boy. (To be continued)
Finding Zoey – Part 3
Knowing their mother might soon be calling home to check on them, Zoey and Tonya said good-bye to the O’Connor household to run home. Before they could get out the door, Brett called after them: “Maybe, I can see you tomorrow then, Zoey. Can I call you? Or come over?”
The boy’s voice had an urgency to it that required a response. Zoey paused at the door, wondering how to answer.
“What d’ya say, Zoey?” he persisted.
“Ok, just call us to see if we can,” she said, turning and running out of the house.
She could hear Brett’s desperate voice as they charged out of the house.
*****
Having changed back into his boy clothes, Tommy Lundstrom tried to concentrate on his homework. He had finished the exercise in his workbook for his seventh-grade English class and was beginning to work on his math homework, a subject he hated. He began to struggle with it, as his mind wandered to the problem of how he would get out of meeting up with Brett O’Connor, the neighborhood boy who had become smitten upon seeing a cute, comely girl by the name of Zoey. Tommy, of course, was the fetching girl named Zoey. He knew Brett would be calling early the next morning to see if Zoey would be free to go ice-skating. Somehow, he had to get out of ever seeing Brett again as Zoey.
Finally, unable to focus on the mathematics problems that lay on the desk before him, Tommy got up from his desk and walked down the hall to his sister’s room.
“Can’t we do away with Zoey somehow?” he asked Tonya, having burst into her room without knocking.
His sister looked up from her desk, and angrily shouted at him, “I told you, you gotta knock, before you come in here.”
“Tonya, I’m sorry but I’m so scared about what Brett will say when he finds out that Zoey is me and you got me into this! What are we going to do?”
Tonya turned to look at him. She smiled mischievously. “Zoey’s a good ice-skater, probably better than Brett. It’ll be fun.”
“But, he’ll find me out. I know he will.”
“So what? He’s your friend. I think he’ll like Zoey better than Tommy,” Tonya said.
“Tonya,” he replied, in voice rising to a soprano high. “Be serious. How can he not know me? We’ve played together forever. Once, he realizes who Zoey is, Wow! He’ll get mad at me or he’ll laugh at me and he’ll tell all his friends on the football team and soon the whole school will know.”
After finishing his tirade, Tommy burst into tears and ran from Tonya’s room and into his own room, jumping on the bed and curling up and his crying grew louder. In a few minutes, he heard his bedroom door open, and he curled up tightly in a ball, knowing it was his sister. She crossed over to the bed and lay next to him, wrapping her arms about him. Soon, his sobbing subsided and he felt himself grow calm, as his sister hands gently caressed him.
“I think you liked being Zoey,” Tonya said after his crying stopped.
“Maybe.”
“You were really cute,” she said, hugging him tightly.
“I guess.”
“Maybe you’re really a girl inside, Zoey,” Tonya said. “Maybe you should really be a girl. I’ve heard about such boys liking to be girls.”
“No, how could I be. I pee standing up and girls don’t do that.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she agreed.
The two were silent for a while and soon Tonya released her hold on him and lifted herself off his bed.
“Did you finish your homework, Tommy?” she asked, finally returning to use his boy’s name.
“No, I still got my math to do.”
“Better get to it,” she said.
Just then, they were startled as they heard the back door open. “Migod, mom’s home from work,” Tonya exclaimed. “She’s early.”
“And she’ll be up here quickly to check on us,” Tommy said, his voice in a panic.
Before Tonya could leave his room, they heard their mother knocking on Tonya’s door, yelling, “You in there, Tonya? I’m coming in.” They heard her open the door and then an exasperated voice yell, “Tonya, where are you?”
Soon Tommy’s door opened and their mother stood at the door. “What’s going on here?”
“Nothing,” Tonya said quickly. “I was helping Tommy with his math.”
Their mother looked at both children and then entered the room. She hurried to Tommy, who was now sitting up on his bed, his face red and puffed from all the crying.
“What’s wrong, honey?” she said, coming to Tommy’s side and looking him squarely in the face. “You’ve been crying. Has your sister been teasing you again?”
“No,” he said, struggling to get his voice and then bursting into tears again.
His mother took him in her arms and help him, letting him rest his head upon her shoulder. He heard her begin to sniff.
“What’s that I smell? Is that perfume? Have you been dressing up again, Tommy?”
He didn’t answer and resumed crying, his sobs more intense.
“Tonya, has he and did you help him?” she asked sternly.
It was then, Tommy began to pour out the story about Zoey and Brett’s invitation to go ice-skating.
*****
“This is too much to fathom,” Emily Lundstrom said when her son had finished telling how he had dressed up, adopted the name of Zoey and went with Tonya to visit the O’Connor household.
She turned on Tonya, accusing her of encouraging the boy in the cross-dressing escapade, but Tommy was quick to defend his sister.
“It was all my fault, mom,” Tommy said. “I snuck into your room and Tonya caught be at it and before I knew it Melissa came and saw me. They thought I was pretty.”
“That’s right, by friend Melissa, came over and saw him dressed up, too. He was such a cute girl, mother,” Tonya echoed.
“Oh my God,” their mother exclaimed. “And then you and Melissa took him over to see Brett? Where was your good sense? Both of you?”
“Yeah, mother, here, look on my phone. I got a picture,” Tonya said, bringing a smart phone out of her jean pocket. She monkeyed with it and a less than a minute showed their mother a picture she took while Tommy was fully dressed as Zoey.
“Oh, Tommy,” was all their mother could say.
Tommy stood by, fearing his mother’s reaction. He could see she was shocked. Suddenly he was sorry and felt he had become a disappointment to his mother. He loved her so much; she had been the only one who seemed to appreciate him, even when he felt scorned by everyone else his age.
“I’m sorry, mom,” he said finally.
“Tommy, come here,” his mother beckoned.
“You want to spank me?” Tommy asked.
“No, dear. Just let me hug you.”
Tommy rushed into her arms and began soft sobbing as she held him with one arm, calling to Tonya to join them. Soon the whole family was joined in a group hug. After a few minutes, they broke up.
“Zoey, I’d like to see you all dressed up,” Emily Lundstrom said. Her tone was neutral, matter-of-fact.
“You do, mom?”
“Yes, dear. Do you like being a girl, dear?”
Tommy didn’t know how to answer and his mother looked at him with a kind expression. “That’s Ok, honey, if you like being a girl.”
“He does, mother,” Tonya said.
“I want to hear him say it, if he does.”
“Yes, mother, I like . . . ah . . . er . . . being Zoey.”
“Ok,” their mother said in a calm, warm voice. “Well, you appear to be a sweet, lovely young lady, Zoey. By the way, I love the name you chose. It’s perfect for a cute girl.”
“You like me as a girl, mother?” he asked, speaking shyly and with hesitation.
“Zoey, dear, I loved you as Tommy and I know you could grow up to be a nice man, but if you feel you should really be a girl, well, then, I guess I’ll have to love Zoey,” she said. Her voice was calm and soothing. “Now let’s see how you look when you’re all prettied up, dear. I’ll leave it up to you Tonya to make sure our little girl is all that she can be.”
With that, their mother left the room.
