Fashion Disaster             by:  Emmie Dee           © 2000

 

"Aw, mom! Does Dougie have to be in the house with me and the girls Saturday night?" My sister Donna, then 15, had on her best whiney voice.

"Really, mom, dad. I don’t want to be here for their hen party, anyway. Can’t my grounding be postponed? I could stay over at Jeff’s and leave the girls alone." At least I could try. Then I turned to my big sister. "And quit calling me Dougie. I’m 12 now." She stuck her tongue out at me. Very mature.

"No," mom said. "Doug, you couldn’t stay at Jeff’s right now even if you weren’t grounded. He’s the one who got you into trouble in the first place." We were just riding our mountain bikes in the hills. We didn’t know the No Trespassing signs were meant for us. We didn’t do any damage, but the cranky landowner blamed us for damage that other kids had done. Mom continued. "Now I don’t see why it’s such a big problem. We’re not asking you to babysit Doug, he’s mature and responsible—for the most part. Aunt May will be there in the garage apartment in case of emergency. She’ll fix the spaghetti dinner that you and your friends all love, and all I’m asking is that you all have supper together. Then Doug can stay out of your way so you and the girls can have your slumber party." The girls were Donna and five of her friends who called themselves "the Inseparables." They were, too, ever since Kindergarten, I think. Every few months they would spend a weekend together, doing girl stuff.

Donna tried to explain in a condescending tone. "Mom, it’s called a sleepover, not a slumber party. Slumber party is so sixties. And we just won’t be comfortable with a boy around. Say. After supper, could we lock him in the basement?" Sheesh. Older sisters.

"I’ll grant you your need for some privacy. Doug can go to the basement after supper, but you can’t lock him in. He will respect your privacy. Now please, Donna. Dad and I have been planning this second honeymoon for years. We decided that you’re both mature enough to stay on your own, with Aunt May there for backup, of course. Now please show us some of that maturity. Don’t make us feel bad for going." Mom’s neck was getting a little red—a bad sign.

"It’s okay, mom," I said, trying to calm things down. "I’ll eat supper with them and go hibernate. Why would I want to bother them, anyway? It’s just a bunch of girls."

Donna shot a wilting glare at me. "That’s fine. I don’t want to ruin your trip, mom and dad. I just want to keep problems from rising. But what if he does snoop?"

"I don’t think he will," Dad said. "If he tries to snoop while girls are undressing, then he’ll be grounded until he’s 21. If he comes up to bother you otherwise, just invite him to join the party." Donna rolled her eyes, but nodded. We moved on to hear mom and dad review their travel plans, so we would know how to reach them in an emergency. It did feel kind of good to be trusted enough that they could leave knowing we wouldn’t cause problems. Well, major ones, anyway.

Aunt May, my mom’s aunt actually, is as sweet as can be. Like mom (obviously) she's Italian, and a great cook. Both of us kids (and our older brother Dave who is already on campus for summer school) have inherited mom’s and May’s thick black hair. Friday evening came. The house smelled wonderful from supper simmering when the Incorrigibles--oops, the Inseparables--(try the Suspicious Six) gathered. They all arrived together. Jennifer, a tall blonde, has her license and picked up the others in an old station wagon that’s their family’s second car. Cindy was short, freckled, red-haired, a little plump, but always full of fun. Lisa, or Leese, as everyone usually called her, enjoyed sports, was considered a tomboy by her parents (how archaic), had long, straight hair pulled back in a pony tail, sort of a plain face, but pretty green eyes that glinted with fun. Leticia was Hispanic, with long, dark hair. She would slug you hard when you called her Morticia. Brandy was pretty, with long light brown hair, and shy until you got to know her. Other kids assumed she was stuck up, but she really was nice. Anyway, Donna met the crew at the door, and went out to help carry stuff in. It looked like they had enough for an encampment, not just a sleepover.

I started outside to see if I could help, nice young brother that I am. "Hey DeeDee," Cindy called to my sister. (They called her DeeDee because of her initials, for Donna Dawson. Since our parents both had first names as well as last names starting with D, they’ve inflicted the D.D. initials on all their offspring.) "Your cute little brother is offering to help. Is he going to be at our party, too?" I figured she was teasing me, and it was working. My blushing mechanism heated my face.

"Not if I can help it," Donna said. "The twerp is grounded and has to stay in the house, but he’s agreed to stay out of our way. If he does get in our way, well, he won’t want to find out what will happen." With the obligatory warning out of the way, we finished carrying in the provisions.

