Fourth Grade            by: Sarah Dechand

I was kind of scared shuffling into school on the first day of fourth grade. I had heard all the rumors about Ms. Rohrbaugh, my future teacher , how she disliked all the boys and made the girls her favorites, and worse, how she punished the kids in her class. I mean, I had known some of the kids in her class, and they were miserable all the time. Until summer vacation, that is.

Just the other day I had been playing soccer with Mike Giffen and Donald Slack, who had endured a year of the dread Rohrbaugh and survived. They were telling me that I’d better behave or I’d get my knuckles whacked by the Rohrbaugh ruler - or worse. And when I asked, "Like What?" Donald just said: "You don’t want to know."

So I shuffled on into school, past the display cases and the welcome banners and made a right down the hall to Ms. Rohrbaugh’s classroom. She was seated in front of the room, her graying hair hanging loosely around her face. When she looked up from her book, smiling and asking me my name, I noticed a sharp tooth on one side of her mouth. It was jagged and pointed and scary.

"Robert" I said.

"Are you Merton? Or are you Robert Masted?" she asked, "Two of you this year, and both with ‘M’!"

"Masted," I said.

"Do you have a sister named Victoria?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Oh, I think I had her a few years ago. Did she tell you about me?"

"A little."

As a matter of fact, my sister Victoria had been in Ms. Rohrbaugh’s class 4 years ago and enjoyed it. Not that I had asked for her opinion, though. My sister and I didn’t get along well at all. She would bully me and try to boss me around, because she was older. She would always try to con me into playing with her. But playing with Victoria was about as much fun as cold eggs, so I avoided her at all costs.

So I went to my assigned seat between John Lawrence and Robby Merton and waited for the bell to ring. She had been pretty nice, I thought, but then nice old Ms. Clark last year turned out to be a real pain.

The bell rang and Ms. Rohrbaugh went to the blackboard and wrote her name. She appeared young, despite the greying hair, and she wore black pants and a cream colored blouse, which I thought was unusual, since most teachers wore dresses. She turned and began to address the class.

"Hello, Class. I am Ms. Rohrbaugh, and no doubt some of you may have already heard a little bit about me. It’s true that I am strict and that I do punish those who break the rules, but it’s also true that the girls ... and boys in my classes do very well in the 5th grade and middle school. And I also have found that my classes are very well behaved.

"So now I want to spend a moment with you to go over the rules of this classroom. The first and most important rule is that you must obey your teacher. Does everyone understand?"

"Yes," we all said, not at the same time, but nodding our heads.

She repeated the usual list of rules: No talking out of turn, no making a mess, put things back where you find them, turn in your homework when asked, don’t chew gum, no hurting any other kids, no spitting, no making rude noises.

Johnny Lawrence raised his hand and said: "Does that mean we can’t go ‘pfffffffrrrrhhhrrrtt!’" making the fart noise and laughing. We all started laughing too. Except some girls, who pretended to be disgusted and made faces.

Ms. Rohrbaugh smiled and I caught a look at her pointy tooth and I was scared again. She continued. "Actually, I was just about to get to the punishments. Now, class, what rules did this young man just break?" Several girls raised their hands. None of the boys did. She called on the girls one by one.

"He made rude noises!" said Kelly Hunt

"Correct!" said the teacher.

"He talked out of turn!" said Wendy Steadman.

"He sure did." said Ms. Rohrbaugh

"He spit!" said Mary Dieter

"So he did!" said the teacher. "Anybody else?" she paused.

"He did break one other rule, class. Does anybody know which? Girls?" she paused again.

"Class this young man broke the most important rule. Do you remember which one?" she paused, and when no one responded, she said: "Class, this boy did not obey the teacher. That is the first and most important rule. OBEY THE TEACHER.

"Now when boys...and girls break the rules, they will be punished, just as they would be punished in every class." Her tooth seemed to gleam as she placed her hands on her hips and smiled broadly. She leaned forward as she walked towards the class. "You have all been given 100 points in my book. No one will be promoted to Fifth grade unless they have 100 points at the end of the year. If you behave and obey all the rules, and obey me, you will not lose any points and you will be promoted to Fifth grade. If you disobey me and break the rules and misbehave, you will not have 100 points at the end of the year, and you will have to repeat Fourth grade. - Simple enough, right?"

As before, we nodded and babbled our reply disjointedly and out of time, "rirightrightight."

"O.K., young man, Robert, uh, Masted, will you please tell the class about punishments?"

I was on the spot. I had never been one to talk in class, although I often knew what to say. The other kids teased me alot, but then, lots of kids got teased. I took a deep breath and gave it the old 4th grade try.

"You said that if we behaved, we would get to go on to Fifth grade, but if we misbehave, we have to repeat Fourth grade."

"Good," said Ms. Rohrbaugh, but I had not finished.

"And you have 100 points but if you misbehave you don’t have 100 points."

"Very good," said Ms. Rohrbaugh, but I had not finished.

"But Ms. Rohrbaugh, I don’t understand how you get to have 100 points to begin with... I mean, why does it start with 100? Isn’t that kind of stupid?"

Ms. Rohrbaugh’s face was red. She still smiled, but she seemed a bit shaky, unsteady, and the tooth was clenched tightly against her lips, making a small white spot. "Robert. Robert Masted." She said my name.

I was really, really, scared. My stomach was in knots, but at the same time, I felt light, like when you go over a bump in a car, or when you’re flying in a plane and you hit turbulence. Reflexively, I stood up. My eyes seemed to roll back into the dreamland of my head. I could not believe I had angered the teacher so much, the dreaded Ms. Rohrbaugh, and on the first day of school.

It was the laughter of my classmates that brought me back. I felt a warm sensation on my upper left thigh, near my crotch, and I looked down at my blue pleated pants to see the expanding dark splotch where I had wet myself.

"Robert, you might as well start with 0 points," said Ms. Rohrbaugh, "Come on now, let’s get you cleaned up. As for the rest of you, sit quietly until I get back."

Then, looking at Johnny Lawrence, she said, "and you, young man who made the rude noises, don’t think I’ve forgotten about what you did."

*****

As we walked down the hall together, each step a bigger humiliation than the last, my wet pants drooping lower and feeling heavier, Ms. Rohrbaugh laid it on the line for me.

"Robert," she said, "I don’t know what kind of boy you are. I haven’t had the chance to talk to any of your old teachers about you, nor have I met any of your parents. Mr. Denmark may or may not hear about this little incident, but, I will ask him about your behavioral record."

"But, I don’t have-" I started to say

"Don’t interrupt," she continued, "Now do you have this problem regularly? Do you still wet yourself? Do you wet your bed at night? Do your parents know?"