*****
Twenty minutes later, Zoey Lundstrom walked down the stairs, carefully taking each step to maintain his balance on the short-heeled pumps while also trying to make his mannerisms dainty and feminine.
From the bottom of the stairs, his mother smiled, watching her new daughter descend, looking stylish.
Tommy suddenly felt confused. He really was a boy, but now he felt he was a girl. It dawned on him. His mother had told him it was up to him to make his choice: continue into a man’s world or become soft and feminine and grow into a woman.
“You’d really love me as Zoey, mother?” he asked, addressing his mother as if he were a girl.
“You’re my child, dear, and you’ve always been a lovely child,” she said. “But, this is so quick, so hard to understand. You’re my son, and now I see a lovely girl. I don’t know what to say, but I’d love you either way, especially if Zoey is as nice and kind as Tommy always was.”
Tommy began to cry. Yes, he could be Zoey. Yet, he sensed a bit of hesitancy in her voice, like she was not totally pleased with his cross-dressing.
And then there was the other problem: What should Tommy do about his pending skating date with Brett?
*****
“Can Zoey wear one of my nightgowns, mommy,” Tonya asked her mother after they had been told to get themselves ready for bed. Their mother, still wearing her waitress uniform with its short beige skirt and low-cut purple top with the restaurant name, “Maurice’s” tastefully embroidered over the last breast, had poured herself a small glass of wine and was trying to relax after her long shift of work. They were in the kitchen.
Emily Lundstrom frowned at the request. “Why is that necessary, Tonya. Besides it’d be too tight on him.”
“Let her try it on anyway, mom,” Tonya said, continuing to use the female pronoun. “She’d look so cute in it.”
“Does he want to wear curlers in his hair too?” she asked sarcastically.
“Oh, mom!”
Their mother turned to Tommy who had been sitting quietly, afraid to say anything, since it had been he who had first raised the idea of wearing his sister’s gown that night. The mere thought of the silky feeling on his soft body excited him.
“It just seems that all of this is moving too fast for me,” their mother questioned.
“I’m sorry, mom,” Tommy said. “I don’t have to wear her nightie, besides I’m too big for it.”
Emily Lundstrom shook her head. “I don’t know what to do about this all?”
There was silence as the two children sat, looking at their mother. Finally, Tommy said, “Mom, I don’t know why I liked being Zoey. I’m sorry I’m not the boy you’d like to have.”
“Tommy, come over here and hug me,” Emily responded. “I love you as much as ever.”
Tommy hesitated for a moment, astonished at his mother’s warmth. He mumbled, “Really, you don’t care, mom?”
“Just come and give me a hug, darling,” she said, a welcoming smile beaming from her face.
The boy arose from the chair and surrendered himself into his mother’s arms, and she gently caressed him. “You’re a lovely young lady, my dear,” she said, releasing him from her grasp.
He was flush-faced as he returned to his chair, next to his sister Tonya. Their mother got up from the table and told the children to sit still. She went to the refrigerator and extracted a bottle of milk, placing it on the table along with two glasses.
“Let’s eat some of those caramel cookies you baked, Tommy,” she said, taking the cookie jar off the counter top and bringing it to the table.
“You’ll ruin your figure, Zoey,” his sister said.
“Now Tonya, no more teasing your brother . . . or . . . I guess . . . your sister.”
That night, Tommy slept as Zoey would. Instead of wearing his sister’s nightgown, he wore a baby doll top and fluffy panties that his mother found in her dresser. First, however, he was told to shower, using sweet-scented soap, before wearing the clothes.
He went quickly to sleep bathed in the sweet fragrance of girlhood.
*****
His digital alarm read 3:18 when he awoke, feeling an extreme pain in his groin, realizing that he must relieve himself. Still in the misty glow of femininity, he slowly arose from his bed, put on his sister’s old fluffy slippers and padded out of the room to the bathroom across the hall. A night light provided a dim light to the bathroom, enough so that he could see himself in the bathroom mirror, an image of a teen girl’s soft body in a lovely baby doll nightgown. He smiled, deciding that he should continue his charade as a girl and sit down to urinate, just as he’d seen his sister do the few times he caught a glimpse of her in the bathroom.
It was in those moments on the commode that he finally realized what faced him the next day. His adventure into being Zoey now took a fearful turn: he’d have to face Brett, his best childhood friend, as a “cute girl,” not as Tommy. In their brief encounter the previous day, Brett had failed to detect that the girl that attracted him so much was actually a boy . . . and his onetime best friend.
Returning to his bed, Tommy never did get back to sleep, worrying about what would happen when Brett would learn the truth about Zoey.
(To be continued)
Finding Zoey – Part 4
Emily Lundstrom also had trouble getting to sleep that night, her mind wandering over the revelation that her only son, Tommy, was dressing as a girl. He even seemed to enjoy being a girl and she had to admit that he indeed could look soft and feminine. In fact, he had looked downright cute.
Tommy had never been much of an athlete, and his only skill was figure skating, in which he displayed graceful moves. She recalled that she and Tommy had become avid fans of figure-skating competitions on television, while his sister had usually shunned such showings. Tonya had teased Tommy, calling his interest “weird” and saying it was only for girls to like.
“There are boy skaters, too,” she recalled that Tommy would reply.
“Yeah, that Johnny Weir guy who looks more like a girl,” was Tonya’s reply.
It was at this point when Emily would enter the argument. “Tonya, don’t belittle the sport. It takes great athleticism to be a graceful skater. And your brother’s really very good at it.”
The fact was that Tommy’s lack of strength had made the sport difficult for him, but he worked hard at it, learning to do graceful figures on the ice, in spite of his chubby body. Emily had enrolled both her children in figure skating classes at the local rink, but Tonya was soon to drop out. Tommy continued to take lessons, one of the few boys to take the sport seriously.
Emily was surprised to learn that Tommy’s favorite skater was not one of the male stars, like Brian Joubert or Brian Boitano, but he particularly gushed over Ekaterina Gordeeva and Michelle Kwan. “I’d love to skate like that,” he swooned one night watching a DVD that featured Gordeeva.
Emily recalled her own teen years when she had become perhaps one of the most accomplished figure skaters in their community, repeatedly winning youth competitions held at the municipal indoor ice rink by the City’s Department of Municipal Recreation. She had a body much like Tommy, being a bit chubby in her ‘tween years, before finally slimming down by the time she left high school to become the attractive if slightly overweight woman she was now. Her early marriage to Barry Lundstrom and quick pregnancy with Tommy had ended whatever prospects she had to pursue a career in the sport.
Rolling over restlessly in bed, Emily looked at the clock next to her bed. “Only, 12:19,” she said aloud. “It feels like I’ve been here for six hours trying to sleep.”
She got out of bed and wandered over to the small desk she had in her bedroom. She turned on the desk lamp, and was momentarily blinded before she got used to the glare. She pulled out a yellow legal pad and taking a pen drew a line down the middle, dividing the sheet into two columns. At the top of each column, she wrote either “Pro” or “Con.”
It was in Emily’s nature to think problems out by putting the issues on paper. Her ex-husband, Barry, had teased her about her penchant for being organized, but the truth was that such orderliness had served her well as a single mother in raising two children now growing into their teens. It had helped become one of the most efficient waitresses at Maurice’s, likely increasing her level of tips.
