Contest and Consequences

by Sarah Bayen

Part One

Qualification

  

The day of reckoning had arrived. I woke, and washed and dressed before breakfast. It felt strange to be putting on knickers and tights in my own home, used though I was to wearing them by now. At every second, I imagined my Mum or Dad would burst into the bedroom, and see me in my shame. They did not, however, and I swiftly covered my embarrassment with my jeans. Being the school festival, I would not ordinarily have to have worn school uniform; because of the contest, however, I would, and girl's school uniform at that.

I had my breakfast, and walked down to the station to catch the train. The girls were in the usual carriage, and Anita and Nikki looked particularly pleased to see me that morning. Anita was carrying a large bag, which I knew must contain the uniform, and up on the luggage rack was the ominous grey bag, which contained the peach coloured dress.

"Have you," Anita said, and then hesitated. One or two of the girls in the carriage were not privy to my predicament. "Done what we suggested yesterday?"

I knew she meant put on the knickers and tights. "Yes," I said softly, and she beamed at me in delight. I felt myself blushing, feeling the girls' clothes against my skin. I looked around. It was ironic that in a carriage with six other girls, I was the only one who was wearing tights. They had all elected to wear jeans on that day, which made me feel even more ashamed of myself.

We got to school without incident, and proceeded immediately to the hall, where the first round of the contest was to be held. It had been filled with chairs as it normally was for plays and other major events. The stage had been set up with a large desk, with the word 'Judges' draped across its front off to one side, and a large empty space over to the right as I looked at it.

In the centre of the room was a desk where Liz sat, looking cramped in a small school chair, ticking names off a list as a queue of people formed in front of her. Anita, Nikki and I joined the queue, which was made up mainly of sheepish looking boys and delighted looking girls registering for the contest.

Eventually we hit the front of the queue. "Oh yes, Steve!" said Liz, looking at me and smiling. "I'm glad you made it. Good, let's see, you're," she hesitated, reading down the list. "Ah yes. Sarah Sweetheart. Excellent. You can get changed in the room over there," she indicated one of the cloakrooms which led off the hall. "And good luck Sarah" She winked at me as she said this, and I blushed again.

We walked through into the cloakroom, which was a hubbub of activity. At least ten boys were in there, in various stages of undress. Two or three were having make up applied, and one, already, had a rather unrealistic yellow wig on. I felt vaguely and strangely superior.

Anita took my arm, and led me over to a relatively empty corner of the room. She put her bag down. Nikki hung the dress up on one of the spare hangers, and Anita unzipped the bag. I noticed dolefully that it was the same one she had brought along that Monday, the last time I had kissed her.

She took out the school skirt. "Here you go then!" she said, handing it to me and smiling. "You'd best get that on first."

I looked around. No one else was in a skirt yet, and it might seem strange for me to put one on first. Still, I reasoned, all the boys in here would be wearing one soon enough. I took off my trainers and immediately realised that anyone looking at my toes would realise I was wearing tights, and had been under my trousers. If I removed my trousers, as was the plan, this would be even more evident.

I looked pleadingly at Anita, but she just folded her arms, looking impatient. I looked around again. No one seemed to paying all that much attention, so I decided to risk exposing my shame. I slipped the skirt up my legs, and without thinking, did it up at the back. Jolting myself again, I realised that this show of skirt wearing expertise was not conducive to my reputation either. Nervously glancing around, I saw that no one had paid me the least attention.

Turning my back to the wall, I undid, and then removed my trousers. This was the key moment. Anyone looking would immediately realise that I had travelled to school in tights. I grimaced to myself, and turned around. Again, everyone was engrossed in their own transformations rather than mine.

Anita smiled by way of encouragement, and then, rather surreptitiously handed me the slip. I snatched it off her as quickly as I could, and stepped into it. At this point I noticed two or three of the other girls in the room looking over.

"Oh look!" one of them said. "He's wearing a slip! That's a good idea, why didn't we think of that?"

Immediately several other eyes turned in my direction, before I could pull the slip up under my skirt and out of sight. The boys stared in wide-eyed amazement, while the girls murmured approvingly at Anita's choice. I had by now turned scarlet, and noticed that at least one girl was leaving the room immediately stating her intention of securing a slip for her victim.

Tania and Lawrence walked through the door as she left, and Nikki beckoned them over to us. I was shocked to see that Lawrence was already fully dressed as Lucy.

"Oh did you come into school like that?" asked Anita.

"Yes," he replied brightly. "My Mum gave us a lift so I wouldn't have to go on the train. He seemed quite pleased with the arrangement, as indeed did Tania.

"Maxine helped me get him ready this morning before she went to work," she explained. Anita nodded in reply, and looking across, I saw that Nikki had got out her make up bag, ready to go to work on me.

Resigned, I sat myself down, and allowed Nikki to work her magic on me. On went the foundation and the blusher; the eyeliner, eye shadow and first coat of mascara. After that my lips were put in order with lip liner, lipstick and lip-gloss. Last but no least she returned to put a second coat on my eyelashes, which became stuck together with the burden of mascara they were carrying.

I was then instructed to remove my jumper and T-shirt. Anita handed me the bra, but remembering to avoid looking too much of an expert, I asked her to do it up for me. She seemed a little surprised, but did as I asked. She and Nikki then fell on me to pad it out properly, taking much greater care than ever before to shape my breasts effectively. It was some considerable time before they had finished, but once they had, I put on the fluffy blue jumper I loved so much on Anita.

I looked down at myself, and was quite pleased with the result. I had small, but quite well formed boobs now. For some reason I had a fear that Anita or Nikki would have wanted to increase me by a cup size or two for the contest.