"Isn’t this even more stuff than usual?" I asked, my arms full of sleeping bags and bulging trash bags.

Donna smiled. "It’s a theme party. We’ve all picked up the tackiest stuff we could lay our hands on. Six normally fashionable, beautiful young women are going to cross over to the other side and be fashion disasters." Then she frowned and shook her finger at me. "But no pictures! And no telling your friends! Promise on your honor!" I promised. "On your honor" was a big thing in our house.

Soon we were finishing the last of the great feast of pasta, antipasto, garlic bread, and sherbet, and we were all helping Aunt May carry dishes into the kitchen. "Wonderful dinner!" at least four of the girls told her.

"You’re great, Aunt May," I said, giving her a hug. I helped her load the dishwasher as the teenagers gathered in the living room, giggling and carrying on. All the girls in the group were really kind of nice, as girls go, but I guess silliness came with the job description. At least since they were older, they weren't as goofy as the 6th and 7th grade girls at my middle school. For the most part, my female classmates were complete airheads.

Of course, the girls in our living room were giggling pretty loud. Maybe when they get together in packs, their brains slip a few cogs. I thought I heard Leese say, "Your brother is so cute." I hoped she wasn't talking to Donna about me. Maybe she meant somebody else's brother. "I love his wavy hair and dark eyelashes." Yep. It was me.

Before we were finished in the kitchen, Donna opened the door. "Okay, Doggie (I hated the canine nickname), I only want to say this once. Our private party has started now, and under no circumstances--except for maybe a fire--are you to come upstairs until breakfast time. We have our contingency plans in place if you do." She was speaking loud enough for her friends to hear. I heard a few calls of "Yeah!" and "Tell him, DeeDee."

"Fine with me," I muttered, as I went downstairs. We have a little room in the basement that's kind of cozy. Our older, more comfortable couch is down there, and my sleeping bag was on it. There's a half-bath--stool and sink, but no shower or tub. I had already loaded the mini-refrigerator with sodas and snacks. Most important, of course, was the family laptop computer and the small television. For a few minutes, I surfed the TV. Summer reruns. Boring. So I went to boot up the computer. Nothing. The battery was dead. I listened. The living room sounded quiet, so the girls must have gone upstairs. The plug-in adapter for the laptop was in mom and dad's study, right at the top of the stairs. Maybe I could sneak up quietly and not get caught.

Wrong. I got to the study okay, found the adapter, and started to open the door. There they were, the whole tribe. Pack. Gaggle. Whatever. "I only came up for this," I said, waving the adapter.

"I only wish I could believe that," Donna said with a solemn face. "We told you to stay in your cave. We can only assume that you came up to spy on us or pester us, and that this" waving at the cord "was a flimsy excuse. You could have gotten the cord earlier, you know."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bother you," I said. "You can complain to mom and dad when they come home and they'll extend my grounding. You won't see me again, I promise."

"Wrong," Donna said, grinning at me. "We will see you again, all night. You're going to be our guest. Remember when dad said that if we caught you, you could join the party?"

"He was just teasing!" I protested.

"Sounded like a direct order to me," my sister said. "Come on, Doggie. We won't be mean to you. Maybe you'll even have some fun hanging out with the older girls."

I sighed. "So instead of doing something constructive this evening, I have to sit around and watch you all act silly?"

"Nope," Sis said. "You'll get to do everything we do--except for watching when we change for bed. No peeping tom act for you, Doggie."

"But I don't want to do the stuff that you do. It doesn't interest me. It's girls' stuff." I looked toward the study window, but it was closed because the AC was on. Besides, a broken ankle or two sounded like even less fun than a night with the Six. Maybe. Maybe not.

"Ah, come on, Dougie," Leese said. "Loosen up. You're doomed to spend the party with us, so you might as well enjoy it. You're cute enough, you'll fit right in."

I didn't want to fit right in, but Jennifer and Leese, the strongest of the two, had me by my biceps, and only squeezed hard when I tried to move the other way.

Actually, we went downstairs again, confirming my suspicions that this might all have been a setup.

They--we--gathered around the large television, and Donna turned it to a cable channel. So I guessed we would be watching some sappy chick flick. Wrong. It was a show called "Fashion Disaster." "What on earth is this?" I asked. "And why would you want to watch it?"

Cindy explained. "It's a neat show, Doug. They take people who are walking fashion disasters--their boyfriends or girlfriends or coworkers nominate them--and give them new clothes, makeovers, all that good stuff, so they can go to some party, or dancing at a club, or whatever. You'd be amazed at the results--some geeks end up looking great." Sure enough, the announcer was telling a female medical student that she was a fashion disaster, and was going to get a makeover. Instead of acting insulted, the woman acted delighted.