I had never had the "problem" before, and I hadn’t wet the bed since I was about 3, over half a lifetime ago, so my parents certainly didn’t know. So I said "No, this is the first time."

"I see," said Ms. Rohrbaugh. "and what do the other kids think of you? Do they call you names like ‘baby’ or ‘sissy?’"

"NO!" I said. "I get along o.k. with most of the other kids."

"Hmm-hmm." said Ms. Rohrbaugh.

By then we were almost to the principal’s office. I knew that if we went in to see Mr. Denmark, it would be the beginning of a series of very embarrassing events, involving my parents, the nurse, Ms. Rohrbaugh, and whoever else. I desperately didn’t want anyone to think that I had a problem.

"O.K., We’ll go in here." said my teacher pointing to the teachers’ lounge. "We’ll get you changed now, and we won’t have to see Mr. Denmark, but you have to promise to do me a few favors, O.K.?"

Of course, I was so relieved at not having to deal with the principal that I would have agreed to anything at that moment.

"Take off your clothes. I have some extra clothes here that you can wear"

I gladly took off my pants because they were soaked, but I hesitated to take off my damp underwear.

"Go on, Robert, its nothing new to me. I’m not interested in seeing you naked, just cleaned up," she said, turning towards the sink.

I took off my underpants, and she handed me a warm, damp sponge, which I used to clean my self off. Next she handed me a pair of very thick white cotton underpants with little pink rosebuds and lace around the legs and waist and a pair of stretchy bright red pants, no they were more like overalls, with two suspender straps that crossed in the back. They had no pockets and two zippers, one on each side, with big white buttons at the waist, where the suspenders were attached.

I was astonished, and blurted "But these are for girls!"

Ms. Rohrbaugh smiled gently, her sharp tooth catching the light, and said, "No, Robert, they’re for little boys who unfortunately wet themselves on the first day of school. Now just put them on. It’s only ‘til this afternoon, when your pants and underpants dry."

I did as I was told, remembering that the most important rule is: Always Obey the Teacher. I put on the thick, rose-printed lacy underpants and stepped into the pants with two zippers. It was awkward, trying to zip up the zippers on the side, and harder still to button the pants, so Ms. Rohrbaugh helped me, saying, "Oh, you didn’t tuck in your shirt, here, let me."

We walked back down the hall together, and I was grateful that I didn’t have to go to the principal’s office, but I wasn’t sure I was happy to be facing the world wearing stretchy red pants with suspenders over my nice light blue first-day-of school button-down shirt.

It felt funny, wearing the thick underwear, and the pants were not cut loose, the way I was used to. They were kind of tight, and they came up past my belly button, and it was weird not having the zipper in front.

The class was still pretty quiet, considering the amount of time we had been gone. I would guess that most of the other kids were glad they weren’t in my shoes. I bowed my head so that I wouldn’t have to look at the other kids when I stood in the doorway, with Ms. Rohrbaugh behind me, but I saw Willie Mickerson look at me and just shake his head.

Ms. Rohrbaugh looked up and clapped to get everyone’s attention. "Attention, class! Attention! Robert had an accident today. Now, those of you who know him from last year and before *know* he’s not a sissy or a baby, and I know that, despite what happened, Robert is not the kind of boy who would *wet his pants on the first day of school*, so none of you will make fun of Robert today, or you will LOSE POINTS! Is that clear?"

The class nodded, and said not in unison, "Yes."

"Now, Robert, you have lost 5 points for your accident, but the embarrassment of your situation, having to wear those pants while yours dry out, is punishment enough to be worth 5 points, so you still have 100 points."

"Yes, teacher." I said.

"That’s Ms. Rohrbaugh, young man."

"Yes, Ms. Rohrbaugh."

"Now go sit down."

As I walked slowly back to my seat, I felt relieved that I hadn’t lost any points, after all, even though I did’t exactly understand what points meant.

"But as for you, young man," she continued, turning her attention to Johnny Lawrence, "You started it all by breaking all those rules. Girls, how many rules did this young man break?"

She called on Vicky Bell, wearing a fluffy pink first-day-of school dress with a lace collar and puffy sleeves with pink tights who said, "He broke four rules, Ms. Rohrbaugh!"

"Four Rules!" exclaimed Ms. Rohrbaugh, "What is your name, young man?"

"John Lawrence," he said, turning his head away and making a face, which was almost a smile, except for the fear in Johnny’s eyes.

"John Lawrence, you’ve just lost 4 points! Would you like to earn them back, so you can go to Fifth Grade next year?" she said, moving closer to him and raising a forefinger, then leaning over and shaking it in his face, which started to turn red as he twisted his neck even further around, so that he was looking back over his shoulder at the class rather than facing her.

"Answer me, John Lawrence!"

"Y-y-yes," he said.

"You would? Well, I’ll tell you. If you behave yourself for four days, and OBEY THE TEACHER and the teacher’s rules, you will have earned back your four points."

"Was that it?" I thought. "Would he really get back his four points just by simply behaving?"

Confusedly, Johnny walked back to his seat, which was right next to mine. He was scared-looking, but also relieved. He felt lucky that the punishment wasn’t worse, but he knew that he was in danger of misbehaving in the next four days. For one, he was about to start laughing hysterically. For another, he was looking right at me in my bright red girl’s pants with the big white buttons. He made it to his seat intact, but I felt like crawling into a hole.

Then suddenly, after things had settled down a bit, and Ms. Rohrbaugh was explaining a handout to the class, Johnny started to laugh hysterically.

"John Lawrence! I thought you would certainly behave after I warned you! I let you off easy, because I thought you would certainly behave." She paused for a moment, gesturing at Johnny, who was no longer laughing. "I think you’ll find it easier to behave if you sit up here in the front row," she said pointing to the seat next to Vicky Bell’s seat. Johnny slumped as he walked slowly forward.

"I’m sorry, Ms. Rohrbaugh, I was just thinking about Masted’s red..." mumbled Johnny before Ms. Rohrbaugh cut him off sharply.

"I don’t want to hear your excuses. Now here, John Lawrence, I want you to wear this little bow-tie to remind you of how good boys behave," she said as johnny approached. She buttoned the top button of his shirt, straightened his collar, and put the clip-on bow-tie on him. It was yellow, with red and green and blue flowers, kind of ‘psychedelic.’ Johnny sat down, tugging at his shirt collar.

The rest of the day was very quiet, very orderly.

******

I had to stay after class to get my clothes back from Ms. Rohrbaugh. Fortunately, I walked to and from school, so my mom didn’t have to be called and informed of my situation.