A girl I did not know came over to us. "My God," she exclaimed, looking at me. "They look realistic!"
"Thanks," said Anita. "It's only some old socks stuffed into a bra, but it looks all right doesn't it?"

"More than all right!" the girl agreed. "And his make up is brilliant too. I couldn't get mine," she indicated a boy two or three spaces off to the left, "to take it seriously enough."

We all looked over at her companion. He wore only the barest amount of make up, with a mop as a wig and no tights under his rather too short skirt. Anita looked at the girl in sympathy, and she went back to her friend to see what improvements she might make.

Next Anita produced my wig, and carefully placed it on my head. She then spent what seemed an age brushing it through and through. One or two other contestants and their helpers came in from time to time, and, although I was looking out for them, I didn't see Chrissie or Peter. I wondered for a moment if her failure to get either Lawrence or myself to pull out had put her off; it seemed unlikely, but she was definitely not in the room.

Anita was still fussing with my hair when Miss Underwood, one of the judges, and the girl's sports teacher came in. She was slim, and fairly short, and dressed in a white sleeveless T-shirt and tracksuit bottom.

"Wow, what a bevy of lovelies," she exclaimed in her American accent as she entered. Miss Underwood was on some sort of exchange programme for teachers, and had been at the school for about a year. "Now listen up," she shouted, clapping her hands together in a business like way, "I'm just here to tell you what's going to happen when the contest starts."

We all started paying attention, and, other than the odd flurry of make up still being applied here and there around the room, she had our attention.

"You're all going to get called in one by one by your contest names," she explained. "All you have to do is walk out this door," she signalled it behind her, "Up to the stage, and then take your place there. Is that simple enough for you?"

There was a general murmur of agreement that we had understood.

"When you go through this door, I'll be giving you one of these to hold." She held up a little plastic disk with a number on it. "That we us judges can keep a track on you girls, and make sure we give you all the marks you earn for yourselves. Is that okay?"

There was a general murmur of okays and similar grunts of understanding, and with that she left.

Finally Anita finished with my hair, tying it back into two bunches with hair ribbons like she had done on Saturday. I preferred to have it hanging loose; I was more used to it that way by now, but she insisted that it looked sweeter that way, and I wasn't prepared to argue.

"It looks beautiful," enthused Lawrence. I scowled at him by way of response.

Anita and Nikki began to work on my jewellery next. Earrings, finger rings, and bangles, and last but not least my precious 'Sarah' necklace. Anita fastened it on for me, and smiled at me as she slipped it around my neck.

"There you go!" she beamed. "Sarah again!" I wanted to kiss her again, but she didn't stay close enough, and in any case, I knew she would never have allowed it with the others there. I felt a bit miserable; it had been three days since I had kissed her now, in spite of being dressed as Sarah every day. It seemed that entering this contest hadn't been quite the ticket to her heart that I had at one stage hoped.

Miss Underwood came in again, and walked around the room, offering comments, and generally checking that everything was all right with us all. I slipped my boots on, and looking around could see about twenty contestants here. So much for the forty or so that Nikki had promised, I thought to myself; and there was still no sign of Chrissie.

Miss Underwood came at length to us. "Hi there," she said brightly. "Everything okay and ready?"

"Yes Miss Underwood," Anita replied.

The American looked at me carefully, and smiled. "Well honey you're a beauty and no mistake; still, not surprising when you've got four helpers I suppose."

We all looked confused for a moment. "No, only two," Anita explained. "Me and Nikki here."

Miss Underwood looked confused for a moment, and then held her hand up to her mouth. "Oh my God! I'm so sorry," she spouted, her eyes gazing widely and the long blonde haired Lawrence standing beside me. "I thought you were a girl! A real one that is; I'm so sorry, I should have realised by the uniform of course!"

The real girls giggled, while Lawrence blushed a little. "It's all right," Tania said, with a note of triumph in her voice, "He does look realistic, so it's an easy mistake."

"But I'm still sorry," she went on. "Still, I suppose that means you should do quite well."

She went off to the boy with the mop on his head, occasionally looking back at Lawrence with some disbelief. I was relieved in some ways that it had been Lawrence and not me who had been mistaken for a girl, but there was also a strange nagging feeling of disappointment as well.

"Are you all right Steve?" asked Anita.

"Yes, I'm fine," I assured her, looking around the room and all the hubbub.

"Nervous?"

"No," I responded before thinking about the question, then corrected myself. "Well, a bit perhaps."

"No need to be," she went on. "You look fantastic, you know you do. I'm so proud of you."

She smiled at me to indicate her pride, and I looked down at the floor. There was a commotion across the room for a moment. The girl who had gone off to hunt a slip had returned, and was trying to get her victim to put it on.

"Come on!" she said insistently. "Just put it on!"

"But I'm not wearing a petticoat!" he exclaimed. "It's ridiculous."

The conversation sounded so familiar from the previous Saturday. Eventually she persuaded him to put it on under his skirt, and then fussed around the hem, making sure it didn't show.

It seemed to me as if all the contestants were ready now. There were still some last minute adjustments being made to make up and hair, but other than that, we were all there dressed in our girls' school uniforms.

The door opened, and I wondered for a moment whether it would be Miss Underwood coming back in to announce the start of the contest. It wasn't however; it was Janet, one of Chrissie's sidekicks. She looked furtively around the room for a moment, and then her eyes set on us, sitting in the far corner. She smirked to herself, and then sauntered over.