Pro
T. is not athletic
T. is gentle and sweet
T. expresses interest in being a girl
T. seems to like fashion (he has made some good suggestions on my clothes)
T. is pretty like a girlCon
T. is my only son
My ex will claim I have brain-washed T and will seek full custody
T. will be teased
I can’t afford money for medical treatment for gender changing
T. will have trouble in school
Job possibilities for T will dry up
New clothes expensive
There were more “cons” than “pros,” Emily realized. All reason pointed in the direction that she must discourage Tommy from pursuing a life as “Zoey.” It was her first reaction when her son presented himself in the dress that night; yet, she had found herself accepting him as a girl, likely because it seemed to please him so much. She had hated to ruin her son’s fantasies. Yet, she knew she should not have indicated such acceptance for the idea.
Emily had always been an open-minded woman, having completed two years of college as a “pre-med” student before meeting Barry and almost immediately becoming pregnant. The couple married and Emily quit school to go to work, while Barry completed his studies in business administration. She never went back to school, but read voraciously, turning to books on history and philosophy between her work and child-rearing chores.
At the restaurant, Emily had worked with a transgender woman. Laura was a tall girl, a bit husky but soft-looking who gave up a promising career in construction engineering when she transitioned. At Maurice’s, Laura was employed as a dishwasher, apparently the only job she could get. Emily had befriended the young woman, and even stopped off for a drink with her after work several times, at which time Laura told of the difficulties she faced as a transwoman.
“Are you sorry you made the change, Laura?” Emily had asked one night several weeks earlier as the two ordered their second drink.
“Oh no,” the woman responded quickly. “Otherwise, I’d have likely killed myself.”
Emily reflected upon that conversation as she looked at the sheet of “pros” and “cons” before her.
“Screw this,” she said, pulling the yellow sheet from the legal pad, crumpling it up and tossing it in the waste basket. She knew now how she would handle her son, who might someday become her daughter.
*****
The boy awoke to his mother’s soft voice, “Time to get up, my dear.”
Tommy stirred in bed, nestling his body more deeply under the covers, still in a fog. “But, mom, it’s Saturday.”
“No, young lady,” she said, shaking his shoulder gently. “You remember you may have a date with Brett.”
“Young lady?” his mother had said. “A date with Brett? What is this all about?
Then he felt the lace cap sleeves of the baby doll nightdress he wore and remembered. Yes, he had gone to sleep in his mother’s old baby doll nightgown dressed as Zoey, the young girl who was facing an invitation to go ice-skating with Brett – his onetime best friend.
His mother sat down next to the bed, and placed her had on his upper arm, petting it as she might an affectionate dog.
“Last night, you said you liked being Zoey, not Tommy,” she said quietly.
Suddenly, Tommy was wide-awake. He broke away from his mother’s hold and sat bolt up-right in bed as the realization came that, yes, he had told his mother he liked being Zoey. And, yes, he now faced the prospect of being a girl called Zoey and going on a “boy-girl date” with Brett.
“Do you feel the same this morning?” Emily asked her son.
“I don’t know, mommy. It’s scary.”
“That’s OK, my dear,” she replied. “Why don’t you get up, brush your teeth and come on down to breakfast. I can make your favorites, pancakes with whipped cream.”
“No, you better make it yogurt and fruit.”
“Yes, of course, a girl must watch her figure,” his mother teased.
“Mommmmmm,” he protested.
She smiled. “OK, dear. I left a robe and slippers for you on the desk chair for you.”
His mother left the room and Tommy arose from bed and checked out the robe; it was light blue and lacy. He had seen his mother wear it in the past and since he was nearly as tall as she was, he knew it would fit him. Beside the chair was a pair of fluffy slippers in a matching color. He was confused, having the feeling that his mother had approved his parading around as a young girl. Did she really want that to happen, he wondered?
He went out and down the hall to the bathroom, looking into the mirror. He scowled at the image; it truly appeared to be that of a young teen girl with unruly hair. “Girl, you’re ugly,” he said aloud. He quickly ran his fingers through his hair, giving it some form and allowing the longish tresses to flow in a more orderly fashion to his shoulders. He then put his hands under the faucet, cupping some warm water and applying the fluid to his face. He felt awake finally and then looked into the mirror, pleased to see that he no longer appeared ugly and also noticing that he truly could be a pretty girl, with a little help, of course. He smiled at the prospect.
He stripped down, careful not to look in the mirror. He hated looking at his naked body; all he ever saw was soft flesh and the breasts he had developed. He shoulders were narrow and his arms were thin and without muscular definition, while his body was fat. It did not look like the body of a boy, he felt. Maybe if he lost weight and exercised he could look like the other boys he saw and envied in his phy-ed class.
His mother had laid out shampoo and soap for him. It was sweet-smelling and smooth, definitely he was in store for a feminine shower.
*****
He took a short shower to wet himself down and then applied the sweet-smelling body wash, his hands lingering over his soft, smooth skin as he rubbed in the lotion, following that up with a shower and a shampoo. He felt light and feathery as he left the tub and dried himself off, the floral scent of the body wash and shampoo intoxicating. As he applied the towel around his upper body, he felt his breasts; they felt large in his hands and he found he could press the the two mounds of flesh together to make a cleavage. He looked into the mirror, but it was steamed up, making the image foggy and indiscernible. Was there a girl visible through the misty glass?
He put on the robe and slippers and padded down into the kitchen, surprised to see that his sister, Tonya, was already up, defying her regular Saturday routine of sleeping until past noon. She was seated at the table, eating pancakes, and was grinning as he entered.
“Hi, big sister,” she said cheerfully.
“Hi,” he said, hoping to cut off any further remarks. Tonya could be a little brat sometimes.
His mother stood at the stove, where she was about to flip another batch of pancakes. They smelled delicious.
“Mother, I thought I told you I didn’t want pancakes,” he said.
“Is the girl afraid she’ll get too fat and the boys won’t like her?” Tonya teased.
“Shut up,” he said.
His mother smiled. “Darling, just ‘cause you didn’t want pancakes doesn’t mean we can’t. I’ll get your breakfast out of the fridge.”
“You smell so pretty, Zoey,” his sister said again.
“There was only that smelly stuff for me in the bathroom,” he said, seeking to dismiss the topic.
His mother looked at him. “Well, you do smell just lovely my dear. I’m sure Brett will enjoy it.”
Tommy scowled. “Let’s hope he doesn’t call.”
“Come on, Zoey, you know you want to have a boy date,” Tonya said.
“Not.”
“Yes, you do.”
Tommy felt himself begin to blush. Part of him felt he wished Brett would not call, but another part of him felt excited over the prospect of dressing up pretty for a boy.
After Tonya had finished her pancakes, their mother asked her to leave the room. “Your brother and I need to have a little chat, and I expect you to be upstairs in your room and not listening in behind the door. You got that?”
“Why can’t I stay? She’s my older sister.”
“Just go,” Emily ordered.
With a pout, Tonya was gone; they heard her steps on the stairs.
“Now, honey,” his mother began. “How do you really feel about this?”
