Chapter 4: 4. Ponytail

We all came out of the stalls at once, like a routine in some musical. More laughter. Another bell rang, but we were all standing in front of the mirrors, checking cellphones or combing or brushing our hair. I used my fingers, trying to fit in, nervous that we were going to be late getting to class. They didn’t seem concerned.

“Where’s your purse?” one of them asked.

“In my backpack,” I lied, pointing to it on the shelf above the sinks. Without another word, she handed me a big-toothed pink comb.

“What’s your name?” She asked. “Mine’s Pippa.”

“Gary,” I supplied before I could consider that.

“Anyone have a bra in their backpack to loan Carrie?” she asked the other girls. I heard the K-sound instead of the G and cringed. Oops. Was I getting in deeper every minute?

Sure enough, one said, “I do. It’s a t-shirt bra, so it will be perfect.”

“Well, bring it here, Janelle!”

The item was produced, and I traded the comb for the pink bit of cloth. Pink, of course. I went into a stall to take off my damp shirt and put on the bra, which was the stretchy kind that you just pull over your head like a t-shirt. Sis often wore them around the house. I put the damp shirt back on, too. What choice did I have? Oddly, the bra pressing lightly on my what-are-you-doing-on-a-boy breasts felt kind of good.

I left the stall and paused in front of the mirrors again, brushing hair out of my face, and adjusting my glasses. “You can see the color of the bra right through the shirt,” I complained. “My street cred will be shot all to hell.”

That got another laugh. “At least you won’t be advertising,” said Janelle. “You can bring the bra back to me on Monday.”

The third girl, apparently called ‘Emma K’ to distinguish her from all the other Emmas in class, had a red scrunchy, and my unruly light brown hair, curling in the damp, was soon tamed in a high ponytail.

“You need to get this mop styled, girl,” she mentioned. “Cause that’s the last of your ‘cred’ as a boy.”

I rolled my eyes and said, “Thanks!” with mock sarcasm.

“You need new glasses, too,” said Pippa. “Those heavy wire rims keep falling off your face.”

I was just being accepted as one of the girls, even in the girls’ bathroom. Even extending to things like loaning bras and getting fashion advice. I wondered what would happen if I asked someone for a Tampon.

I finally made it to class, and no one seemed to even notice that I was five minutes late. The teacher and several of the other students smiled at me, and I sort of…waved back. I don’t know why I did that, just like I didn’t know why they were smiling at me. Weird.

*

I went to both of my afternoon classes, taking tests in science and math and probably flunking them because I was so totally distracted. I could feel the bra I was wearing, the straps across my shoulders. I knew the pink color showed through, and if anyone really looked, they’d know I was wearing a bra. And my ponytail bounced whenever I moved my head. No one said anything or looked at me oddly. Was a bra and a scrunchie all it took to destroy my identity as a boy?

And I had another thought distracting me. Was Milo going to like the way I looked? Waves of anxiety about that made me gasp as if I were running out of air. I held it together somehow. Why did it matter to me? Was I really going to go meet him later?

We got out of class at 2:45, and most everyone headed toward the bus stand. I never rode the school bus unless it was raining hard cause it just wasn’t that far to my house, but I did go by the bus stop on my way home. Somebody called, “Carrie!” from the crowd loading, and I turned because that was almost my name. It was Pippa, waving at me.

I waved back. People were looking at me, smiling. I smiled back and waved harder, feeling pretty idiotic, but now some of the guys were grinning at me. Pippa shouted something, but she had gotten on the bus before I deciphered her meaning. What she said was, “Dump him if he scares you, then run like hell.”

She must have meant Milo. Probably good advice. I wondered if I was going to take it.

*

I needed to go home to get some of my money to go shopping with. Though Mom and Jenny were probably still there and might cause a problem. And, too, I needed to change clothes, since I was still wearing the borrowed bra under my t-shirt. At least I was mostly dry now and not flashing my nipples at everyone, and the color probably didn’t show through as much.

Could I get in the house without anyone noticing? Those two weren’t the most observant types but still. They’d both be working tonight because Friday tips were often the best of the week, as good as Saturday most times. Which meant that at 3 pm, they were probably both still at home. But it wasn’t like I didn’t deal with them all the time, anyway.

The air felt dense and heavy with the heat and humidity. It was eight blocks home, about half a mile, so I had some time to think. I did want a cellphone to replace the one that got stolen, and I felt almost naked without a phone.

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Walmart was closer and probably cheaper, but Target sometimes had better stuff, and it was closer to the restaurant Milo had named. At either place, a prepaid Samsung smartphone would probably cost less than $100. Maybe less than fifty if I didn’t insist on Samsung.