"Thrilling," I muttered. "And totally irrelevant to me."

"Not so," Letitia said. "Guys get makeovers on this show, too--new haircuts, clothes, and come out looking cool. It isn't just a girl thing to want to look nice." On the TV, they were holding up evening gowns in front of the med student's scrubs.

"So I suppose that you're going to give one another makeovers tonight so you can pretend you're on the show, and look like you're ready for a dance or something." I didn't mention that they all looked pretty good to begin with. They might think I was buttering them up.

"Wrong in two ways," Donna said. "First of all, you're going to be in on this, too, since you invited yourself to our party. Second, for our Fashion Disaster theme tonight, we're going to do it in reverse. We're going to have fun becoming fashion disasters." So they make me look like a geek boy. I could live with that, I guess. It's just for one night. Since dad's an engineer, I even know where he keeps an old plastic pocket liner.

"Okay, I'll play along," I said.

"That will make it easier on you," Jennifer smirked. "By the way, since you aren't familiar with our rules for the party, let me spell them out. They are for your safety as well as ours. First, we're here to have fun, and not to be mean--well, unnecessarily mean, anyway. Second, there will be no teasing one another afterwards about how we end up, and no telling anyone else without permission. That goes for photos, too. Anyone who would show my boyfriend a picture of me looking like a dork girl will end up dead. Road kill. Got that?" I nodded. "Third, no long-lasting changes without the victim's permission. So we wouldn't bleach your sister's hair unless she wanted to, f'rinstance." That was a relief. I nodded assent. "Fourth, you know that when we have one of our parties, your sister is usually gone for the weekend?" I nodded. "The party does not end until tomorrow evening. So if we make ourselves fashion disasters tonight, we'll be fashion disasters tomorrow, too." I hadn't counted on that. It meant that I would be stuck at home with them longer than I would have been otherwise, but since I was grounded anyway, who cares?" She asked me to reaffirm my agreement, and everyone else to, as well. I didn't have much choice.

We moved on into the second phase of the party when the show was over. They put Back Street Boys on the CD player, and hauled out all those bags they had brought in. I assumed it would be like Halloween, and we would just go to the bags and pick out goofy costumes. But, no, we had to play a game, Truth or Dare. I wasn't familiar with it. Evidently, someone would ask another person an embarrassing question. The other person could tell the truth or accept a dare. They would use a die to determine which part of a makeover they would do. 1 and 2 were clothing, 3 hands and feet, 4 facial makeup, 5 hairstyle, and 6 shoes and/or accessories. 1, 2, and 6 could be repeated. My chances of becoming a geeky guy were looking slim. They arranged a chart of who would ask questions of whom.

Cindy started, asking Leese if she had ever gone all the way with a boy. Leese said "Dare." She rolled a 3. Cindy went to a box and pulled out a bottle of ugly bright purple nail polish and a bottle of metallic green. Together they were hideous. "Alternate colors, hands and toes, please," Cindy said, and we had begun. On her turn, Letitia told the truth to another embarrassing question from Lisa. Then it was Leese's turn to ask Donna, and Donna accepted the dare, rolled a 6, and put on elephant slippers. She got off easy, I thought. But now Donna turned to me. She asked, "I overheard you promise to your older brother that you would never tell about something that he had done. What was it?" She smirked. I had given my word that I wouldn't let anybody know of his date with a girl our folks had forbidden him to see. I sighed and said "Dare." I rolled a 3, also. Hands and feet. Donna ordered me to take off my sneakers and athletic socks.

Brandy piped up. "I have some nail extensions that I was going to use on Leese, since she hates having long nails, but I'll donate them to the cause."

So they all were laughing and teasing as they glued the plastic nails on me. They weren't claws, but bad enough. Then they handed me a bottle of dark red nail polish, instructed me to paint from base to tip, and slowly my fingers and toes were transformed. They added a toe ring and a thumb ring for good measure. They all praised me for my neatness, and helped wipe up the few smudges I made. I had always been good at art, so I guess that helped.