After the other pupils had been dismissed, we left the classroom together and went to the teachers’ lounge, where my pants had been hung up to dry. Ms. Rohrbaugh took them down and handed them to me. They were still a little damp, but I could make it home O.K. in them.

I struggled with the buttons and zippers of the red girls’ pants. Earlier in the day, I had almost had a double disaster when I went to the boys room and discovered that I could barely get them off and put them back on. This time, though, I was motivated to get out of them by the thought of putting on my good old blue pants.

Ms. Rohrbaugh asked, "Robert, aside from your accident, how did you like the first day of class?"

"It was O.K., I guess." I Said, fumbling with the button.

"Well, do you think I’m strict, or mean?"

"nuh-uh..." I shook my head.

"Do you think I’m fair? I mean, I could have really got you in big trouble, but I didn’t. If I had taken you in to see Mr. Denmark, you might have had to see the psychologist, or take some special tests, or had conferences with Mr. Denmark, me, and your parents, and everyone would know about your problems."

"You’re fair," I said weakly, since I was still ashamed of my accident earlier, and I felt very self-conscious in the red pants.

Just as I began to un-button the red pants, the door to the outer part of the teachers’ lounge opened, and Ms. Rohrbaugh put her finger to her mouth, saying "shush," and pointed to a door on the other side of the room. I understood that I was supposed to get out of the teachers’ lounge as quickly and quietly as possible, before whoever it was came into the lounge and discovered us.

It was only after I went through the door that I discovered my bad mistake. I had left my pants and underpants in the teachers’ lounge. And the door was one of those that has the knob only on one side. I was stuck outside wearing the red girls’ pants with suspenders.

I walked home really carefully, cutting through everybody’s back yard and avoiding spots where I guessed that my classmates would be playing. Luckily, I made it back un-detected. Unluckily, since Victoria was in middle school, which started and ended earlier than elementary school, she was home when I returned.

"So, did you enjoy Ms. Rohrbaugh’s class?" asked my sister as I entered. Then she caught sight of me in the red pants.

"Oh Robert, you look so cute in your red pants! I didn’t know you had any like that. You know, I used to have a pair like that!"

"Shut up!"

"Oh no, you shut up! You got into trouble at school today, otherwise Ms. Rohrbaugh wouldn’t have made you wear those pants...unless those are actually my old pants that you’re wearing, Robert."
"I didn’t do anything wrong," I screamed at her as loud as I could.

"So why did you decide wear MY old red pants to school today, huh, Robert?"

"But I didn’t!" I protested,

"Oh, well we’ll see about that. Come on, lets go down to the basement and look."

I knew that I hadn’t "borrowed" my sister’s pants, but I also knew that I didn’t want anyone to know how I had shamefully wet my pants at school. Ms. Rohrbaugh had meant to be helpful, hadn’t she? But now, I was caught in a catch 22. Going down into the basement with my big sister with my mother out of the house is something I would never usually do, but this time, I followed. I was right, and I knew that when Victoria found her stupid red pants, it would prove my innocence.

Unfortunately, Victoria didn’t find her red pants. She turned and looked at me with real menace in her eyes. "So you borrowed my pants without asking, you twerp. Now you’re really going to get it!" she said as she shoved me in the chest so hard that I fell onto the floor. She was on top of me in a second, pinning my arms to my side with her legs. Her jeans skirt rode up to reveal her white cotton underwear. I could not escape, no matter how hard I writhed and squirmed.

Reaching over to the box of old clothes, she snarled "From now on, I get to choose what you wear. Borrow my clothes without asking!" She seemed to have found something in the box, because she started roughly unbuttoning my shirt, pulling it out of my pants and tossing it to the side. Then she expertly unbuttoned the large buttons on the pants and pulled down the two zippers. I was helpless to stop her.

She laughed gleefully when she saw the pink rose-bud panties Ms. Rohrbaugh had given me. "You were telling the truth, weren’t you Robin! These really aren’t my pants. I’m sure of it now, because in all my life, I never had to wear a pair of panties like those little pink ones with lace and rosebuds. Now I’m going to let you go, but you have to promise to do what I say."

I promised, but when she let me go, I bolted for the stairs. Unfortunately, Victoria was faster than me, and she grabbed me before I could get up to the top of the stairs to slam the door on her. I was soon back on the floor, with my arms pinned to my sides. Victoria slapped my face hard a few times until I started to cry. "Try and run away like that again and I’ll really pound you, crybaby! I’m going to let you get up again, but this time, do it nice and slow."

I believed her threat, and slowly, I sat up.

She had selected a frilly white blouse with a round collar and puffed sleeves which buttoned in the back for me to wear. I put my arms through the sleeves and she buttoned the buttons, one by one. As she fastened the top button, she said "I’ll bet you can’t even take this blouse off yourself." I reached around to try to unbutton the blouse to no avail. I was just too clumsy to fuss with the buttons.

Victoria pulled the suspenders over my shoulder and zipped and buttoned the red pants. My white socks were replaced by little ankle socks with lace trim, and Victoria found a pair of black patent leather mary-janes for me. To complete the outfit, she tied a little red bow around my neck. "Now don’t you look precious, ROBIN," She said. "Just wait ‘til mom gets a look at you. You look so cute, she might even let me dress you for school! You’d really hate that wouldn’t you?"

I said nothing. What could I say. As I stood there in the little sissy outfit I could only think this was easily the worst day of my life.

In a previous episode, our hero began 4th Grade in the class of the notoriously strict Ms. Rohrbaugh. She controls the classroom by awarding each student 100 points and subtracting points for bad behavior. At the end of the year, those students with less than 100 points have to repeat 4th grade, so students are eager to behave every day or risk losing points.

Unfortunately, our hero has an accident on the first day of 4th Grade, wetting his pants. His strict teacher is prepared for such an occasion and together, they go down to the teachers’ lounge, where she takes away his sopping wet pants and underpants and gives him some clothes to wear for the day. Our hero is grateful, since the principal is not told of his outrageous behavior, and his mom will not be notified. But alas! The clothes are girls’ pants and underpants, and Robert is ashamed, but thanks to the strict admonition of the teacher, the other students leave him alone.

At the end of the day, due to some other unfortunate circumstances, Robert is unable to recover his now dry clothes, and is left to return home dressed in the red stretchy girls’ pants with suspenders. He avoids being seen by the other kids, but when he returns home, he falls into the clutches of his mean older sister, who forces him into still more girls’ clothes, adding a pretty camisole, blouse, socks, shoes, and a bow around his neck. He realizes that he is too clumsy to take off the blouse, since it buttons in the back. In his thouroughly sissified state, he must remain indoors instead of playing with his friends on the beautiful September day.

