The first thing Mum said was that solidarity means unity and that I should stand by and support my friend.
“You may not be petticoated like Peter is,
but that’s no reason why you can’t put yourself out for once.”
was the second thing she said,
and third and finally she asked me how I’d feel if my best friend snubbed me on my birthday.
“I’m not snubbing him, Mum,” I whined.
“I just don’t think he wants me to go and I don’t really want to go either.”
Mum gave me one of those looks.
“Well, I’m disappointed in you John.
I thought you were a better friend than that.” she said.
The following day at school,
Peter asked me if I’d asked my Mum if I could attend his party.
Reluctantly I said I had.
“And?” he asked.
“Are you coming?”
I shrugged and said, “I dunno.”
I explained that I have a feeling he’d rather I didn’t go,
“Considering how things are for you at home…
maybe you’d rather your schoolmates didn’t go there.” I told him.
He rephrased the question and asked if I ‘wanted’ to go.
“I would if you didn’t have to wear a dress,” I replied.
“But my Mum’s telling me that I should wear one too,” I added with great reluctance.
“Well in that case…
if I were you I wouldn’t go.” Peter said
. “Dresses are horrible…
no one should have to wear them, not even girls.”
I couldn’t help but agree with him
since so many girls spent most of their time wearing boyish clothes, he’s probably right.
“Thing is.”
I began…
with a trembling voice, I told him that my mother had said that if I refuse to go,
then she’s no option but to consider petticoating me.
“How long for?” Peter asked.
“I dunno I didn’t ask,” I replied.
“How long have you been petticoated for?”
Peter gulped and said, “Since I was eight.”
“EIGHT!” I almost yelped.
I quickly deducted eight from his current age of twelve and said.
“That’s four years!”
“It’ll be five years next Tuesday.” he confessed.
“It started on my eighth birthday.”
“Blimey.” I couldn’t imagine how he must feel having spent five long years wearing nothing but girl’s clothes.
“So the only time you can wear boy’s clothes is at school?” I asked.
Peter nodded. I gulped and spent a few seconds weighing up my options.
“I guess I’d rather wear one for your party than risk having to wear one all the time.”
That evening, my mother asked me if I’d made my mind up about Peter’s party.
With great reluctance I told her I’d go and that I’d wear a dress if I have to.
A broad grin swept my mother’s face.
She told me that it can’t have been an easy choice to make and said she was proud of me for taking the not-so-easy option.
“Well, I’d rather wear one for just one day than have to wear one every day like Peter does,” I replied.
“So you have taken the easy option?”
“Well… I’d hardly call it easy… but it seems easier.”