Tommy didn’t reply immediately; instead his mind restored the image of girl in the mirror. He liked what he saw since the girl was pretty, even if she was a bit pudgy. He recalled the breasts and how he had cupped those mounds of flesh to create a cleavage. He knew he should be ashamed of his body; after all he was a boy, wasn’t he?
“Mommy, I just . . . ah . . . ah . . . feel funny,” he said. “I look so much like I should be a girl, but I’m not.”
His mother pulled a kitchen chair next to him and put her arm about him, hugging him gently. “I know it’s confusing, honey,” she said.
“But what will all my friends say? And school?”
His mother hugged him tightly and Tommy put his face onto her bosom and began to cry. She held him close to her breasts, rocking him as if he were an infant. He burst into a full-blown cry, tears moistening her shirt. The two sat there for what seemed an eternity until he finally stopped sobbing.
He raised his head and his mother dabbed tissues to dry the tears off his face and the moisture from his eyes.
“Mother, I like being Zoey,” he said finally.
“You’re sure?”
He nodded. “Yes, mother. I’d like to see what kind of a girl I could be.”
“Starting today, if Brett asks Zoey to go skating?”
“I guess so, but I’m scared.”
“I know you are, and you don’t have to go with him,” he mother said. “You could stay right at home and we could find some pretty clothes for you to wear.”
“That would be nice,” he said, relieved at how welcoming his mother was to the idea that her only son could become her oldest daughter.
“What’ll I say if he calls, mother?”
“Do you want me to take the call and give you an excuse?” she asked.
Before they could continue their conversation, the phone rang and his mother picked it up.
“It’s for you, Zoey. Do you want to take it?”
He paused for a moment. “Yes,” he said, surprising himself.
She handed him the phone and quickly walked out of the kitchen, leaving him alone in the room to talk with Brett.
“This is Zoey,” he said, his voice tentative.
“It’s a good day for skating,” the boy said. “Wanna go?”
“I dunno,” he said, his voice soft.
“Tonya says you’re a good figure skater. Come on.”
“Not so good, and I don’t have my skating clothes here,” he said as an excuse.
“You can wear anything warm, Zoey. Borrow something from Tonya. You two look about the same size.”
“I dunno.”
“Come on. It’s going to be a nice day, sunny and in the 20s and no wind. You’ll love it.”
Tommy hesitated for a few moments, finally agreeing to the invitation.
“O.K. See ya’ about eleven o’clock then. My mom can take us,” Brett said.
Tommy hung up the phone, stunned at what he had just agreed to do.
*****
“Now we’ve got to make you into a really sweet girl,” his mother said. “This should be fun, Zoey.”
Tommy was shocked. What was going on here? Was his mother totally on board with him being a girl? It just didn’t make sense. Didn’t she realize it was going to be a disaster for him once Brett finds out the cute girl he was taking ice-skating was really Tommy?
“Mother, no. This won’t work. Why did I say yes?”
Just then Tonya bounded into the room. “Is Zoey going on a date with Brett now? Is that what I heard?”
Emily turned on her daughter, eying her sternly. “Yes, she is, my dear, and I expect you help now to turn Zoey into being a really pretty girl.”
Tonya laughed. “That won’t be hard. Look at her, she’s already a girl.”
“I am not,” Tommy protested.
“Are!”
“Not!”
“Children, that’s enough. Zoey here has made a commitment and she’s going to live up to that commitment,” she lectured. “And, you and I, Tonya, are going to help her become just the prettiest little girl in the neighborhood. OK?”
She turned to Tommy, who felt he was about to cry. “Now, Zoey, honey, you started this game by dressing up in those clothes, and you admitted to enjoying being girlish. So, let us see if you’re truly serious about this or if it’s just a little foolishness on your part.”
“Mommy, I’m so scared and confused. I’m not sure how to act.”
She smiled at him. “I think you’ll do just fine. You certainly look quite pretty now, even without being dressed up.”
“I’m jealous. Zoey’s is a prettier than me,” Tonya piped up.
Emily Lundstrom looked at her newest daughter and smiled. What she saw was a pale, smooth-skinned young girl with a round soft featured face and longish light brown hair. He had full lips and a small cute nose.
“You know, darling,” she said, addressing Zoey. “I found my old winter ice-skating outfit buried in my closet a few weeks ago. It might fit you. It was really a good one and my father spent lots of money on it.”
“Mom, maybe she could wear that training bra you bought me,” Tonya said.
“Wait,” Tommy protested. “I’m not wearing a bra.”
“Maybe you should. You got bigger boobs than me.”
Tommy blushed. His sister was right. He had developed breasts a year or so earlier when he began to gain weight and grown from a skinny kid into a somewhat chubby one.
Emily shooed her two children out of the kitchen, telling them to go into Tonya’s room and to begin dressing Tommy into undergarments. “OK. Get going you two. I’ll dig out my old outfit for you Zoey.”
When the two were gone, Emily sat down at the kitchen table and began to cry. She wondered whether she was doing the right thing in assisting her son into becoming a pretty girl named Zoey. Or, should she have resisted his apparent joy in seeing himself as a girl, stifled him, she wondered? In her discussions with her co-worker, Laura, she had learned that the act of transitioning into a young woman had likely saved her life; was she saving Zoey’s life or encouraging her into a lifetime of despair?
“Oh well, let’s give it a good try, shall we?” Emily told herself. She left the kitchen and headed into her large closet to see if she could find the old skating outfit. She was certain Zoey would look quite fetching and cute in it.
(To be continued)
Tommy’s biggest concern for this cold Saturday in January was that his longtime friend, Brett O’Connor, not discover that the cute girl named Zoey was in fact Tommy himself. In a dare from his younger sister, Tommy, had dressed so convincingly as a girl that could easily convince his playmate Brett that he was nothing other than a girl cousin named Zoey.
The thirteen-year-old Brett was so taken with the girlish appeal of Zoey that he asked her to go ice-skating on Saturday. Tommy to his own surprise had accepted the invitation to continue his charade as Zoey, fully realizing that if Brett were ever to know the truth, he would face terrible humiliation.
Yet, the excitement of being a girl stirred Tommy, made him feel wanted and accepted. It was with trepidation and eager anticipation that he stood in his bedroom wearing only a pair of light blue satin panties, fresh from a newly-purchased package of his mother’s. It turned out that he and his mother were about the same size, both about five feet, two inches tall, and with almost identical chubby bodies.
In his hands, he held a training bra, provided by his eleven-year-old sister. He wondered whether he’d fit into it, but realized that he had a muscularly undeveloped upper body, with narrow shoulders. His sister, who was already more athletic than he was, seemed to have a larger body frame.
“You need any help, Zoey,” his sister said, yelling through the closed door.
“No,” he lied. He was having trouble hooking the bra around the back, but didn’t want her to see him in his current state.
He was able to maneuver the soft mounds of flesh into the cups of the bra, but was unable to link up the hooks in the rear. He struggled hopelessly for several minutes, before succumbing to Tonya’s offer of help.
The girl entered, and stood for a minute looking at him.
“Oh, my God, what a girl!”
“Shut up and help me hook this in the back.”
She stepped around him and pulling the bra straps tight, she connected the hooks. As she did so, the bra brought support to his breasts, filling the cups with his soft flesh. “Wow, Zoey, you have lovely breasts.”