Letitia chose dare when I asked who kissed her last. I found a long black dress that would add to her Morticia image. As the evening went on, they would add dramatic makeup, black hose and shoes, and black nail polish to add to the Morticia image. Of course, she blamed it on me since I got it started. And so it went. A whole group descended on Brandy's long hair, braiding it in four different sections, and closing the braids with large ribbons. They slathered lots of makeup on Leese, and made her wear hot pink shorts and a halter top. Cindy began to look more and more like a little girl, with red puppy dog tails on the sides of her head, and a frilly dress. My sister began to acquire a Goth look with slicked-back hair, pale base makeup, and some purple racing stripes reaching out from her eyebrows. Jennifer was in bib overalls.

On my next turn, Cindy asked me the same question that Donna had. "It isn't fair to ask the same question twice," I protested.

"It isn't fair for you to crash our party," Donna smirked. Anyway, I took Dare and rolled a 4. With lots of advice from her friends, Cindy started on my face. I hated the eyeliner, and the mascara brush made me flinch, too. The mascara made my dark lashes look longer and darker, though. Cindy worked in dark gray eye makeup around my eyelids, and foundation and blush. She handed me a tube of lipstick the same dark red as my nails, and I did the best I could, imitating how I'd seen girls apply it.

Several girls commented on what a nice job Cindy did. As I looked in the mirror, I had to agree. "Cindy, this looks really nice. I thought since you're doing fashion disasters, I'd come out looking like a clown or something."

"Well," Cindy admitted with a smile, "We all agreed that since it's enough of a fashion disaster to make a boy look like a girl, and since you weren't struggling or fighting back, we'd be nice to you. With Leese saying how cute you were, we wanted to see how cute you could become. Actually, with all of us ending up dorky looking, you'll probably be the cutest girl in the bunch." It was hard to turn away from the mirror, but I did.

I wasn't paying much attention when Jennifer chose a dare. Letitia grinned wickedly. "Your dare is to have Dougie be your hairdresser, and for him to roll all your hair in rollers for the night." I don't know which of us groaned loudest.

"But I don't know anything about hair rollers!" I shouted.

"That's the idea," Letitia grinned. "Now you can learn." Girls scrambled for the rollers, picks, and a comb. Letitia showed me the basic way of combing out a section, applying a setting gel, wrapping the hair around the roller, and clipping it tight. I could tell by the giggle level when I was really doing it wrong. Soon, though, I seemed to be getting the hang of it. I even used tiny rollers on her bangs.

Soon it was my turn again, they asked the same question, and I was sent off to the bathroom with a matching lavender panties and bra set, and a lavender nightgown. Of course, someone suggested that I should repaint my nails, and they found a bottle of lavender polish. My efforts at rolling Jennifer's hair seemed to delight everybody, so I became the resident beautician, painting nails and doing makeup. Depending on who I was "doing," I either played it straight or went a little wild with bright colors. Of course, when it was my turn again, I ended up with a head full of rollers, too, covered by a lavender hairnet. Everyone agreed that it was my color. Of course I groaned and complained, and I wouldn't admit to them that it was actually kind of fun, goofing around with a bunch of older girls.

As I was painting Cindy's nails a pale green color, she frowned and said, "We can't call you Dougie now, can we? You sure don't look like a Dougie to me. And I can't think of any girl's name that sounds like Dougie."

Donna chimed in. "It has to start with D, since all the first names in our family do. Debbie? Denise? Daphne? Maybe. She's daffy enough. Darlene? She doesn't quite look like a Darlene. Let's see. Dorene? Diana? Dierdre?"

"Wait!" cried Cindy. "I have it! My great aunt is named Dorothy, but everybody calls her Dottie, or Dot. So Dougie will be Dottie, and that can be her theme. Polkadots! I have some white dot decals we can add to her nails, And I'm sure we can find some outfit for her for tomorrow with polkadots." Cindy's enthusiasm carried the day and I was christened as Dottie. It seemed as good as anything, so I just shrugged and nodded.

I had a nagging concern, though. Finally, I asked, timidly, "What about tomorrow? Are we just going to sit around here looking silly all day? Or are we going to do more makeovers, or what?"

Leese smiled and said, "Who said we were hanging out here all day? We have a full day planned, and you're going to come with us, Dottie. We're going to brunch, then to church…."

"Wait a minute!" I panicked. "I can't go to our church looking like a girl! They know me there. They'll figure me out in a second!"

"Not your church, silly," Leese said, "My church. Then in the afternoon, you all will be my cheering section when I play softball. We have a church women's softball league, and I pitch. Afterwards, we'll stop off for ice cream, and come back here to change back to normal."