"Hello Robinson," she said, in a sneering manner. Anita stood up, ready for trouble, as did Nikki and Tania. "I see your little lapdog's here with you," she went on, looking dismissively down at me briefly. "Well these are for him." She threw something onto my lap. Looking down I saw it was a pair of knickers. They were sheer and see through, with a red row of frills down the front, and no gusset. They looked as if they were the rejects from some sex shop, rather than anything anyone would really wear on a day-to-day basis. I looked back at Janet quizzically.

"They're Chrissie's," Janet went on, addressing Anita rather than me. "He's been begging her for ages to give him a pair to wear. He only went for yours when she turned him down." She smiled in an unfriendly way. "Anyway, she's decided he can have some now, the little fairy."

She stood in front of the group of us, looking very pleased with herself. Her little speech had been loud enough for the whole room to hear, and a silence had fallen across everyone in there, with eyes firmly fixed on me.

Anita gathered herself together. "Well you must thank Chrissie for us then," she stated calmly. "I guess she wasn't able to talk anyone into wearing her clothes then, seeing as she's not here."

Janet sneered in response. "Oh no, she's got someone to enter. We're in the posh cloakroom on the other side of the hall. They've only put the no-hopers in this one."

"Is that right?" Anita responded.

Janet merely grinned. "Anyway, the contest starts in a minute. Just wanted to say the worst of luck to you."

Anita glared back at her, as Janet cast a sickly smile at us. There was a moment of tension, as both girls seemed to dare the other to break the eye contact first, but then Janet turned around elaborately, and walked out of the room. Slowly the level of conversation around us picked up again, and I cringed as I realised most of it would be about how I'd begged Chrissie to let me wear her knickers.

I looked down at the knickers on my lap, and threw them onto the floor. Anita sat down next to me. "Are you okay? I don't want you upset before the contest."

"No, I'm fine." I lied. "I never asked Chrissie to wear her knickers you know."

"I didn't think you would," Anita responded reassuringly. "She's just trying to wind us up, the cow!"

Judging by the looks I was getting from elsewhere in the room, it seemed that Anita's faith in me was not universally shared. Some of the real girls giggled at pointed at me, while the boys just started in amazement and horror. I looked at the floor in shame; Chrissie had got her revenge, just as she had promised. My reputation would be in tatters within the hour, as the story spread around the school and got enhanced.

Suddenly Miss Underwood reappeared in the doorway. "Okay you guys, are we all ready?" she announced.

There was a general murmur of assent, and she took out a clipboard and flipped a couple of pages over, looking carefully at the contents. She leant with her back against the door to keep it open, and put down beside her a bag with the small plastic disks.

"Okay then, first up, number one, Ruby Earwax!"

The boy with the mop on his head stood nervously, and walked over to the door. Miss Underwood smiled at him, and wrote a bold number one on one of the plastic disks with a felt tip pen. "Go for it then Ruby, straight up to the stage please."

He disappeared through the door, and from the hall there was a gale of laughter and applause from the invisible audience.

"Next, number two; Miss Understanding," Miss Underwood announced, and another boy stood and walked over to her. A similar chorus of approval announced his arrival in the hall, while the rest of us waited nervously for our turns to come.

I was genuinely feeling butterflies in my stomach, and folded my arms around myself anxiously. As soon as I was through the door, I would have to run the gauntlet of the entire school dressed as I was. Together with the malicious rumours started by Chrissie about my underwear preferences, I could see no end of the teasing and torment I was likely to be subject to. What made matters worse, as I watched the other contestants going through the door one by one, is that, apart from Lawrence, myself and maybe one or two others, most boys had gone in for the comedy look, rather than go for realism. Dressing as a girl if you made a parody of it was possibly acceptable. Dressing as a girl, and looking like a real one was almost certainly not.

The tension continued to mount. Suddenly I heard Miss Underwood call; "Number thirteen; Lucy Lawrence."

Tania gasped in excitement, and Lawrence stood up, shaking nervously.

"Good luck," I whispered hoarsely, and tried to smile for him. He smiled nervously back, and took a deep, deep breath. He tossed back his hair, and walked shakily to Miss Underwood. She smiled at him, and gave him his little plastic disk. He paused for a moment, and then stepped through.

The reaction of the audience was rather different for Lawrence; there was only a few gasps at first, breaking the silence, and then an applause that slowly rose from a ripple to an explosion of noise. They obviously approved of the changes Tania had made to him.

There were only four or five contestants left in the cloakroom now. After Lawrence had gone through, Miss Underwood had allowed the abandoned helpers to go through into the auditorium to see the parade. Each time she looked at her sheet to call a name, my heart missed a beat. Would it be me next? Several times I was convinced that it would be, and steeled myself for the long walk up to the stage. I bit my lip nervously, and suddenly realised that Anita was holding my hand in a firm grip. I had been so preoccupied that I hadn't noticed before.

"You'll be fine!" she reassured me.

"Number sixteen; Jenny Comelately;" Miss Underwood announced. Not me again; I breathed again, as a boy dressed in a bizarre gymslip with stuck on pigtails went to the door. He took his disk, and walked confidently, if not very femininely, through into the hall, to be greeted with a chorus of laughter and a few wolf whistles. There were just two of us contestants left; me, and the boy who had belatedly been made to wear a slip. He looked as miserable as I felt, and we swapped a look of condolence, waiting for the next number to be called.

"Number seventeen; Sarah Sweetheart!" Miss Underwood's voice came through clearly. It was me; this was it. Anita looked at me with concern in her eyes, and quickly kissed me on the lips.