There was no mirror in his room and Tonya grabbed his arm, dragging him out of the door and into their mother’s room where there was a full-length mirror attached to the closet door. “There, look, dear Zoey. You’re a girl!” she proclaimed.
Tommy was afraid to look; he was so ashamed of his soft, weak body; yet, now, if he was a girl, it might be a body that everyone would find attractive. When he got the courage to look, he indeed saw a wide-hipped, fleshy girl, a soft belly protruding over the panty top and breasts seeming ready to burst out of the prison of the bra cups.
He had seen his mother several times in just her bras and panties and marveled at how closely his body seemed to mirror hers.
*****
“Zoey, I believe these will fit you,” his mother said as she entered his room, her arms bundled with clothes. She deposited the outfits onto his bed.
“Mother, you should have knocked. I’m not dressed,” he said.
“Zoey, I’m just your mother. It’s not like I haven’t seen you partially dressed before, and anyway, I can see how sweet you look in those undies.”
Nonetheless, Tommy was embarrassed that his mother saw him dressed only in a bra and panties, looking completely as if he were a teen girl. He had held his hands in front of his crotch to hide his smallish penis, which created a bulge in his panties that was only barely noticeable.
“These are clean Zoey, and they haven’t been worn in over fifteen years, when I was in college,” Emily Lundstrom began. “They’re meant for outdoor skating so they should be plenty warm for today. I’ll help you get dressed. Is that OK?”
“Yes, mother,” he agreed, knowing he really didn’t have much choice.
The first bit of clothing he put on was a two-piece dark blue thermal underwear set, with leggings that went to the ankles and with a highneck and long-sleeved top. “This will keep you warm, Zoey, but not hinder your movement,” she said.
He looked at himself in the mirror, clad in the tight-fitting garments, realizing how feminine his form appeared but particularly noticing the protruded nipples of his breasts and the round tummy beneath them. “I’ve got to lose weight, mother,” he said, patting his tummy.
“We both do, darling,” she said. “Maybe we two girls can diet together.”
“Mom, I’m not a girl,” he protested.
“Yet.”
The “yet’ bothered him, made him again wonder why he was following through on this charade in which he’d have to spend the day as Zoey and convince a boy whose known him most of his life that he was Zoey. It was crazy.
Next, he put on navy blue tights that felt thick and warm, topping that off with a lovely hooded lavender skater garment, that had been made especially for skating in cold, outdoor weather. The outfit had a heavily pleated skirt that went to mid-thigh. A colorful pink scarf was wrapped around his neck and his mother gave a matching lavender wool hat.
“My, you look truly fetching in that, darling,” Emily said to her son.
She called out to his sister that she could enter the room to see how her new sister looked.
“Oh, mom, she’s so pretty in that. All the other boys will be jealous of Brett to have such a cute girlfriend,” Tonya said.
“I’m not his girlfriend,” Tommy said.
“You will be once he sees you, Zoey,” his sister teased.
Tommy was getting terribly warm in the outfit, and was pleased to find that he could easily take off the heavy skater outfit by unzipping it up the front. The outfit was really a hooded coat, he realized, designed to show off a skater’s femininity.
“You better unzip it, darling. It’ll be an hour before Brett calls on you,” she said, assisting him in taking off the outfit.
“Now, let’s try these on, Zoey,” his mother said. She produced a pair of white skates.
“But mom, I got my own skates,” he argued.
“A girl can’t wear those old black skates. No, try these on.”
After trying the skates on and finding they fit perfectly, he took them off and sat down to await Brett’s arrival. Yes, for the rest of the day, he was to be Zoey Lundstrom, going out on a date, even though he was only twelve years old. His heart was pounding, so much so that he was afraid his thirteen-year-old friend would hear its rhythmical beat. He realized now that he felt girlish, and he loved it.
*****
“Mom, meet Zoey,” Brett O’Connor said, introducing the young girl to his mother. The boy had gone to the Lundstrom’s house, two doors away, to get Zoey and bring her back to his home, where his mother was waiting to drive the two children to the ice skating rink.
“My, aren’t you a sweetie,” Mary Catherine O’Connor said, examining Zoey. Mrs. O’Connor put on her puffy winter jacket and donned a tasseled wool cap.
Zoey blushed and felt relieved. She had been dreading meeting Brett’s mother, since she had known her for years as Tommy when the two boys played together in the years they were almost inseparable. Today, it was apparent, she didn’t see Tommy, only Zoey.
Zoey and Brett piled into the back seat of the O’Connor’s aging Ford Taurus, while Brett’s sister, eleven-year-old Melanie joined her mother in the front seat.
“I’ve been told you’re quite a good figure skater, dear,” Mary Catherine said as she navigated the ice-crusted streets. A recent heavy snow had been followed by a cold wave that had made it difficult to remove snow from the streets. It had been too cold for even the salt compound to melt it down.
“I took some lessons, ma’am,” Zoey said politely. She was determined to say as little as possible, in fear that her voice might betray her gender. Actually, she had little to fear, since Tommy’s voice had yet to change and still retained a child’s higher pitch.
“Brett’s just a klutz on skates,” Melanie quipped from the front seat.
“Now, Mel, don’t tease your brother,” their mother said. “You know he plays hockey.”
“But only as a goalie ‘cause he can’t skate as good as the other boys,” Melanie replied.
“I can, too,” Brett said.
Zoey felt she had to defend Brett. “I bet he’s a good skater. Being goalie is a tough job.”
“You’re right Zoey,” their mother said. “But you can probably show Brett how graceful he could really be on skates.”
“Only if he wants to,” Zoey said.
“Mom, we’re just going skating to have fun,” Brett said. “It doesn’t matter who’s the better skater.”
“Yes, Mrs. O’Connor,” Zoey agreed. Brett put a gloved hand onto Zoey’s gloved hands and the two young persons smiled at each other.
*****
Roosevelt Park was created in the early 20th Century, spurred on by the growing interest in outdoor activities made popular by President Theodore Roosevelt, who among his many environmental programs had established the National Park Service. In this Upper Midwest city, local leaders, many of them socialists took great interest in creating municipal parks and recreational locations. The Park’s outdoor skating rink was actually a plowed section of the large park’s lagoon that nestled next to a colonial building that served as the park’s public pavilion, where skaters could change into their skates in a warm place.
The changing room was a steamy place, crowded with adults and children alike. Some were either putting on skates preparing to go on the ice. Adults were fussing with a number of younger children, kneeling before them to assist in lacing up the skates. Others had completed their skating for the day and were taking off the skates, laughing loudly with their friends and talking about where they’d stop for hot chocolate later on.
Brett took Zoey’s hand and struggled to find a place on the changing benches where the two could sit together.
An adult woman, obviously a mother, struggling to assist her young son with his skates saw Brett looking for bench space. “Here, young man, we’ll scoot over so you and your girlfriend can sit together,” she said.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Brett said.
The two sat down at the open space, Zoey next to the woman’s son.
“Thank you for moving over,” Zoey said. “That was kind.”
The woman smiled, turned to her son and said. “Joshua, say ‘hi’ to the pretty lady.”
“Hi,” the boy said in a voice so low it was almost impossible to hear.