His mother returns home, but instead of helping him, she tells him to help himself. Unfortunately, after freeing himself with the assistance of a scissors, he neglects to put the scissors away. When mom steps on the scissors and hurts her foot, and when she learns of Robert’s outrageous misbehavior at school, she punishes him by taking away the priviledge of choosing his own clothes and giving it to his mean older sister.

 

*******

Victoria smiled a chilling smile.

"So, ROBIN, are you ready for bed? I have just the thing for you. Come on. I can't wait to see you in this!" She grabbed me by the wrist. The way I saw it, I could fight and lose, or I could just go along. I went and resolved not to come home after school tomorrow. I couldn't bear to be so seriously punished for a whole week.

Up in Victoria's room, I was given a pair of pink panties to put on. I sat on the bed while she went through her drawers and pattered on idly.

"You know, there was a boy in my 4th Grade class who wound up having to be dressed as a girl for most of the school year. I wonder if that's what Ms. Rohrbaugh has in mind for you?

Robert, I'm serious, did anyone else get punished like you today?"

So I told her about John Lawrence having to wear the bow-tie.

Victoria thought for a minute and then explained "Well, she might have it in for John Lawrence, but I bet you’re the one she’s going to get this year. She’s always really mean to at least one kid in every class. The year before me it was Ronald Foster - I heard she beat his butt so hard he couldn’t sit down for a week!"

"Yeah, and last year Donald Slack said she made him miss recess for a whole month, in April, when it was nice out, he had to stay in and vacuum the floor, clean the blackboards and dust the shelves." I added.

"Right," said Victoria, "Well, I’ll tell you, there was a boy in my class named Ray. He was a smart kid, he’d skipped 2nd grade, so he was younger than the rest of the kids. The first day of class in 4th grade, some of us got together and played a prank on him. See he was a kind of nasty little kid and was always, you know, trying to show off how much smarter he was than all the rest of us, so we wanted to get even with him. So anyway, on the first day of 4th grade, we waited for him as he walked to school, and pushed him in the dirt."

"Why’d you do that?" I asked

"Well, it was well known that our teacher, you know, Ms. Rohrbaugh, was strict, so we figured that if we could put Ray on her bad side, then he’d stop being such a show-off. So we pushed him in the dirt and told him to watch out, and behave, otherwise there’d be trouble. Then we left him there in the dirt, and ran to class ‘cause we didn’t want to be late.

"Of course, Little Ray was late to class that day, and you know how Ms. Rohrbaugh lays down the law at the beginning of class and talks about points and punishments and all that?"

"Yeah" I said

"Well he walked in right in the middle of her talk." The way Victoria described the scene, it was almost as if I had seen it myself.

"What’s your name little boy? Are you in this class?" said Ms. Rohrbaugh

Ray could barely speak "Ray Little, ma’am"

"What was that? Ray Little was it? Hmm, yes you are in this class. Well Ray Little, you are late and you are filthy. Class, as I told you, you must not come to class late, and you should be clean when you come to class. If you are late and if you are not clean, you will lose points. The later you are, the more points you lose, and the dirtier you are, the more points you lose. Do you understand?"

"Yes.." said thirty new 4th graders, not in unison. They had been drilled on the point system by Ms. Rohrbaugh.

"Now Ray Little. What am I going to do about you? You are filthy diry and we have our class pictures today. What will your mother say when she sees her dirty little boy in his school pictures? No no. We must get you cleaned up before 11:20, when we are scheduled to have our pictures taken. But in the mean time, I think that it’s only fair that you lose 5 points for being dirty and late."

"But Ms. Rohrbaugh, how can I get back the points?" cried Ray.

"Ray Little do not speak unless you are called upon. You’ve just lost another point." said Ms. Rohrbaugh. But she continued: "Class, it’s only fair that you be given the opportunity to earn back points, so I will award one point for a day of good behavior. Of course, I will also help you to earn back your points, as you’ll soon see. I like to see my students move on to the fifth grade and beyond and do really well.

"So Ray Little, you go back there to the sink and wash up. We’ll worry about your clothes later."

Victoria continued her tale:

At 11:15, Ms. Rohrbaugh had the class line up in alphabetical order for their pictures and led them down to the multi-purpose room, where the photographer had set up on the stage. She instructed the children to do as the photographer asked, remain quiet, and wait in the multi-purpose room quietly along the wall while the others were photographed. Then she whispered something to Ray, and they left the room.

About 5 minutes later, Ms. Rohrbaugh returned. Behind her, Ray walked into the Multi-purpose room, crimson with shame. His hair, normally loose and tousled, though long for a boy, had been pulled back tight and sleek against his head into a pony tail tied with a yellow ribbon, so tight that the white of his scalp showed. His face, scrubbed clean floated on a lace trimmed rounded collar, which was attached to a frothy yellow dress with short puffed sleeves and a ruffled white pinafore. The dress was short, above the knee, and his legs were bare. On his feet he wore lace trimmed anklet socks and white patent leather shoes with a strap that buckled across the top. He trembled as he looked around the room, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

Fortunately for Ray, most of the kids were too shocked to actually say anything, but about half of them covered their mouths and stared while the other half shook their heads and turned away.

Ms. Rohrbaugh hurried the humiliated little boy to his place in line, pulling, then pushing him along by his elbow. He took his place in front of Victoria, who noted the 12 tiny buttons that closed the back of the dress and the large white bow of the pinafore so carefully arranged and perfectly straight.

Ms. Rohrbaugh whispered to Victoria: "I told him to sit with his legs together when he’s up on stage, but I want you to remind him, please."

Victoria nodded, not sure of how to react. Her plan to put Ray Little in his place had worked, and then some. As they moved up the steps at the side of the stage, Ray started to turn, as if to leave, but he met the stern face of Victoria Masted, who’d got him into this awful situation to begin with. Victoria grabbed his upper arm and helped him take the last step up onto the stage. "Sit with your legs together," she instructed.

He slowly walked across the stage at the front of the room, in front of all his classmates, over to the chair set up in front of the screen and did not forget to sit with his legs together, holding down his skirt, stiff with so many crinolines.

 

The photographer looked down at the well-scrubbed little girl who sat before him. She seemed spooked, her face drawn, and tight. She would need to be helped to a smile, yet another opportunity for the photographer to try out the tricks that all his years of photographing little children had taught him.