"Wait a minute," I protested. "If I have to leave the house looking like a girl, I'm glad we're going to your church, and not mine. But I don't get it. You said that we had to look like we do now tomorrow, too." They giggled and pointed at me. "Yeah, I know I'm not going in a nightgown, but still--my sister looks really Goth, and Mortitia--Letitia--looks spooky and everything. Isn't your church kind of conservative? Won't we look like a warmed-over Halloween party?"

"It's cool," Leese responded. "Yeah, our church likes women to wear dresses on Sunday. And we're not going to go all looking really goofy looking, like we are tonight. But tonight we're playing with themes that we'll probably follow through with in a less crazy way tomorrow. Your sis and Lettie will probably wear black, and I'll look a lot more frilly than usual--my mom will love me for that--Jennie will look real country, Brandy and Cindy will look more little-girlish than usual, and you, my dear Dottie, will be as cute as any girl in the bunch in your sweet polkadots."

Right on cue, Cindy brought out the white dotted decals, applied them to my fingernails and big toes, and sealed them with a layer of clear polish. By this time we had abandoned the Truth or Dare game, and were just messing around with our own or each other's makeup or hair, or trying on clothes. Eventually, this wild bunch wanted to change into their own nighties and roll out their sleeping bags in the living room. I sort of wanted to stay up with them, but I didn't fuss too much when they sent me to my own room, after washing my makeup off. Good idea--I would be in all kinds of trouble if mom found lipstick on my pillow. When I climbed into bed, I got to find out what it's like to try and sleep with a headful of lumpy rollers. After some tossing and turning, I plopped on my stomach, face down in the pillow, and began sawing logs. The next morning, I still had on the same lavender underwear and gown as the night before. At first, it felt bizarre to lay there with the rollers in my hair, the female outfit, and seeing my lavender and white nails. But I was Dottie now, and would be most of the day. So I went downstairs, stepping over the snoring bodies. Evidently, they had stayed up a lot later than I did. I went into the kitchen and was shocked to see Aunt May there. She didn't seem too surprised to see me. She just smiled and said that I looked lovely. Evidently Donna had told her about my makeover. So I just smiled and shrugged. I smile and shrug a lot.

Since they all woke up later than planned, so we decided to have our brunch at home. At least, that delayed my "coming out" in public as a girl for an hour or two. As one of the "hostesses," I was padding around in my nightgown helping pull out dishes and set the table while Lisa and Jennie drove out to get doughnuts and bagels. After we ate, we quickly cleaned up and put the dishes in the dishwasher. Donna and I could finish cleaning up later in the afternoon.

Having seven girls run around deciding what to wear and getting ready is chaos, but fun chaos. Cindy told me to unroll my own curlers, but then she combed out my hair, and added some butterfly clips. She insisted that I try my own makeup, and watched over me, giving me advice. With her help, I have to admit that I--Dottie--was cute, and that I wouldn't have to worry about anybody recognizing me as a boy. Donna wanted me to wear an old frumpy housedress of mom's, navy with white polkadots all over. I didn't want to, because it even made my young and pretty mom look old and frumpy when she wore it, which thank heavens, wasn't often. Brandy saved the day by finding a mint green skirt with tiny white dots that were scattered around on the fabric, not marching in stiff rows like on the other dress. It was soft and pretty. A white peasant blouse embroidered with flowers picked up on the colors of the skirt, and of my nails. It was funny that Lisa's bright purple and green nails looked awful, but the softer lavender and green shades that I wore worked very nicely together. Even I could see that, and I was just a boy. Well, sort of.

"Here, see if these fit," Letitia said, handing over a pair of white sandals that nicely showed off my painted toenails. The width was a little tight, but the straps had buckles that I could adjust. Lettie rummaged around in the jewelry and found me a thumb ring and some bangle bracelets, and Brandy even took off her ankle chain to loan to me. "Dottie," Brandy said, "I have just the earrings for you, but they're for pierced ears." She held up a pair that sparkled in the light. Most girls your age have pierced ears, already, and a lot of boys, too," she added. "You wouldn't consider it, would you?" Actually, I was ready to say yes, since I had wanted to get my left one pierced anyway, when Donna interrupted.

"Brandy, no. Don't even ask. If Dottie got her ears pierced without her parents' permission, do you know who would be in such deep trouble that she would be grounded for life? Not Dottie. Me."