“Hi, Joshua,” Zoey said.
Zoey felt warm all over. She was being accepted completely as a girl and was surprised to feel how comforting it was. To add to his comfort, Brett had accepted him completely as a girl named Zoey.
“That’s a lovely jacket you’re wearing,” the woman said. “You look absolutely divine in it.”
Zoey blushed. “It was my mom’s. She used to be quite a good skater.”
“Well, it looks great on you, dear.”
Overhearing the conversation, Brett interjected. “Thank you, ma’am. She’s really cute in that jacket.”
The woman finished putting the skates on her son and the two got up to go onto the ice. “You two have a good skate out there. You’re a cute couple,” she said as she left.
As they glided out onto the rink, Brett held Zoey’s hand and said, “Everyone thinks we’re boyfriend-girlfriend,” Brett said. “Are we?”
Zoey looked at him. Boyfriend-girlfriend! She didn’t know how to answer.
“Maybe,” was all she could say.
*****
Zoey and Brett soon fell in step with each other as they glided about the rink. Both were better-than-average skaters, Brett having been in youth hockey and Zoey with her training in figure skating. The moved along in a counter-clockwise direction with other skaters, as was the tradition on this municipal rink. Beginning skaters and those wanting to engage in figure skating typically used the center ice for their random moves.
“People are looking at us, Zoey,” Brett said as they moved toward the far end of the rink and glided around a small island. “Are we the best skaters out here?”
Zoey smiled as she quickly dropped his hand and began skating backward, looking at him as she did so and then reaching out for him with both hands, grabbing them as the two twirled into two quick circles, all of the time moving with the flow of the other skaters.
As they completed the second twirl, a few hoots were heard from other skaters, obviously impressed by the two. Another boy skated up to Brett and hailed him, “Who’s your girlfriend, Brett?”
“Hey, Jason,” Brett said.
“What’s your name, honey?” the boy said, directing the question to Zoey, as the three continued to skate joining the other skaters.
“Go away, Jason,” Brett said, before she could answer.
“Come on, Brett,” the boy persisted.
“She’s not my girlfriend. She’s just visiting.”
“Maybe she could be my girlfriend, then,” the boy named Jason said.
“Just buzz off, Jason,” Brett said, pulling on Zoey so that they could speed up their skating and move away from the boy.
“Who’s that?” Zoey asked, even though she knew the boy was Jason Clements, a boy in her grade at Frederick Douglass.
“A nobody, he’s in my school, but a year behind. Just a pest.”
“He seemed nice,” Zoey said, purposely deceiving Brett.
“Shall we take a break?” the boy said, as they neared the pavilion.
Even though the temperature was in the low 20’s, the energetic skating the two had engaged in had warmed them up, though their legs were beginning to ache. “I could take a break,” Zoey agreed.
*****
As they padded their way on the thick rubberized mat used by skaters into the change area of the pavilion, Brett suddenly stopped. He moved from Zoey’s left, placing himself to her right, pulling her abruptly into a far corner of the room. He found a bench and the two sat with their backs to the room.
It didn’t take long for Zoey to realize that Brett was trying to hide himself from someone else in the room. She wondered whether it was Jason, but had the strange feeling it might have been somebody else.
“They sell hot chocolate here, Brett,” Zoey said, her craving for the warm liquid mounting.
“Oh,” he said, obviously not rising to the bait to treat Zoey with a cup.
Instead, Brett seemed to hunch down, lifting the hood of his jacket over his head, even though the changing area felt warm, almost stifling. Zoey was certain now that Brett was trying to avoid someone. Rather than let on that she was aware of Brett’s attempted deception, she decided to assist him by suggesting that he might help her tie up her skates a bit more securely.
Quickly, the boy knelt down on his knees before her to start monkeying with her ties.
“They look tight enough to me,” he said, looking up at Zoey.
“Well, just pretend to work on my skates, then,” she said with a wink.
Brett looked at her and smiled. It was a smile that reflected his gratitude at Zoey’s gentle acknowledgment of his quandary.
“I think she’s gone now,” Brett said after several minutes of playing with the ties of the skates, having raised his head enough to look about the large room.
She? Zoey guessed that he must have a regular girlfriend and that must have been from whom he had been hiding. Zoey felt a pang of jealousy, and immediately rejected it. Why should she be jealous? She was just masquerading as a girl and in a few hours would be back to being Tommy. “Did you wanna go back on the ice?” Zoey asked.
“Yeah, I think that person was leaving,” he said.
Brett grabbed Zoey’s hand as they ventured gingerly along the rubberized mat that led from the pavilion to the ice. They were about halfway along the mat when a voice said, “Oh, Brett, I thought you had a cold.”
Brett stopped, his grasp of Zoey’s hand was so firm that she almost fell as he pulled her to a halt.
“Oh, hi Beth,” he said. Even with the hood over Brett’s head, Zoey could see the boy’s face grow red.
Zoey recognized the girl, a tall, husky girl with a round cherubic face, as Bethany Zarconi, who was also in Zoey’s (Tommy’s) class at Frederick Douglass. She froze for a moment, hoping the girl didn’t recognize her.
“I didn’t feel too good this morning when DeDe called,” he said.
“Then who’s this,” Beth said, her voice taking on a demeaning tone.
Zoey grew comfortable. It was obvious Bethany didn’t see a resemblance between Zoey and Tommy. She knew that DeDe was Dolores Ziolkowski, also a classmate, who was also an inseparable friend with Beth.
When Brett didn’t answer, Zoey spoke, her voice taking on a cheerful note. “Hi, I’m Zoey and I’m Tonya Lundstrom’s cousin from Illinois. Just visiting. I wanted to go skating so badly that I’m afraid I begged Brett to take me, since he liked skating, too.”
“Yeah, she and my little sister nagged me to take her,” Brett said.
Beth looked skeptical. “I still think I should tell DeDe I saw you here with a girl.”
“Why? This girl doesn’t mean anything to me. Besides she’s just a kid.”
“I’m not just a kid,” Zoey protested.
“Zoey, you are only in 7th grade,” Brett said.
“OK, then, why were you holding hands?” Bethany pressed.
“To keep me from falling,” Zoey said.
Brett grabbed her hand and turned to go on the ice. “Let’s get skating, Zoey.”
“Bye Beth,” he said, leading Zoey along the mat.
“Nice meeting you,” Zoey yelled after the retreating Bethany.
As they reached the ice, Zoey acted as if she was a beginning skater, actually falling after a few phony halting steps on the ice.
“Whew,” Brett said after they had progressed onto the ice and Zoey felt it was safe to quit pretending that she was inept as a skater.
“I think we fooled her,” he said, as the pair joined the circling skaters, their hands joined.
Zoey never enjoyed ice-skating as she did that day. She felt totally natural as a girl who had a strong, good looking boyfriend, gliding around the frozen pond in total bliss. She knew that Brett considered her a cute, friendly girl.
As they rounded the far end of the lagoon, a sudden pang of fear hit her. How would she be ever able to admit to Brett that she was not what she appeared to be?
Brett O’Connor insisted on kneeling down before Zoey to remove her skates, even though she said she could do so herself.
