The First Day of School

Part I of
Melissa Goes to School

by

Karen Anne Summerfield
© October 2001

 

I was extremely nervous and my hand was shaking while I shaved the sparse hairs from my face; worried I'd nick myself and much more anxious about what I was going to do that day. Completing my electrolysis sessions was still months away. It was Wednesday, September seventh and the first day of school.

Luckily I finished my shave uneventfully and washed the remaining lather off. Taking a moment to double check that all traces of beard and mustache had been removed, I reached for my tweezers to pluck a few stray hairs from my arched brows. Mom, already dressed for work, was laying out my uniform when I emerged.

"Would you like me to help you dress, Melissa?" she offered.

"I'm sure I can manage, but I'd like you to stay and sort of tell me again about what I might expect."

"Let me get another cup of coffee. Would you like your juice?" Mom is the best. I couldn't think of anything I could ever ask that she'd not try to do for me. While she went to the kitchen, I slipped off the big towel I'd wrapped myself in then stepped in to the white brief. It's elastic and very tight. I don't mind; it's necessary to successfully hide what's still in my crotch. I couldn't wait for the day when I could have it removed and finally be whole. I wished I could take some pill to make it go away, pills like those I took to produce the breasts that filled the soft, white bra I adjusted about my chest.

Two years ago, mom had taken me first to a psychiatrist then to a doctor. After both had run me through extensive batteries of tests, they concluded I was sane and physically fit. I've been taking hormones since. Physically, they did nothing for me for over a year, visual results didn't show too much by the time my nipples had become sensitive. During the summer, their growth rapidly accelerated so that I wore a B cup on the first day of school.

Mentally, the hormones had produced the expected side effects. I had frequently mood swings and often reacted in very emotional ways, crying mostly, for what would have seemed to be the silliest reasons. Despite not having the organs which cause it in other girls, once every twenty-seven days I swallow a pill that simulates PMS; inducing uncomfortable cramps, more radical mood swings and, sometimes, depression beyond the mood swings. It was my shrink who had dictated this. She told me straight out that if I really wanted to be a girl, that was her way of assuring I was committed and serious. If I didn't experience these symptoms, she wasn't going to permit my surgeries. Mom went along and refused my request for another head doctor.

I'd my plain white slip covering me when mom returned.

"Are you exited this morning?" I had to giggle, hearing her ask.

"Very nervous would be a better description.

"Pass me the tights please?" I sat to insert my pink toenails into the black nylon. Once I'd worked them up to my waist and smoothed them over my hairless legs, I removed the blouse from its hanger.

"Mom, do you really think I can get away with this?" I was used to doing buttons on the wrong side. Mom had exchanged all my boy shirts for blouses when I started on the hormones. Unless you noticed the buttons, they really weren't that different. I couldn't say that about the long sleeved white one I put on that morning - it was fitted to conform to my girlish torso.

"Of course I do. The only way you could be discovered would be to tell or show them what's in your panties, Dear. I don't think you want to do either." She zipped up the dark green tartan jumper, saving me the effort. As school uniforms go, this one wasn't bad, despite how short the pleated skirt was. That had been mom's idea. To force me to sit like a lady, she'd hemmed it up; to the limits the dress code permitted - halfway between my knees and my crotch.

Though she tried, my mother was little better at tying a necktie than I was. After six attempts I was satisfied with the knot and tucked the red tie between my breasts, right behind the school emblem at the top of my jumper and buttoned down the collar tabs.

I sipped my juice before sitting to do my hair and makeup.

"Remember, not to heavy, Melissa. You're a sixteen year old girl, not a cocktail waitress."

"I know, mom." Over the summer I'd toned down my look considerably. Since starting to dress full time when classes let out at my old school, I had practiced with my makeup a lot. With a light application of sheer foundation, I applied gray mascara. After a dusting of blush, I puckered before the mirror and applied frosted pink lipstick to match my nails. I'd manicured and painted them the previous evening, after I'd set my hair.

It took me a few minutes to remove all the curlers, brush my bob into place and fasten the white ribbon over my head. I'm a natural brunette. Mom had given me the choice of being a redhead or a blond, to minimize the chances of anyone associating Melissa with my former self, she'd insisted my hair be both much shorter and a new color. The day after school had ended, I was taken to a beauty salon for a complete makeover and have been a dark redhead since.