Victoria could hear him saying gently, in the friendliest voice he could manage:

"You look so nice today, now, look over here at my finger, won’t you smile so you can have a nice picture to give to your folks? Such a pretty dress you’re wearing, dear. That’s right, look over this way, I know you’ll smile..."

But to Ray, the voice of the photographer was neither soft nor gentle. It roared over him and confused him, he did not know whether to trust it or not, and so he opened his mouth slightly.

It was not a smile, but the photographer knew that it was the best he would get from this one, and he pressed the bulb, setting off the flash.

Afterwards, Ray, nearly blind, walked down the stairs at the other side of the stage, his skirt lightly brushing his legs.

Later that day, Ms. Rohrbaugh warned the class not to tease Ray at the risk of losing points. As for Ray, if he behaved for the rest of the day, he would recover 3 of his 6 lost points.

******

"So what happened?" I asked, "Did he have to wear the dress all day?"

"Well actually, he had to wear a dress for most of the school year. None of the kids in my class really gave him a problem about it, although the younger kids in his old class teased him a bit. They say his mom kind of liked having another little girl in the house, and he didn’t really mind all that much. I don’t know what happened to him though. They moved out after 4th Grade."

"No way!" I could not believe that. "You mean his mom actually went out and bought him a bunch of girls’ clothes and stuff and made him wear it all the time?"

"Well, he had a sister who was a couple of years older, so they didn’t have to buy him all that much stuff"

"And the school let them do it to him?"

"Yeah. Robin, I can’t let you sit there only in your panties. Why don’t you put this on?" instructed Victoria. She held out a light blue sleep set printed with bunches of yellow flowers. It consisted of a pair of puffy shorts with elastic at the waist and ruffle-trimmed lace leg holes and a matching top.

Resigned, I pulled on the shorts and put the top on. I fumbled with the buttons, since they were on the wrong side, so Victoria came over and buttoned it up to the chin for me. It had a round lace trimmed collar, and she found a lacy blue bow to tie at the neck. The top did not quite come down to the end of the puffy shorts, exposing the lace and ruffles at the leg holes.

"YOU ARE ADORABLE!" declared Victoria. "Let’s go show Mom."

I confess that I felt a bit like little Ray being led into the multi-purpose room in his new dress as Victoria grabbed my wrist and led me back downstairs into the kitchen.

"Oh, Robert dear, you look so cute," said my mother, "but Victoria, isn’t it a little early to be dressed for bed?"

Mom had a point. It was only 8 o’clock. So Victoria just shrugged her shoulders and grabbed my elbow and led me back upstairs. I guessed that I was to be subjected to yet another outfit for dinner, but it was just the same as before, the stretchy red pants with two zippers and suspenders and all that came with it, the frilly socks and little buckle shoes and the camisole, except that this time, Victoria gave me a different blouse to wear, a soft yellow one with long full sleeves and pleats in the front and a straight stand up collar.

After dinner and the usual hour and a half of TV, it was time for sleep. I was put into the blue sleep set I had modeled earlier that evening, and went off to bed. My sleep was bothered by the strangest dreams:

There I was, in school, and Ms. Rohrbaugh was my teacher. She was explaining to me that I could earn back points by wearing this pair of lacy ankle socks, so I put them on. Then gradually, I was getting into more trouble and needed more and more assistance with my behavior, but I didn’t know what I had done to deserve punishment. But then it occurred to me that it was because I wasn’t wearing the socks properly, or the hair ribbons, or the panties. So I required more and more special clothing to assure my compliance with the rules until, finally, I had to be humiliated by wearing a short frilly white dress with red polka-dots and matching bloomers. And the special frilly underwear was too easily visible to the other kids, who laughed and laughed. Oh the shame!

I awoke, the sleep set drenched in sweat, and try as I might, I couldn’t get back to sleep until just before dawn. I tossed and turned, the sleepset pulling this way and that across my body, fitting me in a way that I was not used to, an ever present reminder that I was in trouble.

I must have looked awful when mom came in to wake me up, because she said for me to go back to sleep, and that it was o.k. to miss school that day, and that she would get someone to stay with me.

When I awoke, the sun was bright in the sky. I walked out of my room, down the hall to the bathroom, still dressed in the lace trimmed sleep set. Then I heard a woman call: "Robin? Are you awake, dear?"

"Yeah." I said.

As I peed, I heard her coming up the stairs. I realized that I was still dressed up like a little girl. I couldn’t let the babysitter see me like this! Frantically, I tried to pee faster. In a moment, she reached the top of the stairs. As she walked down the hall I shook off the last drops and had just managed to start pulling off the shorts when she just CAME INTO THE BATHROOM WITHOUT EVEN KNOCKING! I could have died on the spot.

"Well Rob, your mom was right. You certainly are cute."

 

It was Mrs. Beechwood, one of Mom’s friends from work who had just returned from the hospital after a long illness. I could have died on the spot, standing there in the little frilly sleep set top with the bow tied around my neck and the shorts around my ankles.

"Your mother asked me to come by and look in on you today, so here I am."

I moved quickly to untie the bow, but in my haste, I accidently made the knot tighter. Now I was really stuck. I made for my room, but it was not easy to run with sleep-bloomers around my ankles, and old Mrs. Beechwood wouldn’t let me pass anyway. She grabbed me around the waist and picked me up over her hip, and with amazing swiftness brought her fat hand down hard on my bare butt one two three four five six seven times in rapid succession. It was enough to make me cry.

"Now Robert, that is no way to behave." She thundered. "If you are really sick, you had better go straight back to bed. So put your little pants back on and march back to the bedroom."

I did as I was asked. Mrs. Beechwood pointed to my sister Victoria’s room, and said: "go in." Then I saw what had been laid out on the bed. It was (of course) flowered cotton panties and a white vest with a little bow in front. It was a pink overall and a white blouse. The overalls had no fly and were printed with thin white stripes and clusters of flowers. The blouse had a frilly rounded collar and buttoned in the back. I couldn’t bear to think that I would have to go through the day in that.

So I slammed the door in Mrs. Beechwood’s face, and as she howled down the hall to the bathroom, I scrambled to escape.

Racing back to my room, I ripped off the sleep set and hurriedly put on my school clothes. My own school clothes, thank you, and split for school as fast as I could. It only dawned on me as I approached the quiet school that I had made a terrible mistake.

Now a school full of kids seems to be a very quiet place at about 9:30 in the morning. That’s because all of the kids are sitting in classrooms. So a child alone walking to school is conspicuous at that hour, and being that child, I realized that I was, yes, in trouble. I was in trouble with my mom and my mom’s friend for my bad behavior. I was in trouble with my sister just like I had been pretty much since the day I was born. Worst of all, I was in trouble with the dreaded Ms. Rohrbaugh. I was definitely going to be losing points this time, and earning them back would be no picnic. So I turned around and ran as fast as I could away from school.