Brandy sheepishly nodded, and found a pair of clip-ons. They looked more like something Aunt May would wear, but they were okay, I guess. By the time everybody was ready, our group didn't look garish, but it did look interesting. We were a bunch of fashion free spirits. Leese's blonde hair, loose from the pony tail and curled, hung down past her shoulders, wore a lacy pink dress. Since I had hardly ever seen her in a dress, it surprised me how feminine this jock looked--except for the ugly nail polish. Cindy, in a bright yellow jumper and her red hair still in puppy dog tails, tied off with yellow yarn bows, looked like a very large eight-year-old. My sister and Letitia both looked funereal wearing black dresses, with Donna wearing black nail polish and Letitia dark red. Jennifer's hair, victim of my hairdressing attempt, hadn't combed out too badly, and the other girls had sprayed and teased it out into an outdated "big hair" style. Jennie wore a denim skirt and pink plaid blouse, and looked like a country-western singer. Brandy wore navy tights and a plaid jumper, left over from parochial school days, but it still fit her okay. Her hair was still tied up by ribbons into multiple braids. Then there was me, Dottie, a girl for the last fifteen hours are so, nervously clutching a purse. The high fashion types at school would have made all sorts of nasty remarks about us, but that would have been their problem. I just hoped that no guys would find out--that would be my problem.

Just then, Lisa's mother, Mrs. Constable, pulled up in their tan sedan. "Oh, I just thought of something," Donna told us as we went out the door to pile into the sedan and Jennifer's station wagon. "Dottie, we were going to introduce you to people as my sister. But Lisa's mom might remember me talking with her about my family, that I only had two brothers. So you'd better be my cousin, instead, okay?" Like usual, I just shrugged and nodded.

Donna, Lisa, and I climbed into the car and greeted Mrs. Constable. Donna introduced me. I smiled and said, "Good morning, ma'am. Thank you for taking us to church." The other two tried not to giggle as I sat there, hands folded on my purse on my lap. When we got to Prescott Road Baptist Church, our group, along with Lisa's parents, filled a pew. During the announcements, the preacher asked the guests to introduce themselves. Donna introduced herself first, and then said I was Dottie Dawson, her cousin from Cleveland. I smiled and nodded. Leese told everyone that we would be there for the softball game to cheer them on, and people clapped politely. The preacher was louder than what I was used to, and that made me a little uncomfortable, but the singing was good.

After worship, we all filed out and shook hands with the preacher, who went on about how much beauty we added to worship and hoped we would all come back again. I was waving my hand around, trying to dry off some of the preacher's handshake sweat from it while not wiping it on my skirt, when Kevin Rivers and Scott Hansen walked up to me. Kev and Scott are both on my baseball team. Had they figured me out? No, they both smiled and blushed and introduced themselves and thanked me for coming to church. Then I remembered that Kevin's father was a minister--evidently this minister, the one with sweaty palms.

"Uh, we were wondering if you're related to Doug Dawson," Scott said. "He's a bud of ours. We play baseball together. Nice guy."

"Not as cute as you, though," said Kevin with a cheesy grin. Gee, thanks.

"Uh, yeah," I stammered. "I'm Dot. Doug's my cousin. That's Donna, his older sister. I'm visiting from Cleveland. Ohio. Uh, nice to meet you." My cheeks felt hot.

Donna joined us, grinning at my red-cheeked discomfort. "You're right. Dottie's a lot cuter than Dougie ever was. Are you guys coming to the softball game?"

Scott had other plans. Kevin grinned and said "I might, if I can sit by you." I was seriously considering punching him out when Lisa walked up, a discouraged look on her face.

"They may have to cancel the game," she said. "The Wendells are out of town, and Margie Manning sprained her wrist. That takes us to seven, and you need a minimum of nine."

"Could some of us play?" I asked. "I mean, do you have to be members of this church, or anything?" Lisa wasn't sure, so she went to ask. I saw her come back, smiling.

"Well, they don't want mercenaries who just come to play ball and nothing else, but if you come to church that morning, you're eligible to play even if you're not a member. Will you play, Dottie?" Leese looked at me expectantly.

"Uh, sure," I said. Lisa looked around the group. Donna hates sports. Cindy volunteered, and so did Brandy. That gave us ten. Lisa hugged us and ran off to tell the others. At least if I was playing, I wouldn't have to sit by Kevin. Maybe he wouldn't come.

The Constables had us over for dinner after church. It was a picnic style dinner, cold fried chicken, potato salad, and baked beans, but we ate indoors since most of us weren't able to change from our dresses after church. The food was great and I was starved, but every time I started to wolf it down, Donna nudged me in the ribs. I got plenty of chicken grease on my polka dotted nails, though.