"I guess I'm ready," I announced after fastening my watch and changing my earrings for the cubic zirconia and silver studs mom had given me for my birthday. I was pierced twice in my left ear and one in my right on my birthday and had only worn those plain studs for the past eight weeks, until fully healed. I'd have opted for the silver hoops in my jewelry box, but the dress code at my new school didn't permit them. I slung my black purse on my left shoulder and carried my backpack down to the kitchen.

The sound on my heels on the wooden steps seemed louder that morning. That had been another of mom's ways to force me to be more lady-like. The chunky, fat heels were four-inches high and the platform of an inch. At six feet tall in my tights, I was going to stand out and attract unwanted attention to myself. If I was going to be a girl, I couldn't change my height like I had my hair.

A toasted muffin and a glass of milk were all I wanted that morning. Mom placed my lunch bag in the backpack while I ate.

"I'm scared, mom."

"I know, but you can pull it off, you'll see. Good luck." She gave me a light kiss on the cheek and opened the door.

It was a gorgeous morning - sunny and warm. Even though mom was the Assistant Principal at my new school, she insisted that I take the bus and the stop was a quarter of a mile from our house. I was early and no others were waiting when I reached the corner. Having to wait, did not calm my nerves. I was at a bit of a loss as to want to do.

This was not the first time Melissa had been out of the house, not even the first time soloing. I'd gone to the mall, the movies and the supermarket over the summer, but this was the first time I had nowhere to walk to and nothing to do, but wait. I fidgeted with my purse. Checking my makeup in my compact didn't take much time. It was also the first time I'd been out, alone, in a short skirt. Mostly, I'd dressed like other girls do - in jeans or shorts.

A lump formed in my throat and my stomach did flip-flops when I saw two girls approaching from the other direction. Their uniforms identified them as pupils at my new school. Of course, both were shorter than I was.

I saw them stop their conversation for a moment when the pudgy blonde pointed me out. A few words were exchanged then they both giggled. Obviously I was the joke they shared. I wanted to hide!

"Hi," the brunette greeted as her eyes checked me out. I managed to say the same.

"Your new. I've not seen you before?" her friend questioned.

"I just moved here at the beginning of the summer." I stated, worried my low voice might give me away.

"Where from?" pudgy asked.

"South Jersey." It was true we'd moved, but only from the next town, twelve miles away.

"They really grow ya tall down there." The brunette was eyeing my long legs.

"I suppose," I shrugged.

"What's you name?" the inquisitive blond asked.

"Melissa."

"Kewl. I'm Patty and this is Linda."

"Kewl," I forced a smile.

"What grade are you in?" Linda inquired.

"Eleventh."

"Kewl, Patty and I are too.

"What's your mom and dad do?"

"They died in a car crash. I live with my aunt. She the Assistant Principal at Morris Academy."

"Mrs Marcus? Way kewl!" Patty smiled. "I really like her. Your aunt is a big help to all of us."

"Hi girls. Lookin' good!" I turned to see the new arrival. He was as tall as I was in my heels and very solidly built. His eyes danced up and down between my breasts and exposed legs.

"Yowrsir! Whoof!" Really a class act! He had with his tongue hanging out and panted like a puppy.

"Ow's about we see each other Friday night, Red?"

"I don't even know your name and, no, I'm not going out with you." I replied coolly.

"You'll change your mind, Brad's captain of the football team and a senior this year," Linda informed.

"Oh wow, I'm sure that is impressive ... if I were in the fifth grade still," I turned to face the road.

"You should be flattered, Melissa. No girl passes up a chance to date Brad."

"You just met one, Patty. I'm not impressed!" I could feel their eyes burning into my back.

The arrival of our school bus ended the conversation. I made sure that I was the first to board then grabbed the first available seat, even if it was next to another boy. I'd been in such a hurry to get away that I'd forgotten to take off my pack. Even though it forced me sit uncomfortably on the edge of my seat, I just left it on.

The boy was a little thing and seemed terribly frightened of me, but I didn't worry about it. I was being talked about and that bothered me. Soon the entire bus knew that the tall redhead had snubbed the mighty Brad Wilson. Someone behind me, a boy, even suggested that I must be a lesbian.

That was the topic by the time we exited to wait, with the others, for the first bell.