"Good luck Sarah!" she said, and stood before I had. I managed to get to my feet, took a deep breath, and reluctantly let go of Anita's hand before walking over to the door. My legs felt heavy, and each step required a conscious effort of will and coordination to make it happen. My heart pounded inside my chest, and I felt my cheeks fill with blood.

I made it to the door, and Miss Underwood smiled as she gave me the white plastic disk with the number seventeen scrawled on it. "Good luck," she said. "Straight up the side of the hall to the stage please."

I turned to face the open door, and closed my eyes. My bra cut into my chest, and my tights seemed to turn electric on my legs for a moment. This was it; the moment of truth. Struggling to take a breath to steady myself, I put one foot forward, and managed to get through the door.

I was greeted by silence, and a sea of faces from the seats in the auditorium looking across to me. Up on the stage to my left, Liz was standing by a microphone.

"Please welcome contestant number seventeen; Miss Sarah Sweetheart!" she announced.

The crowd gasped as one, and I walked rather too quickly up the side of the seats towards the relative sanctuary of the stage.

"Way to go Sarah!" called a voice, followed by a series of cheers, and a ripple of deafening applause from my assembled schoolmates. For some reason, I was acutely aware of the tightness of my knickers as I walked unsteadily along the gap between the nearest seats and the wall.

"Now that does look realistic," I heard a girl I did not know say to her friend as I passed.

There were a couple of wolf whistles, and I managed a nervous smile. I felt the weight of three hundred pairs of eyes on my bottom as I reached the small flight of stairs to the stage, and climbed as delicately as I could. Once there, a smiling Liz signalled me to stand next in line in the row of assembled contestants on the stage. The first part of my ordeal was over. The last contestant from our cloakroom emerged.

"Now please welcome contestant number eighteen; Miss New Woman!" Liz's voice echoed from the speakers around the hall. There was a chorus of laughter, as possibly the most recent member of the school to wear a slip came through the door, and walked up the path I had just taken.

Looking over to him, I saw Anita, Nikki and Tania slip out of the cloakroom behind him, and move towards the back of the hall to see what was going on. Anita waved, and pointed at her mouth smiling, to suggest to me I should do the same. I tried to oblige.

"Okay now," Liz went on. "Now turn your eyes to your left for the next group of contestants from the girl's cloakroom. Miss Williams, the new English teacher who was standing by the door nodded in response, and opened it.

"Now, please welcome contestant number nineteen; Miss Kissmequick."

There was more laughter, as a really tall boy, who had obviously been squeezed into his ill fitting uniform came into view, and began the walk up to the stage; and so it went on, with contestants coming one by one onto the stage. Some very obviously did not have the school uniform on; one was outrageously dressed as a French Maid, and another as a Bunny Girl.

Smiling inanely at the audience, I wondered when Peter, Chrissie's victim, would appear. He turned up at number thirty-three.

"Now please welcome;" Liz began. "Oh excuse me, it appears we have some aristocracy here. Please welcome contestant number thirty-three, the Lady Veronica Devonshire."

Peter came through the door as if pushed, and stood in front of it momentarily, before almost running towards the stage. He was dressed in an immaculate uniform, a simple blue skirt with black tights, and a dark blue jumper over a white blouse. His hair too, as Anita had feared, looked wonderful. It hung to shoulder length around his face, and looked more realistic than mine ever could. He had always been slim and pale, but the way Chrissie had made him up conveyed the impression of a sweet young girl, who, although obviously nervous, should have been used to the attention she was getting.

As they had done with all the more realistic contestants, the audience gasped its appreciation.

"That's not a boy, it's a real girl!" someone shouted, but was drowned out by a chorus of 'no's'. Peter's face betrayed his agony as he reached the steps, and as I watched him walk up them in his small but obvious heels, I knew that like me, he had been made to practice for quite some considerable time. At least I had had the solace of liking Anita while I had done my time, and she was not a particularly vindictive sort of person. I dreaded to think what tortures Peter had been put through by Chrissie and her sidekicks.

Peter joined the end of the line, and Liz waited for the audience to be quiet before continuing. There were another five contestants called out, before Liz announced that that was the end, and that the judges would be gathering to consider what they had seen.

Thirty-eight of us stood on the stage in front of the audience, while Miss Underwood and Miss Williams came up to join Liz on the stage behind the desk. They swapped notes and muttered for some time, and the audience became a little restless.

"Get your tits out!" someone shouted, to much general approval. One boy at the front lifted his jumper to reveal a huge bra stuffed with balloons, which caused immense mirth around the hall.

"And your willies!" shouted a female voice, which again caused a riot of laughter. Fortunately no one took up this suggestion, and looking across, I could see the judges worrying that things might get out of hand. Liz nodded at the other two, presumably agreeing with something that had been suggested.

She came back to the microphone. "Okay, while we're waiting," she began, and then waited for the audience to pay her sufficient attention. "Right, while we're waiting, we thought you might like to see how supple the contestants are. Does that sound good?"

There was a mixed response including a "Get on with it!" or two.

"Right," went on Liz, unperturbed. "What we'll do is ask each contestant in turn to come over here." She signalled a space by the microphone stand. "And show you how supple they are by facing the judges, and bending over to touch their toes!"

There was silence for a while, as the audience considered this. It dawned on them, at the same time as it dawned on me, that this was designed to allow the audience to see up our skirts! There was suddenly a huge raw of approval, and Liz smiled at them.

"Okay, we'll do it in order. First number one, Miss Ruby Earwax!"

The boy with the mop on his head reluctantly moved forward, and made as if to face the audience. Liz stopped him, and turned him around. He bent over, to a resounding peal of laughter from the seats in front of us.