"Lisa," I asked as I dumped some beans on my plate, "I can't really play in this outfit, can I? Do you have uniforms or anything?" I had hopes of getting home and putting on my own baseball shoes, jeans, and tee.

"We don't really have uniforms, Dou…" the tall girl started.

"Lisa, please don't say 'Duh' to a guest, particularly one as polite and charming as Dottie," her mother scolded. Donna bit her lip and snorted just a little. We all knew that she was starting to say 'Doug' or 'Dougie.'

Lisa quickly apologized. "I'm sorry, mom. I'm sorry, Dottie. I didn't mean it. Anyway, we're called the Pink Panthers, and we don't have regular uniforms. We usually wear shorts, shells, and sneakers. Then we have these hot pink vests, kind of embarrassing really, like clerks at discount stores wear, but really hot pink, that say 'Pink Panthers' on the back, and hot pink baseball caps. They bring the vests and caps to the games and we put them on there. But you're right. You'll have to get something else to play softball in, and my clothes are too big for you." I smiled and asked if I could go home to get some jeans and sneakers.

"I have an idea, Dottie," Brandy said. "There's not really time to go back to your house, but we're close enough to the same size you can borrow some of my stuff, since I just live a few blocks away." She was about my height. Brandy, the prettiest girl in the group, was also the most petite.

"Uh, that's fine, I guess, but what about Cindy, if she's playing? And aren't you all a little overdressed for the bleachers?"

"Dottie, I'm sorry," Donna began. "We all packed a change of clothes in a duffel. I guess I just forgot to tell you to add yours." Sure, sis. You really wanted me to be the only girl in the bunch attending a ball game dressed up for church. I glared. "Please? Dottie? I am really sorry," she told me. "We're so used to doing it that way that it just slipped our minds to tell you. Really." Sure. I'll get you later. So while the others were changing, Brandy and I left to walk to her house.

As we walked, Brandy looked at me and smiled her gorgeous smile. "You really are being sweet about this, Doug. Most guys would have run away or crumbled or something, but you hung in there. I like the Dottie I see and the Doug that's inside her, too." She reached over and kissed my cheek. This is my day for blushing.

Inside, she introduced me to her mom as Dottie from Cleveland. Then we went upstairs. Brandy rummaged through a bottom dresser drawer. I was still hoping for jeans or shorts when she tossed me something bright pink. It was a short-sleeved jumpsuit, with a picture of Jessica Rabbit monogrammed on the left shirt pocket.

"Don't worry about getting it dirty," she said. "I don't wear it anymore. Go into the bathroom and change." There went my hopes of seeing Brandy again in her underwear. I did as I was told. The suit was a bit snug in the waist and loose at the hips, but basically it fit okay. I went back to the room, carrying my Sunday clothes draped over my arm. Brandy, already changed into shorts and blouse, looked me over with a critical eye and nodded. Then she sat on the bed. "Let's hold feet," she grinned, as she raised her bare foot. I sat down and placed mine on hers, sole to sole. "Close enough. I have an old pair of sneakers here that are ripped on the side. My foot's narrower than yours, but if we rip the sides just a little more, they'll probably fit. You can keep them, too." Then she went to rummage in her closet. Sure enough, she pulled out some girl's athletic shoes, white with a narrow rose-pink stripe. Some anklets with pink trim at the top went with them. The shoes were a little tight, but okay. She tossed me a ball glove. "Now, Dottie, go freshen up your lipstick, and we'll go play ball." Now that was something I'd never done to prepare for a ball game. Then again, I'd never been a vision in pink before.

When we got to the scruffy little ball diamond, the rest of the Gang of Six gathered around Brandy, Cindy, and me for a group hug and cheer. Donna grinned at me and said, "Pink's your color. You should wear it more often." Yeah. Right. I slipped on my pink vest and ball cap.

The Pink Panthers wasn't made up of just teenagers. No, we also had nine-year-old twins, some ladies in their twenties and thirties, and a few old enough to be my mom. As the team started warm-ups, I started to wonder. Since I'm a decent baseball player as a boy, would they get suspicious of me if I played up to my regular game? The competitor in me didn't want to fake it too badly, and play lousy. I had too much pride for that. As we tossed the softball, I discovered that the size of the ball took some getting used to. It was harder to get my hand around, especially with my longer nails getting in the way. That made my catches and throws a bit more tentative. Then when I batted, I had a hard time adjusting to the ball dropping from out of the sky at me. The lobbing pitch was hard to judge. So on my first two swings, I circulated a lot of air and got a few laughs from my cheering section. Our opposing team was from a Pentecostal church. That made me a little nervous, because I thought they might start speaking in tongues or something. They didn't. They acted pretty much like the Baptist team, a bunch of women out to enjoy themselves on a nice summer day.