Unfortunately for me, I had been detected by Mr. Denmark, the principal, as he looked out the window at precisely the wrong time. His voice soon echoed in my ears: "Boy! Get back here this instant! Obey at once, do you hear!"

I heard all right and turned around and put wrong foot after wrong foot all the way back to the school. Mr. Denmark was waiting for me, and his expression wasn’t totally angry. He actually smiled and patted me on the back as he escorted me to the office, asking me my name and what I was doing. Of course, there was no way I could explain myself. What was I doing? Going to school? But I had been running away from school? Oh I had been sick but felt better? Yes my mother had called the nurse. Oh I see. Well now Robert, don’t worry. School is a fine place and we want you to like it here, and here you are, not sick, but just a little late. We can let it go. Now let’s just get you back to your class.

At this moment I felt like batman, trapped in the penguin’s vacuum chamber, the air being slowly sucked out weak, helpless, doomed. But as we walked down the hall a different image entered my mind, the image of a boy about my age in a frilly dress, walking stiffly across the stage in the multi-purpose room to be photographed. I almost had to stop. Finally we arrived at the classroom. Mr. Denmark stepped in and motioned me along. Terrified, I went straight to my assigned seat, while Mr. Denmark had a word with Ms. Rohrbaugh.

I caught sight of Johnny Lawrence in his little psychedelic "good boy" bow tie, and felt like crawling under my desk. What terrible punishment would befall me? Ms. Rohrbaugh took control of the class again, saying that she would deal with me later, and I tried to catch up and follow the lesson for that morning. After about half an hour, she gave the class a short writing assignment. As I began to write, Ms. Rohrbaugh approached. The fang-like tooth seemed particularly white under the harsh fluorescent light of the classroom, and she said - "Well Robert, it looks like we’re off to kind of a bad start this year aren’t we, come on to the back of the room. We have to have a little talk. I will not tolerate lateness or absence in my classes without excuses from home. I am taking 3 points from you this time. Next time it will be 6. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but I had an excuse from home" I said.

"That’s not what Mr. Denmark said. Shall we go down and see him again, Robert?"

I knew I was licked. I followed her up to the front of the class where she made her announcement.

Standing behind me, she said "Class, Robert was late today and has been docked 3 points. He will have the opportunity to earn back two of the points tomorrow and Thursday, but in order to earn back a point for today, he will stay in at recess and for the rest of the day will wear the Lace of Lateness."

With that, she reached into her desk drawer and produced a wide silk ribbon trimmed with lace. I looked back over my shoulder and saw it, white with small blue dots and florid with frills. "THAT is going on me! Oh god the shame!", I thought as my mouth involuntarily opened wide and a the blood burned hot in my face. I could do nothing as Ms. Rohrbaugh leaned over and tied the ribbon securely around my neck, taking a moment to tie a large proper bow.

I bent my head meekly and the bow brushed against my chin as I returned to my seat.

At recess, I had to stay in the classroom with Ms. Rohrbaugh while everyone else got to go and play. I had achieved a sort of pariah status, getting in trouble two days in a row, coming late to school, being absent from play after school. I also felt like I was the victim of a terrible plot to turn me into a total sissy. So I was totally surprised when Ms. Rohrbaugh actually asked me the comforting question: "Robert, are you all right?"

I confessed the truth to her, that I felt awful, that my sister had forced me to stay dressed in the red pants, and had even put a frilly blouse on me too, and that my mom was punishing me by letting my sister dress me for the week, and how I’d heard the story of Ray Little, and the other stories about how mean Ms. Rohrbaugh was, and how I hated having points. By the time I finished, I was nearly in tears.

Ms. Rohrbaugh smiled. "Well, Robert, it certainly has been an eventful couple of days. It would be hard for anyone to face what you’ve been facing. Robert, Do you think I’m being too hard on you? Answer honestly."

I couldn’t answer. Either a "yes" or a "no" seemed like it could lead to more punishment, so I just bowed my head and looked down at the floor.

"Well, Robert, if you make rules and you don’t enforce them, then those rules are not good rules. If there were no punishment for breaking the rules, then everyone who wanted to would break them. So I don’t think I’m being too harsh. If anything, I have’t been harsh enough on you..."

Despite the fact that her words spelled certain pain to me, and my head seemed to be spinning, I could hear the wheels spinning in my head as I considered how she would find a way to punish me. "Robert, what is the thing you like least about the lace of lateness?" She asked.

I had no answer ready, but she looked at me stubbornly while I tried to say something. I simply couldn’t think of any one reason to say why I hated the lace. Finally, I just said "It’s just so...so girly. I don’t like to wear it. It would be better if it were more plain."

"No, I don’t think so. I think if it were plain, you’d hate it just as much, Robert," she said, brushing her hand under the large bow, which brushed lightly against my cheek. "I think that the idea of this bow is the thing that you hate. You like to feel free from control, don’t you? You like to play with your friends and be free of adult supervision, don’t you."

I gravely nodded, sensing the truth of what she said.

She continued: "Robert, these are difficult days we live in. It’s so very easy for a kid to slip up and fall in with the wrong crowd. Now I am going to be certain that it doesn’t happen to you. You will bear the punishment I put on you for lateness without complaint, and you will not fall in with the wrong crowd."

I didn’t understand at all what she meant - what did wearing this lace thing have to do with falling into the wrong crowd? What was so difficult about these days?

Ms. Rohrbaugh explained - "You see, dear, it’s not that the lace is ‘girly’ - no, not really - No girl would wear something like that unless her mother made her do it - it’s SISSY. And nobody really likes to hang out with a sissy. You know that. Nobody wants to be so close to someone so controlled by other people. And that’s what I mean about control. Your mother, your sister, and I are going to keep you under control for a while, just to make sure that you live your life in a proper, civilized fashion."

And she smiled an evilly chilling smile, and the light glinted off of her fang-like tooth, as she sensed what I was feeling. Sheer terror.

Sheer terror which deepened even more when I realized what was happening. The sleepless night, the morning’s excitement, having to stop in the middle of my morning’s pee, the terror of it all combined. My brain went crazy, and most unfortunately, I lost control of my bladder. There was no mistaking what was happening. A stream of warm urine flowed down my leg.

Ms. Rohrbaugh laughed inwardly, knowing that her stern words were having their desired effect. With mock surprise, she exclaimed: "Oh Robert! Are you having an accident?"