"One, two, three and up!" counted Liz, obviously trying to ensure that there was no room for coy little bobs.

"And now for number two; Miss Understanding!"

My heart was in my mouth. There was no way I was going to be able to do this without revealing that I was wearing girl's knickers. The audience would probably also see my slip. It was horrible, probably about the worst thing that could happen.

Contestant after contestant went through the procedure, some with more grace than others.

Suddenly it was Lawrence's turn. I knew that he, like me, was wearing girl's underwear. I held my breath to see what the audience's reaction would be. Rather than the peals of laughter, which had greeted the other contestants, there was a relatively polite round of applause, and murmurs of approval. Perhaps things would not be so bad as I feared.

Lawrence smiled wistfully at me, as he returned to his place in the line. He did not look as if he had enjoyed the experience.

Suddenly it was my turn. Grimacing rather than smiling, I stepped forward, and Liz put her arm on my shoulder. Holding the microphone away, she whispered to me. "I'm sorry about this Steve; we just thought the audience were getting out of hand."

She turned me to face the judges' table, where Miss Underwood and Miss Williams were still deep in conversation.

"Okay?" Liz asked solicitously. I nodded nervously in response, and placing her hand in the middle of my back, Liz got me to bend over.

"Nice arse!" someone shouted, and the audience laughed.

"One," said Liz, as if in slow motion.

"Nice knickers!" shouted another voice.

"Two," droned Liz, as time seemed to stand still for me.

"They're mine," shouted another voice I recognised as Chrissie's. There were hoots of laughter all around. "He stole them off me three weeks ago."

"He didn't need to steal them," came another voice. It was Anita's, I was sure of it. "You leave them lying around all over the school." This caused even more laughter.

"Three," said Liz at long last, and I stood up, red as a beetroot, and walked back to my place in the line.

The rest of the contestants took their places in this ceremony over the next few minutes, while the judges continued to confer. Gradually I regained my composure.

"That was a bit embarrassing," whispered the boy next to me into my ear. I nodded in response. "Good thing I let Chloe convince me to wear a pair of her knickers." I stared at him. He was taller than me, and was wearing what was fairly obviously a boy's shirt and a gym skirt. I was surprised that he was wearing girl's knickers, with an outfit like that, but relieved. Perhaps my reputation wouldn't suffer as much as I feared if all of us had frilly knickers on.

It came to Peter's turn, and he looked as miserable as sin as he turned to face us. Chrissie had obviously drummed up a lot of support for him, for the cheering that accompanied his arrival was louder than for any of the rest of us. As he bent to touch his toes, his gorgeous blonde hair fell forward, and there were roars of approval from the audience.

"Way to go Veronica!" shouted someone.

"More!" shouted someone else.

Liz counted to three, and then helped him stand upright, smiling at him in a solicitous way. He pushed the hair away from his face, and I could see that there were two little tears coming from the corners of his eyes. Again, I dreaded to think what tortures and threats Chrissie had subjected him to in his preparation for the contest.

At last we had all done our bobs. Liz went at sat behind the judges' table, and looked at the notes the others had made, nodding occasionally, and whispering with some animation at some points.

The audience were again getting rowdy, with people calling out to their friends on stage and off. One of the contestants lifted his skirt to show off a huge pair of bloomers, which caused considerable laughter. Anita waved at me again, and by gestures, tried to remind me to smile. I did my best, but the waiting was getting a bit intense. It occurred to me then that I would probably not get through to the final. The contestants the audience liked best were the humorous ones. Much as I hated to admit it, I looked too realistic, too much like a girl, to be remotely funny. I felt sorry for Anita; she had misjudged the situation. The only solace for her was that Chrissie had as well.

Liz stood up again, and went back to the microphone. Gradually the murmur in the hall died down as people began to pay attention. I held my breath, thinking that this was the moment that I learnt that I had failed. So this was it, I thought to myself; the death of Sarah. Much as I had been looking forward to the moment, I surprised myself by feeling a little sad that this part of my life was about to end. Then Liz spoke.

"Okay, now before we announce the results, and who's qualified for the final, we're just going to have a last check on the uniforms."

There was a murmur of disappointment around the hall from those, who, like me, had thought that the results would be forthcoming.

"Anyone who's uniform isn't according to the rules will have marks deducted." Liz went on to explain. "We made that clear on the entry papers."

There were a few murmurs of discontent from people whose favourite contestants were obviously not in girl's school uniform, but this died down quickly.

"So I'm going to ask you lovely ladies to step forward one more time," she went on. "First the gorgeous Miss Ruby Earwax."

The boy with the mop on his head stepped forward, with one hand on his hip, and an exaggerated swing to his walk. The crowd loved this, and voiced their approval. Liz guided him to the judges' table, and they looked over his clothing.

Still holding the microphone, Liz announced. "I'm afraid we're going to have to check the length of this skirt!" Taking a ruler off the desk, she bent down, and held one end against the boy's knee. The girls in the crowd roared their approval of this. It hadn't been that long since this measuring of skirts was a common sight in all the form rooms around the school, as the establishment tried to restrain the eagerness of the girls to follow fashion.

"Tut tut," said Liz, standing. "Nine inches above the knee. You naughty girl!"

Ruby Earwax did his best to look contrite, and Miss Underwood scribbled something down on her papers, presumably deducting the appropriate marks.

"Right, thank you." Liz went on, signalling Ruby to take his place back in the line. "Now for number two, the delectable Miss Understanding!"