As the game went on, I played better. After I made a good fielding play in the third inning, the Baptist preacher asked if I had a church home, because he would like me to become a Baptist and join the team. I told him that I did, and no thank you. It was a no-brainer decision, since his son was leering in the background. Actually, when he asked me what church I went to, I remembered at the last minute that I was supposed to be visiting from out of town. It was a good thing, too. If he had asked our pastor about a teen from my church named Dottie Dawson, things might get complicated.

When the game ended, my Jessica Rabbit jumpsuit was more brownish-orange from the dirt than it was yellow. All of us from our group who had played in the game hugged each other after we were through. The girls who didn't play hugged us too, but a bit more squeamishly.

After that, we stopped at the ice cream shop, and I found myself giggling, laughing, and teasing along with the rest of the girls. Donna, just to thank me for being a good sport, even paid for my chocolate sundae. "You had fun, didn't you, Dottie?" she asked me in front of everybody.

"Yeah, sure, it was different, anyway." I admitted. "But remember--no telling or teasing!"

Leese grinned, "Absolutely not. But like Mr. Rogers, I like you just the way you are.

"You like me as a pink dirtball with dotted fingernails, huh?" I grinned.

"Sure," Letitia said. "We all do. And I can't speak for everybody here, but maybe next time you're in town, you could come to one of our other weekends." Now there was an offer.

Cindy chimed in. "Maybe we could have a kid sister weekend! Letitia, you could bring Rosella and Maria, Jennifer could bring Bobbi, and I could bring Charlotte."

Everybody giggled. "Uh, you don't mean Rob and Chuck, do you?" I whispered.

"Of course I mean them," Cindy laughed. "Your makeover was so much fun, that we could try it on them, too!" I seriously doubted it. Rob was a year older than I was, and was real tall with a craggy face. Chuck, a year younger, was wide, solid, square-faced, and would probably end up on the interior line of the football team when he grew older.

 

EPILOGUE

As the clock struck 7, I was in jeans and tee-shirt again. All the girls had gone their separate ways. I had showered, and the waves had come out of my hair. My nails were still colored and dotted, though, and I had impishly put the clip-on earrings back on my lobes.

Donna pointed to the clock and said, "You'd better get back to being a boy now, Dougie. Mom and dad were planning to be back by 7:30 or 8:00. Neither of us would want to have to explain why they have another daughter. But I do understand why you've been putting it off," she smiled.

"Have I ever told you that you were the most understanding, wonderful sister in all the world?" I asked. "Thanks for giving me such a great weekend. But do you suppose anybody suspected?"

"I'm not sure," Donna admitted. "I doubt that anybody realizes that you and I worked together to set the whole thing up. Some of them might wonder why you didn't fight back more. But they liked you so much as Dottie that they won't give you a hard time about it--well, maybe not too hard a time. And they won't tell anybody else even if they do suspect that this was what you wanted--to try being one of the girls for a weekend."

Slowly, reluctantly, I began removing the nail extensions. "What was it? Three weeks ago? I had spent most of my allowance and I asked you if I could borrow five dollars so I could go to the movies with Jeff. You were doing your nails at the time."

"And you were staring, like it was the most marvelous thing you’d ever seen. So I decided to see how much you wanted the money—and how interested you were in girl’s stuff—by offering a deal."

"Yeah. If I wanted the money, I’d have to wear an old pair of your panties and paint my toenails, and leave them both on for the whole weekend. It scared me to death, but it sounded like something I don’t know—that I really wanted to try." At least the nail extensions weren’t hard to get off. As soon as I got done with them, I’d wipe off the polish from the edges of my own fingernails, and from my toenails.

"You really telegraphed your eagerness when you started pulling off your socks and shoes. I asked if you would rather be a girl than a boy, and you said that you didn’t know—but you’d like to try it out sometime, not just to put on girl’s clothes, but to hang out with girls and do girl stuff. I knew that we were planning this weekend, and it just seemed like a good chance to let you have your wish. I bet you’d do it again, too."

I blushed and smiled. "Maybe. It was fun. It definitely was different. Thanks for everything, Donna. You’re a great older sister."

"And you’re a great kid sister, Dottie."

 

THE END

 

 

© 2000
The above work is copyrighted material. Anyone wishing to copy, archive, or re-post this story must contact the author for permission.