I couldn’t help it anymore. I didn’t want to cry, but I couldn’t stop myself. The strain of the moment was just overwhelming my nine-year-old sensibilities. How unfair and embarrassing and confusing the situation. How furious and ashamed and weak I felt.

Ms. Rohrbaugh led me squalling by the hand to the back of the room, where there was a utility closet. She said "Calm down, dearheart. It’ll be O.K." But there was no comfort in those words or in that tone of voice. The last thing I wanted was to be happy or calm on her account. I wanted to be free and independent, my own man (or boy, I guess). So I didn’t calm down or stop screaming.

Of course I was no match for Ms. Rohrbaugh. She easily removed my shoes and socks and wet pants and underwear and my shirt. She led me to the sink and cleaned me up with a sponge and dried me off with paper towels. Then back to the closet, where I knew there was something terrible in store for me.

The panties were pink and had rows and rows of ruffles and lace. There was also a matching pink vest, with a tiny satin bow on it. I didn’t see that I had a choice, by this point, so I didn’t struggle much as Ms. Rohrbaugh pulled the slip on over my head, but when I saw the dress, I couldn’t stand it anymore. Yelling, hitting, striking and screaming, I made as furious an attack as I could. It was pitiful. If I had been a teen-ager, if I had been even big for my age, I might have had a chance.

But a child has little chance against an adult determined to dominate him. Size, strength, and worldly experience are almost impossible to overcome. If luck and fighting spirit are not on his side, he can only wait and plan his escape and revenge.

Ms. Rohrbaugh grabbed both of my wrists and pulled them up high above my head. I tried to kick, but she easily dodged the blows. She began to squeeze my wrists harder and harder and pulled my arms up higher and higher, until I could no longer fight. Then with a flourish of triumph, she pointed at the dress.

It was pale pink, with a round white lace collar that had a rose embroidered on each side. It had puffy sleeves trimmed with white lace to match the collar. The dress was gathered at the waist into a white sash, which tied in back, and had several tiers of pink and white skirts and under-skirts. It buttoned up the back with an impossible number of buttons, at most an inch apart.

I stood sullenly as I felt her fingers do up each of the buttons, tightening the dress around me and closing it tight at the throat. Then the sash, pulled very tight around me and tied into a bow at the back. "There. You behaved very well, Robin. Now put on these socks and shoes and hold still while I do your hair."

And with that, she went energetically to work with a brush on my hair, which, after all, had not been combed or brushed since the day before and was an awful mess. I gritted my teeth but still couldn’t hold back the tears as I felt a few random strands of hair ripped out by the roots. After a minute, she was done brushing. She looked me over and said "hmm, not bad. But there’s still one more thing to do. Hold still."

Ms. Rohrbaugh took a comb to the top of my head, and combed down the hair in front over my face. It was all in my eyes, when I heard her say again - "hold still." With a scissors, she carefully trimmed my hair across the middle of my forehead - bangs! - she was giving me bangs! Oh the injustice! She finished clipping and put down the scissors. Then she wrapped the lace of lateness around under my hair in the back, and brought it up to the top of my head, just above where my bangs started, and proceeded to tie it in a big bow. "All finished!" she exclaimed. "Now help me get the room cleaned up before all the other kids come in from recess."

There I stood, a vision of controlled juvenile femininity in my frilly pink dress with 20 buttons down the back and a wide sash; in my anklets, and white shoes; with my new bangs topped off with a lacy hair ribbon. Ms. Rohrbaugh had certainly shown me my place. There was nothing to do but help her clean up the room before the other kids got in from recess.

As the moment drew near, Ms. Rohrbaugh said, "Well, Robin, even though you did wet yourself again and throw an awful tantrum - since you’ve helped me out some, I’m only going to dock you one point. So how many points do you have now?"

Stunning. All this awful girly clothing, this violation of my hair and my nature, and I was still losing points.

"Uhh...95 points," I said.

"No Robin dear. You only have 93 points. You were to gain back 2 points at the end of the day, not before. I still haven’t decided whether or not to give them back to you. Now go sit down at your desk quietly, with your hands folded, and wait for the others to come back. And be careful with your skirt, sweetheart. We don’t want anybody looking up at your frilly undies, do we?"

I felt sick as I waited.

The kids filed back into class after recess and were met with the sight of an angelically well behaved student with her hands folded on the desk in front of her sitting in Robert Masted’s place. Some of them looked away. Some of them laughed. Charles Jones practically shouted "Damn - look at that! She put Masted in a dress! Hey Masted! What’s it like to wear a stupid dress?" And more kids laughed.

Ms. Rohrbaugh quickly brought this nonsence to an end with a sharp slap of a wooden ruler on her desk at the front of the room. "Class, you must not tease Robert. If you do not obey me, you will be punished, and as you can see, I can be quite severe. Now please sit down with your hands folded in front of you on the desk."

The children complied, and when all were quiet, the afternoon lesson began. It was excruciating, having to sit there in my little dress all afternoon. I didn’t dare speak, and I couldn’t look at anybody in the eye. It was a relief when the bell rang, ending the day.

As all the kids lined up to leave, I stayed in my place, but Ms. Rohrbaugh said "You too, Robin. Go on. You don’t need to stay late. I’ll see you tomorrow."

I got up slowly, gathering my books and homework assignments, and walked to the back of the line. All eyes were surely on me, as my skirt swung to and fro. My eyes never left the floor.

I felt even more vulnerable as I left the safety of the classroom. Now everyone would see me. All the other kids, friends and playmates in other classes, older kids, younger kids, everyone. I knew too that I would have trouble getting home without incident, so the second I left the school building, I started running like hell, the skirt of the dress flopping up and down. I didn’t care who saw anymore. I just wanted to get home and get out.

But when I got home, instead of hoped for freedom, I found (of course) Victoria and Mrs. Beechwood. I quickly realized the futility of my situation.

Mrs. Beechwood stood in the living room as I entered. She had a band aid on her forehead above one eye from where the door had hit her when I slammed it. She was beaming. "Back from school, I see, cutie! Now. What you did this morning is nearly unforgivable and you are going to be punished."

I began pleading for mercy - "Please, I’m sorry I slammed the door, I didn’t mean to hurt you, please, these clothes are punishment enough.."

But Mrs. Beechwood’s reply was not at all comforting. "No, the clothes are not punishment enough. They are perfectly good clothes, and wearing clothes is not a punishment. I appreciate that you are sorry for your behavior, but I must ensure that your contrition is for real and your offensive behavior will not be repeated."