And so it went on, with each contestant taking their place in front of the judges. There seemed to be criticism of some part of almost everyone's uniform, whether it was that the skirt was too short, or the blouse the wrong colour. Some had not even made the effort to wear anything remotely resembling the school uniform, and it occurred to me that Nikki and Anita had been right to take it seriously. What galled me more was that there was no effort to see if people's underwear was 'suitably ladylike and feminine'; I had worn girl's knickers virtually all week for no real purpose.

Lawrence's turn came, and he walked brightly up to the table, and twirled around for the judges. The audience signalled its approval of this, and he passed the uniform test with flying colours.

I wondered if I would do the same; Nikki and Anita had certainly taken considerable care, but I was now getting nervous about the length of my skirt. It had only just been long enough when Nikki had measured it on Saturday. If she had made a mistake, then I'd have marks deducted, and probably not make the final. I thought about this hard as I waited for my name to be called out. I could hike the skirt up even higher, and make sure that I was eliminated. That would enable me to kill off Sarah there and then, and return to being a boy full time.

Then I thought about Peter. His uniform was immaculate; it even looked new, as if Chrissie had bought it for him specifically for the contest. His skirt was only a few inches above the knee; I had seen that when he had bent to touch his toes. There seemed little doubt that he was going to go through to the final, especially as he seemed so popular with the crowd. How would Anita take that; Chrissie's entrant making the final, and me not? She would be devastated, I knew she would.

With some reluctance I decided against hitching my skirt up. As surreptitiously as I could, I tugged at the hem a little to see if it would get a little longer.

Then it was my turn; "Now the adorable Miss Sarah Sweetheart!" announced Liz, beaming at me. I took a deep breath and stepped forward, remembering a little late to smile as naturally as I could.

I walked over to Liz, whose smile guided me, and stood next to her in front of the judges' table. Slowly, and as elegantly as I could manage, I turned around, holding my arms slightly away from my body.

"Very nice," Liz congratulated me quietly, holding the microphone away from her mouth. She then announced, "Well that seems in order to me."

"We'd best check the length of her skirt," Miss Williams said, to my shock.

"Are you sure?" asked Liz, seemingly reluctant to do so.

"Yes," she replied, and Miss Underwood nodded her agreement as well.

Liz took hold of the ruler, and knelt down in front of me. I stood stock still, wondering whether I would pass this particular test. She put the ruler onto the middle of my knee, and I felt its coldness even through my tights. I felt strangely vulnerable too, with Liz in a position, if she chose, to look up my skirt and see my knickers.

She took the measurement and stood up. I looked at her nervously, as she brought the microphone to her mouth.

"You're a lucky girl!" she announced. "You're just inside the limit. Well done."

I breathed an audible sigh of relief, and was signalled back to my place in the line. Well, at least if I didn't make the final, it wouldn't be because of some small technicality.

The rest of the contestants trouped forward one by one. As before, many failed on a number of points; one had a red skirt, another a see through silk blouse. The French Maid and the Bunny Girl received a lot of cheers from the audience, but obviously lost marks left right and centre. Peter came forward, and as I predicted, passed with flying colours, much to the pleasure of the audience. From his face, however, he took no pleasure in it himself.

At last the uniform check was over, and Liz sat down with the other judges to compare notes, and draw up a list of the ten qualifiers for the final. The audience returned to its restless state, and there was a general murmur rumbling around the hall as the thirty-eight of us stood in our lines.

My feet were beginning to ache. I was fairly used to wearing the boots, but I hadn't ever practiced standing still for a long time in them. I lifted one off the floor slightly to shake it, and then did the same with the other to relieve the stiffness in my calves. I remembered from time to time to smile at the audience, and at the judges, although the latter were entirely engrossed in their considerations.

Did I want to qualify or not? The question plagued me as I stood restlessly waiting for the announcement. Somehow being with thirty-seven other boys dressed up as girls had made the shame and embarrassment dissipate a little. I had gone in for the contest simply to please Anita, but now, up there on the stage, I began to feel a little bit competitive about it. I especially wanted to beat poor Peter, not through any ill feeling towards him, but to help Anita get one over on the despicable Chrissie.

Then Liz stood up, and went back over to the microphone. The hall fell into hushed silence.

"Right now ladies and gentlemen," she began. "It's time to announce the results of this, the qualifying round. I hope the lucky ladies selected have got some formal wear with them as well, because we'll be gathering back here at half past three this afternoon for the final." She paused for a moment, and one or two of the contestants looked a little sheepish. "Okay, well here's the gorgeous ten who will be delighting us then."

We all seemed to hold our breath, as she paused again for effect.

"Number seven; Miss Ogynist!"

A small boy of about twelve, wearing a fairly tatty but accurate girl's school uniform stepped forward with a surprised look on his face. He had done nothing with his hair, but was reasonably well made up. There were some cheers from his friends and helpers in the audience.

"Number ten, Miss Felicity Feelgood!"

Another contestant stepped forward, and made a theatrical gesture of holding his hands over his mouth in shock and surprise.

"Number twelve, Miss Teak!"

Miss Teak came forward to take his bow.

"Number thirteen, Miss Lucy Lawrence!"

Lawrence's eyes opened wide with shock as he stepped forward to receive the acclaim of the audience. He smiled broadly, and skipped to the front of the stage and gave a little wave.

"Number fifteen, Miss Wendy Lostboy!"

Another one of the contestants from our cloakroom stepped forward, and received a cheer from the crowd. That was five of the ten already; as I stood and waited, it occurred to me that I was unlikely to have been chosen. Surely they would have five from each room.