“I want to,” the boy said. “It was really fun today. I like you.”
Oh my, Zoey thought. Was this boy wanting me to be his “girl,” even though Zoey really wasn’t a girl, but, in reality, was Tommy Lundstrom, his longtime playmate? She didn’t know what to say.
“Brett, you’re so nice,” she finally said. Zoey, in fact, was overwhelmed with the idea that she was in the eyes of everyone in the changing room at the park a most pretty young girl.
Brett struggled a bit to loosen the ties, which had picked up ice and were slowly thawing out. As he did so, his hands lightly caressed the shins of her leg, sending shivers up to Zoey’s thighs. Once outside, after removing their skates and putting on their boots, Brett turned to Zoey and said, “Let’s go to Paul’s for hot chocolate or something.”
“Isn’t your mom coming here to pick us up?” Zoey asked, seeing her breath coming out in a frozen fog in the bitter cold.
“No, I told her I’d take you to Paul’s. Is that OK?”
Zoey was horrified. Paul’s was what Wisconsinites called a “custard stand,” easily the most popular place in town for teenagers. It specialized in serving frozen custard, a smooth ice cream confection that was consumed by the tons in the Upper Midwest area. Paul’s also offered hamburgers, hot dogs and other goodies. There certainly would be classmates there who’d wonder who that “girl” was with Brett.
“Maybe we should just go home,” Zoey said, hoping to cut short this adventure as a girl.
“Come on, Zoey, please,” Brett said. “I bet you’re hungry, I know I am. Mom gave me a ten-dollar bill to treat you.”
“You don’t have to,” she said.
“Don’t you like me?”
Zoey’s concern grew. This boy was definitely developing a crush on her; how could she ever tell him that the object of his affection was none other than his friend, Tommy?
“Don’t you?” Brett persisted.
“I like you, Brett,” she said finally. “But, I feel I should go home.”
Brett looked down-hearted and Zoey finally felt the cold arctic air begin to chill her. Paul’s was only a short block away and the warmth of the place seemed to be most welcoming.
“We’ll have to walk down there anyway, ‘cause that’s where mom is picking us up.”
Seeing Brett’s disappointment, Zoey felt sorry for him. He had truly treated her to an enjoyable day of skating and she felt to turn down his invitation would be selfish on her part. Her concern about being recognized in Paul’s began to weaken; after all no one had thus far saw her as anything other than a girl named Zoey.
“I’m cold,” she said. “Let’s go to Paul’s. I could use a hot chocolate.”
*****
Just as she feared, it seemed the entire 7th Grade of Douglass Middle School was assembled within the steamy confines of Paul’s Custard De-lites. In truth, there were maybe a half dozen of her’s (Tommy’s) classmates, still too many to be assured that one of them might uncover her real identity.
Brett held her hand as he led her to what appeared to be the only empty table in the place. It was located directly in the traffic lane taken by many of the customers as they picked up their food and drink from the counters.
“We can sit here, Zoey,” Brett said. “You sit and hold the table while I get our hot chocolate, if that’s what you want?”
She nodded in the affirmative, and chose a chair that would keep her back to most of the restaurant, hoping to avoid notice. She kept her hood on, hoping to further make it difficult for anyone to see her face. Zoey kept looking down at the table, examining several crumbs that likely had been left from a previous customer. She wished Brett would hurry up with their drinks, but realized there had been a long line of customers waiting to place and get their orders. She merely kept her face down, merely mumbling that the seats at her table were all taken when several customers stopped by looking for a place to sit in the crowded custard stand. While she waited, her mind considered the quandary of how and when to tell Brett that she was not what she appeared to be. There didn’t appear to be any time when they’d be alone, and then she feared that her confession might cause Brett to get mad and become violent, perhaps even beating her up.
“Hey, Zoey, here I am, finally,” Brett said, placing a steamy hot chocolate in front of her, accompanied by two large sugar cookies.
Zoey looked up to, not only seeing Brett sitting down in the chair next to her, but two other kids, a boy whom she recognized as Jose Gomez, a boy in many of her classes at Douglass, and a girl about the same age that she didn’t know. They tookd the two other chairs at the table.
“I hope you don’t mind, Zoey, but Jose and his girlfriend, Maria, couldn’t find a place to sit so I said we had two extra places at our table,” Brett hurriedly explained.
Zoey kept her head down and mumbled a “hi.” She didn’t dare look at Jose, since she was certain he’d recognize her as Tommy; the two had shared numerous classes together and Jose was one of the few boys that Tommy ever spent time with. In fact, he had liked Jose, who in spite of his popularity and athletic skills, had been friendly with the more awkward Tommy.
“Why so shy, Zoey?” Brett asked. “She certainly wasn’t shy on the ice today, Jose. You should see her skate. Really hot. I could hardly keep up with her.”
“You must really be good,” Jose said, smiling. “I’m on Brett’s Youth Hockey team.”
“Take off that hood, Zoey,” Brett commanded. “You can’t still be cold. It’s boiling in here.”
Zoey continued to look down and when she didn’t remove the hood, Brett reached over a took it off her head. He also removed her wool cap, exposing her hair and face.
She looked up, first toward Jose, whose face quickly got a confused look, and then toward Maria, a dark-complexioned girl with a round, cute face. Realizing that Jose may have found something familiar in Zoey’s face, she turned her attention to Maria.
“Where do you got to school?” she asked, when she couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Aquinas. I’m in 7th,” the girl said.
“Where’s Aquinas?” Zoey asked. “I’m not from here.”
“It’s not far from here,” Maria said. “I know Jose from my church. Where’s you from?”
Zoey replied that she was a cousin of Tommy and Tonya Lundstrom, visiting from Illinois.
“Zoey’s really good figure skater,” Brett interjected.
“Really?” Jose said, his interest in the pretty girl increasing.
“Well, I took lot of lessons,” she said. “They have a really good skating program in my town.”
“You should take it up professionally, Zoey,” Brett said.
The conversation paused as the four began to drink their confections. All the time, Zoey noticed Jose looking at her, as if to examine her. increasing her worry about being recognized.
“You look so familiar, Zoey,” Jose said.
Zoey was silent for a moment, not knowing what to say.
“Well, she is a cousin of Tommy and Tonya,” Brett volunteered. “Of course, there’d be some resemblance.”
“Of course, that’s it,” the boy agreed.
Brett turned to Zoey and looked closely at Zoey, his face showing puzzlement. “Yeah, Zoey, you look so much like your cousin Tommy.”
Zoey reddened for a moment, fearful she’d been outed. “Yeah, since Tommy and I are the same age, people often wondered if we were twins,” she said.
Brett laughed. “Well, anyway, you’re prettier than Tommy.”
Soon, the two boys were talking about their youth hockey team’s upcoming game, taking their attention away from the two girls. Zoey and Maria sat quietly for a few minutes, becoming bored with all the sports talk.
“Jose likes hockey so much,” Maria said, leaning over to Zoey.
“So does Brett?” Zoey said.
“I don’t like it too much. How about you?”
“Me neither. It’s too rough. But I love figure skating.”
“That’s a cute outfit you go on. Where’d you get it?”
Zoey smiled, telling it was her mother’s and that her mother had been a good figure skater when she was younger.