Then…I might shop for something pretty. I might. My mind was really divided on that. What did Milo want? Did he want me to show up in a dress? Fuck that. Though I was already wearing a bra, and a ponytail. I’d forgotten the ponytail until it brushed my neck, bouncing when I hopped up a tall curb.

I gasped, trying to breathe out, but it wasn’t happening. I turned into the open gateway at the mobile home park and tried to hurry without hurrying. Maybe I should have ridden the bus. The walk in this heat seemed to have triggered an asthma attack. Or maybe it was stress and anxiety, or both. My breath made roaring noises in my head and almost squeaked when I breathed out. I had a rescue inhaler in the butter keeper in the fridge. I hadn’t had to use one in months, but I needed it now.

We were in Space 37 at the back of the second row. I trudged that direction, struggling to do the breathing routine a social worker had taught me.

“In-2-3-4, Hold-2-3-4-5, Out-2-3-4-5-6.” I counted silently. The Out part was always hardest, but sometimes my breath would hang on the In part, and I would feel like my lungs were being crushed as I tried to Hold for five.

Had to grab at my glasses for about the fifth time as I climbed the steps to our porch. They kept slipping down my nose. I could hear the A/C running inside, miracle of miracles. One of Mom’s regulars was an HVAC guy, and he must have come by to fix it as had been promised. When I opened the door, the cool inside hit me like a spring waterfall, and I coughed from the sudden change in temperature. Already I could breathe better.

I dropped my backpack just inside the door as my nipples reacted to the chill. That was intense, but I needed that inhaler and hurried through to the kitchen. Two puffs and the weight of the sandbags sitting on my chest disappeared. I glanced down, the pointy nipples were visible even thru the bra and t-shirt I was wearing.

Jenny was sitting right where I’d left here at the kitchen table. She looked bored even though she was watching some video on her phone. She smiled when she looked at me and commented, “This weather is no damn good for you, is it, Garry-Larry?”

I shook my head. She was dressed in hot pants and a top that didn’t cover her middle, her hair floofed up so the blonde streaks showed. I guessed that was what she would be wearing to work, but she wouldn’t leave until nearly five unless she had a reason to stop somewhere.

She squinted up at me. “You’re looking exceptionally cute today,” she said. “The ponytail is really you.” She snorted her amusement. “Kinda girly-girl. Is that what you’re going for?”

I’d forgotten the ponytail. “One of the girls at school put my hair up this way.” I started to reach for the scrunchie.

“Leave it,” she advised. “It looks good on you.” She went back to watching her video, which appeared to be of cats playing soccer. She hadn’t noticed the pink bra that was probably still visible through my white t-shit.

“Uh,” I stammered. “Don’t you think it makes me look like a girl?” Did I want her to notice!?

“Newsflash, kiddo, you look like a girl with or without the ponytail,” she snorted. “What do your boyfriends say about how you look?”

“I-uh-I-uh,” I had no idea how to reply to that.

She half-turned around and grinned at me. “Don’t tell me the boys at school haven’t noticed your looks.”

I could feel myself turning red. Elvis seemed to have assumed I was a girl.

“You oughta wear a bit of makeup, honey,” she said. “You’ve just got killer looks that are wasted trying to pass yourself off as a boy."

I didn’t know what to do, so I made a dash to my room, hearing her laughter behind me. She called after me. “I’ve got some stuff you could probably wear!”

I closed my door and moved the little chest I used as a door lock, so no one could burst in on me.

Jenny was acting weird, and now I heard her going into her room. “I know I’ve got something you could wear that would just knock Milo out of his tree.” She laughed. “That’s right, he called and told me he was taking you to dinner tonight and that he wanted you to wear something nice, cause you’re the prettiest girl in the family. Ha!”

She continued. “I told him that it was okay if he took you out, since I’m working tonight.” She grinned. “You little tart! Stealing one of my boyfriends!”

“I’m not!” I protested through the door. I remembered Jenny and Mom talking about co-workers they suspected of trying to steal their “dates.” And the violent things they would do to them. I never heard of more than threats, but who wants to even be threatened?

“It’s okay,” she sounded like she had gone across the hall into her room. “There’s enough of him to share.” Noises like drawers being pulled open followed her giggles. “He’s loaded too. And generous. Found them!” The last sounded triumphant.

“He...he…,” I almost told her about the $400 Milo had already given me. I glanced at my hiding place and realized that if Jenny knew the money existed, she would surely find it.

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