The noise from the audience died down, and Liz lifted the microphone to her mouth again. "Number seventeen, Miss Sarah Sweetheart!" she said loud and clear. I had made it! My legs felt leaden again, but I managed to step forward to join the other five at the front of the stage. There was some applause from the crowd, and a few cheers. As they died down, I distinctly heard a loud "Boo!" which upset me. I looked around the audience to see who had made it, and saw Janet grinning evilly up at me.

"Number twenty-two; Miss Feminine Side!"

Another ripple of applause, and a couple of catcalls greeted the next finalist. I couldn't believe it; I had made it. Now it had happened, all my old doubts stupidly returned. Did I really want to do this, particularly getting through to the final? Well, I thought by way of consolation, that wasn't until half past three; at least I could have a few hours dressed as a boy before Sarah came back for her swansong.

"Number thirty; Miss Cindy Doll!"

There was a larger cheer and eruption of applause for Miss Doll, an older boy with rather elaborate make up. He minced his way to the front of the stage, and blew kisses to his admirers in the crowd.

"Number thirty-three; the Lady Veronica Devonshire!"

Peter; he stepped forward looking no happier than before, but was met with the loudest of the cheers and a cacophony of clapping. He stood next to the rest of us, and looked at his feet.

"And last but not least, number thirty-six; Miss Sally Jones!"

Someone I did not know walked forward to this call. Like Peter and Lawrence, he really did look the part, with a long jet-black wig, and expertly made up face. He smiled like a professional model as he glided down towards us. If this hadn't been a womanless beauty contest, and him a boy by definition, I would have sworn he was a girl. There were quite a few wolf whistles from the audience to accompany the cheers and applause.

"So that's the final ten!" Liz announced. "I hope everyone in the audience will be back again this afternoon to see these girls in their formal wear."

The crowd, as well, shouted that they would.

"So, as you're going to see these lucky few again, I'll ask them to wait up here while the ladies we're having to say goodbye to take a final bow, and leave the stage."

Liz moved us to one side to make room for this parade. One by one the eliminated contestants came forward to wave, take a final applause, and then go down the steps back to their respective changing rooms. After some time, there were only the ten of us left.

"I hope you've all got some formal wear," Liz said to us.

"I haven't," said Miss Ogynist.

Liz shook her head; "Well you'll have to see what you can rustle up before this afternoon then."

The audience too was thinning. Looking over the edge of the stage, I saw that Anita and Nikki had come to the front.

"Well done Steve!" Anita shouted to me. I smiled back at her. "And well done Lawrence!"

"Okay then, well we'll be using the girl's cloakrooms to get changed this afternoon. It'll be available from about two o'clock," Liz went on. "I'll see you all in there to check that everything's okay. Right, you can go now."

There was a strange reluctance to leave the stage, but after a while Miss Sally Jones made the first move, walking confidently down the stairs, and being kissed and hugged by three or four girls. I queued with the others to follow him, and was similarly greeted by Anita and Nikki.

"You did really well!" Anita enthused, beaming at me. I was still in something of a state of shock about the whole affair, but managed to smile back.

"And so did you Lucy," gushed Tania, who had managed to get through the crowds to join us.

"I was really worried about your skirt though," went on Anita. "Especially when they decided to measure it."

"Yeah," agreed Nikki. "It was just about on the borderline you know. If you'd have hitched it up, you would have been deducted points for sure."

I felt embarrassed that I had, for a moment, considered doing just that.

"So what do we do now?" I asked.

Anita looked at her watch. "It's nearly twelve o'clock now," she said. "We could go and get something to eat if you want."

"Yes, but I think I'll get changed first." I replied.

"Oh no, don't do that!" Anita gasped.

"No!" agreed Nikki. "Stay as you are; it'll be much better."

I hesitated, and looked at Lawrence. "I'm staying like this," he said breezily. "It'll keep me in the right mood for the final."

"Yeah," agreed Nikki.

I thought about the suggestion. It was certainly tempting to get back to being a boy, but it would only be for a couple of hours at most. In the end I gave in. "Well all right. I might as well stay as Sarah." I said at length. Anita's smile widened.

"We'd best go and move the dresses and stuff to the other cloakroom first though," Nikki suggested. "We don't want to get them lost do we?"

"Certainly not!" agreed Anita.

We walked through the now nearly empty hall to the cloakroom where we had got changed. Walking through, all was mayhem with all the contestants in varying states of undress, and transformation back to boys. As we tried to barge our way through to our corner, the contestant I knew as Miss Teak rushed up to me.

"Congratulations!" he shouted above the background noise.

"You too," I replied.

"It was really good wasn't it?" he went on, still with his wig, make up, and girl's school uniform on. "I was a bit surprised with the touching the toes routine. That wasn't in the information I had."

"Me neither," I responded. "I think it was just a spur of the moment thing to keep the crowd quiet."

"Do you know," he said, "I nearly wore a shorter skirt, but I changed my mind at the last minute."

"Really?"

"Yes!"

Suddenly there was an ear-piercing wail from a corner of the room. We all turned around to see what it was. My mouth fell open when I saw it was Tania, standing transfixed, and her eyes open in terror. I pushed my way through the crowd to join her and my other companions, and to see what the matter was.

"Oh God that's awful," gasped Anita as I approached.

"How could she do such a thing?" asked Nikki rhetorically.

Tania was holding Lawrence's dress out from its hanger, and looking at it in utter dismay.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"This!" Tania almost spat, holding the dress out for me to see. Right across the bodice, someone had scrawled in thick black marker pen. I couldn't see the words.

"What does it say?" I asked.

"It says 'no chance Robinson." Anita told me, quiet and stern. "It must have been Chrissie. I should never have shouted out about her leaving her knickers everywhere. I'm so sorry Tania."