“My mom won’t let me put on lipstick, yet,” Maria said, “But I sometimes put makeup on over at my girlfriend’s house.”
“I know. My mom says I gotta be 15 before I get makeup on, except for special family outings, like church,” Zoey agreed, feeling comfortable in engaging in girl talk. She found it easy to create fictions in which she was living a girl’s life.
“My mom won’t let me date. Says I’m too young. She doesn’t know I’m here with Jose. But your mom’s letting you date? Right?”
“Not really, but my mom’s not here. She’s in Illinois and she doesn’t really know about my skating with Brett,” Zoey said, embellishing the false story she was telling about herself. “We’re not really on a date, anyway.”
“He seems to like you.”
“Maybe, but tomorrow I’m back to Illinois.”
“Too bad for Brett that you’ll be gone. He seems to be treating you like his girl.”
“Nah, he’s already got a girlfriend, I learned.”
“I know Dede’s hot for him,” Maria said “But I don’t know if he really likes her that much. Besides you’re prettier.”
Zoey blushed. She loved the attention she was getting and to be told that she was “pretty” and “prettier” than some other girl was mind-blowing. How wonderful it was to be a girl, so much better than the drab life than she led as Tommy. Yet, she knew her time as Zoey must soon end.
The two girls continued their chattering, Zoey growing pleased with the easy friendship she was making with Maria. They talked about the classes they took in school, Zoey being careful to fictionalize her own experiences as being based in an Illinois middle school. They giggled over an outfit that an overly made-up mid-teen wore as she walked by their table. They found a mutual enjoyment of American Girl dolls, Zoey remembering the joy she had in playing with the one American Girl doll that her younger sister Tonya had.
“Darn,” Brett said, interrupting the conversation. “Mom’s here. We gotta go, Zoey.”
The four said good bye to each other and as Zoey and Brett turned to leave, Maria grabbed Zoey’s arm, stopping her. “This has been fun. Too bad you’re leaving tomorrow, Zoey.”
“I know. Nice meeting you.”
“Can I have your email address? Maybe we can chat sometime.”
Zoey felt a moment of fear; how could she give the girl her email address? It was [email protected], and would obviously give away her true gender.
“I don’t remember it,” she said, probing her mind for a good reason why she wouldn’t know her own email address.
Brett looked in surprise. “How can you not know your own email address?”
“Well . . . ah . . . our computers got hacked at home. My dad’s setting up new addresses for all of us,” Zoey said, happy that she could come up with a story that might be believed.
“Wow, that’s too bad, Zoey,” Maria said. “Let me give you mine and then when you get your new address you can email it.”
“I can write it down for you, Zoey,” Jose said, finding a stub of a pencil in his pocket. He reached for a napkin, wrote down the address on a napkin and handed it to Zoey.
She looked at the address and said, “Hmmm! [email protected]. Your address fits you perfectly, Maria.”
“Zoey, maybe your new address could be [email protected],” Brett volunteered.
“Yeah, that would be perfect for you, Zoey,” echoed Jose.
Zoey knew she should be pleased with the praises she was getting; instead, she was overcome with the fact that she had created a pretty teen girl that didn’t exist. She had told so many lies about herself that she’d never be able to explain, fooling a boy who had long been a friend. Her mother had told her that she must tell Brett the truth, and she realized her mother was correct. The question was how and when could she break the truth to Brett.
“Come on Zoey, mom’s waiting,” Brett said, taking her by the arm. The boy had obviously been taken with Zoey, and escorted her carefully through the crowded restaurant, acting like a young gentleman with his pretty date. He even insisted on carrying her skates along with his.
Brett helped her in entering the O’Connor SUV, as a gentleman should do, saying “Hi, mom.”
“You two have a good time?” Mrs. O’Connor asked.
“The best, mom.”
“It was great, Mrs. O’Connor,” Zoey said.
“She’s such a good skater, mom.”
As the car left the restaurant parking lot, Zoey pondered when she could find time to be alone with Brett in order to tell the truth and expose herself as Tommy in a girl’s outfit. She was fearful that there would be no such opportunity before they got dropped off, she at the Lundstrom house and he at his own place.
“By the way, Zoey, your cousin Tonya is over at our house with Melanie and I thought you’d like to join them for pizza. I was going to order out.”
“OK, Mrs. O’Connor,” she said, finally coming up with an idea as to how to reveal her true identity.
*****
After they entered the O’Connor home, Brett left the three girls in the living room to go to his room and change out of his skating outfit and Mrs. O’Connor moved into the kitchen. Zoey gathered Melanie and Tonya and said in a low voice, “Look, you gotta help me tell Brett that this Zoey thing was all a lie.”
“Why us?” Tonya argued. “You did it and I knew you wanted to do it.”
“But you talked me into it.”
“You loved it, Zoey,” her sister said.
“But we egged him on,” Melanie argued.
“Help me, Tonya,” she pleaded.
“Maybe, but it’ll cost you,” Tonya replied.
“Don’t be so mean,” Melanie said to her friend.
“We’ll see.”
“Please.” Zoey began to cry.
They three heard steps on the stairs as Brett bounded into the room, wearing tight jeans and a red sweatshirt, emblazoned with the stark serif lettering “WISCONSIN.”
“Why you crying Zoey?” he asked. “Didn’t we have fun?”
“Yes, Brett, we did,” she replied, stifling the tears.
“Here, wipe your tears,” the boy said, reaching for a tissue from a nearby box and handing it to her. His attention to the needs of the crying girl were moving.
“Brett, we have to tell you something,” Melanie said. “And we don’t want you to get mad, brother.”
Zoey looked at the girl, pleased that she was taking the lead in exposing him, but worried about Brett’s response. He was a strong boy and if he became angered might lash out and hurt Zoey for her deception.
“Brett,” Zoey said, her voice faltering. “I’m not who you think I am.”
Brett look confused for a moment, and before Zoey could say anything further. He blurted out,
“Oh no! You’re Tommy, aren’t you?”
Zoey nodded.
“But, how could you? You’re . . . oh my . . . you’re so . . . ah . . . a girl.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“I don’t know. You lied to me. You fooled me. But, really, you’re such a girl.”
“Don’t get mad at Zoey . . . I mean . . . Tommy,” Melanie said. “This all started as a dare when we caught Tommy dressing in his mom’s clothes and saw how pretty he looked. We forced him to dress up totally since we said he looked like a real girl.”
“Yeah, we wanted to see if we were right, that you’d think Tommy was a girl,” Tonya said. “It was all a joke.”
Zoey stood be silently, worrying about what would happen after the revelation. She also wondered why Brett finally saw through the disguise.
“I didn’t suspect anything until Jose mentioned the similarity between Zoey and Tommy, but that seemed OK at first,” Brett said.
“I’m sorry, Brett,” Zoey said.
“Do you like being a girl, Tommy?”
“Kinda. It was fun today.”
“Well, I like you as a girl,” the boy said, smiling.
Mrs. O’Connor poked her head into the living room and yelled, “Pizza’s ready, boys and girls.”
Brett reach over and took Zoey’s hand to lead her into the kitchen. He pulled a chair and politely held it for her as she said down, doing so in a dainty, feminine fashion.