And with that, she wrapped her fat hand around my wrist and pulled me over to the couch, where she sat down. With a jerk of her hand, I went flying over her lap and my chest hit her knee with enough force to make me lose my breath for a moment. My free hand went back to protect my bottom from the inevitable spanks, but Mrs. Beechwood was easily able to overpower me.

She began to spank me slowly with her plump hand, without pulling down my panties, speaking to me as she hit me over and over again. "You are going to learn how to behave properly, young lady. That’s right, I said young LADY, because you are going to behave excactly as a young lady should. You’ll learn your place all right, or you’ll find yourself back here, over my knee, little girl!"

The blows were not hard and I was protected some through the underpants, but they would not stop, and I was helpless to stop them. After a few minutes, though, my bottom began to seriously hurt, as Mrs. Beechwood mercilessly rained down blow after blow. I began to cry - what else could I do - and after a few silent tears, I began to bawl.

Finally, she stopped and I staggered to my feet. Through my tears I saw the smugly grinning face of my sister Victoria, who had been standing there watching me get my comeuppance. I knew I could count on her for more torment, and she did not disappoint.

I went to the kitchen, to get a little snack. Mom usually left us something to nosh on before dinner. As I got myself some milk and cookies, Victoria tried to tutor me on some of the finer points of feminine comportment. "Hold your skirt as you sit down, Robin." But somehow, after a day of incredible humiliation, her teasing didn’t seem to pack the same punch that it had in the past.

A few moments later, Mrs. Beechwood entered the kitchen. "O.K. kids, your mom asked me to take you out shopping this afternoon, so let’s go." She must have seen the look on my face, because she added "I mean it, Robin, we are going shopping, and you will get up this instant and come out to the car with us."

After that spanking, I was not about to refuse, but I hoped to delay it for a moment, so I said "Please, Mrs. Beechwood, can I go to the bathroom first?"

"O.K., but do it sitting down so you don’t get any on your nice dress."

My nice dress. Ugh.

*****

We got into the car and drove to the mall. I had a bad feeling about this trip. I had thought so many times in the past couple of days that the worst had happened, only to fall deeper into trouble, so I dreaded what was to come. I felt sure that it would involve being subjected to still more girl stuff although I couldn’t imagine what. I even had a girl’s hair cut.

As we walked from the car to the mall, and the dress blew all around my bare legs, my head filled with the terrible scenes of the past couple of days - wetting my pants in class, getting whaled on by my sister, having to sleep in a frilly sleep set, the terrible humiliation of being forced to wear the frilly party dress at school, and the merciless spanking I had so recently endured. I seemed to have been dealt a pretty bad hand in life. I was going to end up a sissy, a loathsome sissy with no friends. I had heard the taunts of the kids at school - "Fag! Sissy! Wuss!" I began to break down again. All of it was just too much for a little nine year old boy.

Victoria saw me and put her arm around me - probably the nicest thing anyone had done for me in the past couple of days, and I started crying harder. "Where are you taking me?" I sobbed. "Please, I just want to go home. I don’t care what you dress me in, just let’s go home. Can’t we go home?"

"Oh Robin, stop whining. We’re just going to get your ears pierced and maybe buy some underwear for you, and then we’ll go right home, right Mrs. Beechwood?"

"Yes, that’s right, Victoria. I’m afraid we’re only shopping for Robin today."

I resigned myself to my fate as we entered the mall and went directly to the ear piercing counter in the big department store. The woman who worked there smiled sympathetically at me, remarking at how getting her ears pierced was a special day for a girl, and didn’t I look pretty on my special day. Special Day.

Two short clicks later, and I was adorned with a small golden stud in each ear. Mrs. Beechwood led us on to the girls department and picked out some underpants for me, and our shopping trip was done. I was grateful to be returning home without any further fuss. Being in public like this was exhausting.

Unfortunately, it was not over for me yet. When we returned home, I discovered that Mrs. Beechwood had been busy that day. I went straight to my room, hoping to escape from the suffocating presence of my sister and the babysitter.

My personal space had been fairly well transformed into the room of a little girl. All of my dirty clothes had been picked up off of the floor. My bed was made up with pink frilly sheets and a flowered comforter. The toys on the shelf and posters on the wall had been replaced. On my dresser was a fancy mirror, some small pieces of jewelry, a few bottles and plastic containers, and a Barbie doll, carefully arranged. I dreaded what I had to do next, but I knew it had to be done.

I took a deep breath and opened the top drawer of my dresser. Inside, as I had feared, were the socks, tights, and frilly underwear appropriate to girls. The clothes in the other drawers were my older sister’s hand-me-downs. None of my old clothes remained. In the closet hung several of Victoria’s old dresses and blouses, now mine. As I turned back away from the closet, Victoria stood in the doorway to my room.

"Robin, you may as well give up thinking that it’ll ever be the same for you again. You’re going to be kept dressed up like a little girl for a very long time, both at school and at home. Always. And your going to learn how to behave properly, too. That’s right. And I’m going to have such fun with you. I’m going to teach you all about being a girl, and I don’t care whether you like it or not, ‘cause I’m your boss, and you are under my power." And with that, she left me there to contemplate my situation.

A couple of hours later after Mom had returned home, Victoria came to fetch me for dinner. She took me by the hand and led me downstairs. Mom smiled when she saw me and gave me a big hug. She didn’t say anything, didn’t ask any questions. She had made pork chops with apple sauce, my favorite. And for the first time in a couple of days, I felt a little better.

*****

Epilogue

Robin lived the rest of that year as a girl. It wasn’t easy, but he managed, since the essence of his nature was friendly and fun loving. Anyway, most of the girls’ clothes that he had were not as bad as the awful outfits he had to endure at the beginning. The other kids seemed to understand that it was just bad luck. Anyway, the difference between many 9 year old boys and girls is not all that pronounced. Girls are allowed to be "tomboys" at that age without much question.

Ms. Rohrbaugh gave back all of Robin’s points, and he was able to move on to 5th grade. John Lawrence proved to be a bit of a problem, though, and he was forced to endure another year of the dreaded Rohrbaugh. Rohrbaugh herself seemed to mellow as the year went on, though. She was married a year later and retired from teaching.

Mrs. Beechwood and Mrs. Masted maintained their friendship over the years, and were grateful to have each other at the end, after the kids moved out.

Victoria discovered pot in the 8th grade and boys discovered her shortly afterwards. She did o.k. for herself, and is now busy raising a few kids of her own.

And Robin, well, given the opportunity to choose whether he wanted to continue being a girl, chose not to. It just wasn’t his nature to change completely. His time on the other team did teach him a lot though, and he later thought of it as something of a blessing in disguise. Even today, he occasionally...

END

 

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