Lawrence looked as if he was about to cry. Tania simply held the offending article, and stared fixedly at it, as if willing the defacement to disappear.

"It's ruined," she muttered. "Totally ruined. And now Lawrence hasn't got a costume for the final either."

Nikki put her hand on her sister's shoulder. "Well perhaps one of the contestants who's been knocked out could lend him one," she suggested.

"They're not likely to be his size are they? He's so delicate." Tania replied gloomily.

There was a painful silence for a while, as we all surveyed the damage to the dress. Eventually I felt compelled to speak up. "He can have my dress," I volunteered. "You wanted him to have it anyway Tania."

"No!" exclaimed Anita. "If you do that, it means Chrissie has won!"

All eyes fell on Tania. She was quiet for a while, and then said. "You're right Anita. We can't let her think she's won. I'm sure she only did this because she thought it was Steve's dress; it'll be good to see her face when he comes out for the final in the other one."

"Yeah," agreed Nikki.

"But what about Lawrence?" I continued. "He shouldn't have to give up because of this."

"I don't mind," said Lawrence in a strained voice. His face betrayed this as a lie, the corners of his mouth beginning to turn down.

We all returned to our mournful examination of the once beautiful dress. I felt terrible. The joy we had all felt at Lawrence and I qualifying had dissipated like the early morning mist. A lovely dress, one that even I had worn, had been ruined, and Lawrence was now not going to get his moment of glory.

"We ought to tell someone," Nikki said at length. "We can't let Chrissie get away with this."

"She'd just deny it was her," said Anita bitterly. "We've got no proof have we? It could have been anyone."

"Well I know it was her," Nikki continued bitterly. "Who else would have done it, or wanted to say exactly that."

"But that's still not proof," Anita replied. "There's nothing we can do, except to make sure Steve stills goes in for the final and wins."

"But what about Lawrence?" I asked. I looked at him. Despite his best efforts, there were tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "He deserves to go in for the final as well; it's nothing to do with him that his dress has been ruined."

"I know that," Anita spat savagely at me. "But what can we do about it? We've only got one dress, and you need that. Besides, it didn't really fit him properly. Don't you remember when you both tried them on Sunday?"

I remembered it vividly.

"It's so unfair," sobbed Lawrence, suddenly breaking down. Nikki leant him a shoulder to cry on. The rest of us stood in awkward silence. I looked around the rest of our stuff to see if any other damage had been done.

"All my stuff's gone as well," I said, after checking. "My jeans and T-shirt and stuff. She must have taken it when she did this." I felt a fleeting panic that I was now without any boy's clothes to retreat into when the contest was over, but it was entirely overshadowed by the disaster of the dress.

"We'll go and see her and make her give them back," Nikki stated, with a tone of menace in her voice.

"I doubt if it'll do any good. She's probably thrown them in a bin, or burnt them or something." Anita said, gloomily.

"It's not important," I said. "I'm more worried about Lawrence and his dress."

"But it means you've got to go home dressed as a girl!" Nikki stated, disbelieving my indifference.

I shrugged. "I've spent so much time as Sarah this past week, that doesn't really bother me any more."

"But what about your Mum and Dad?" Nikki went on. "I didn't think you wanted them to know about this?"

"I can cross that bridge when I come to it," I replied. "We ought to think about what we can do for Lawrence now.

"There's nothing we can do!" wailed Tania. "No dress, no final; I might as well go and tell Liz now that we've had to pull out."

"No wait!" I shouted, without any plan other than to stop her burning all her boats. "There must be something we can do!"

And then it occurred to me. There was a source for a replacement dress; one that would be as good, if not better, than the one that had been lost. I thought about the idea for a few brief seconds, and then decided to act.

I grabbed Lawrence by the arm. "Come on," I said, insistently. "You're coming with me."

"Where are you going?" asked Anita.

"We're going to fix Lawrence up with a dress!" I said firmly, moving us towards the cloakroom door.

"But where?" Anita asked, moving along with us.

"Where do you think?" I asked, bitterly. "Sylvia's Boutique!"

Anita opened her mouth in shock. "I thought you didn't want to go back there?"

"I didn't; but needs must, when the Devil plays the tune."

"I'll come with you," she said. "Hold on a minute."

"NO!" I said insistently. "Lawrence and I can manage this on our own!"

She looked at me with a startled expression on her face. I don't think I had ever raised my voice to her before, and it obviously shocked her to the core. A tiny part of me wanted to apologise, but was swept away by my resolve to solve the problem at hand.

"We'll see you when we get back," I said in parting, as I led Lawrence out into the hall.

"Are you sure this will be okay?" he asked me, as we strode purposefully through the corridors to the main door.

"Of course; trust me." I replied. But I was by no means certain that my precipitous action was as wise as I had tried to make it seem. What would Sylvia's reaction be to me turning up, and demanding to borrow a dress? If nothing else she would try and hold me to the previous arrangement of working in the shop for payment. That meant that even if I ducked out of the girls' night out on Saturday, Sarah would be very much alive even when the contest finished. On top of that, there was the memory of Sylvia's attempt to molest me, and the leering way she looked at me. Having me working in the shop would provide her with ample opportunity to grope at me again. I had hoped to avoid any danger of that simply by never going near her again. Now I had to face her as my demon, and find some other strategy to keep her at bay.

Suddenly my mind cleared from all these thoughts, and I realised that Lawrence and I had walked all the way to the station. We passed through the barriers, and were just in time to catch a train back to the small town where Anita and Nikki lived, and where the demon Sylvia waited in her lair to trap me.

  

  

  

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