At least I wasn't the only tall girl with a short jumper. A pretty black girl with waist length hair differed from me only by her larger breasts and rounder hips. We both were checking each other out. The guy hanging out next to her was even bigger than Brad.

I found my homeroom easily and went in. The girl I'd noticed soon stood before my desk. Looking up, I saw she was looking down at me and her red lips parted in a big grin.

"Pleased to see I'm no longer the tallest girl here.

"Jasmine Jade," she extended a long nailed hand to me in greeting.

"Melissa Andrews. Hi," I smiled up." She turned to the boy who'd seated next to me.

"Scoot your honky butt to another seat, Joey, I want to sit there." Meekly, he just vacated the desk.

"You sure are lookin' good, mama. You into sports?" What kind of a question was that?

"No, not really."

"We could use a chick with your legs on the squad. Tryouts are in the gym after classes today."

"Tryouts for what?" I was curious.

"The cheer leading squad. Think on it. I'll ask you later." I was actually flattered that she thought I might do well.

"Good morning, class." Some greeted him as 'Mr Fisher'. The teacher had entered the room; I followed the others to do stand. Gee, things were going to different in private school; the girls curtseyed and the boys bowed then remained standing for the Pledge of Allegiance.

"Be seated.

"For those who do not know me, I'm Frank Fisher. I'll be your homeroom teacher and have you for English, the first period.

"I see a few new faces this year. For your benefit, let me cover some of the rules here. If you are the product of public schools, I'm sure you'll find more than wearing a uniform to be different.

"You are to be properly uniformed at all times and neatness with proper grooming is important. For the boys that includes no facial hair. The girls are required to wear makeup and polish their nails." I had noticed that all the other girls wore more makeup than I was. He stared at me.

"What is your name, young lady?"

"Melissa Andrews." He scanned the open book on his desk and placed a mark, probably next to mine near the top of the page.

"Yes. I'll excuse your rude behavior, just this once, Melissa," he said with a cold tone. "When addressed or speaking, you are to stand and curtsey." I scrambled to correct my ignorant performance and curtseyed quickly.

"When a teacher is present, you do not speak without their permission.

"Since you are up, we'll start with you. Come to the front of the class." I curtseyed again before I nervously complied. "Face the class and introduce yourself then give us a short biography, Melissa."

"Good morning," I curtseyed to them and noticed how every pupil sat with good posture.

"My name is Melissa Susan Andrews. I just moved here from Cape May, New Jersey, at the end of June. I live with my aunt now, as my parents are both dead.

"My birthday is July first and I'm sixteen." I didn't know how much more to say. Jasmine sliced her long red nails in front of her throat, signaling me to stop.

"Thank you, Melissa," Mr Fisher said.

"Out of curiosity, please answer a question?"

"If I can, sir."

"How tall are you?" I was surprised that he was meeting my eyes and not staring at my legs.

"Six foot even, in my stockings," I told him.

"More makeup is appropriate for a girl your age," he told me then I was sent back to my seat.

"Alphabetical order is the usual order things are done. Let's change it. We'll go by height, tallest to shortest. Who is next?" Jasmine stood and curtseyed. Then looked about the room.

"I think I am, Mr Fisher." He nodded.

"My name is Jasmine Opal Jade. With a name like mine you'd think my father was into rare or, at least, semi-precious stones." Many chuckled. "Actually, he's a surgeon. I'm sixteen and, like my newest friend, Melissa, my birthday's in July too." It was nice to hear that, even though we'd only just met. "It's the sixth.

"You all know I'm Captain of the Varsity cheerleaders. I'd like all of you to help me convince Melissa there to join in - give you someone else's legs to look at, in addition to mine. We all know, you pay more attention to us than the game." She was sent back to her seat.

"You have my vote, Jasmine. I'll talk to Miss Stinson.

"Jasmine, we all know, is also a six-foot shortie too. Next?"

When the bell rang at eight twenty, no one moved.

"You may talk until the next class bell, just as you may when changing classes." Mr Fisher turned and began writing on the chalkboard.

"I'm serious, hun'. I think you'd make a great addition to the squad. Can you tumble?"

"Yes," I answered. "I think I'm pretty good, but didn't make the girls' team. I just didn't fit the image. I'm too tall, I guess. None of the girls on it were over five foot four." I neglected to tell her the real reason I wouldn't have made the girls team.

"Well there's no height limits on cheerleaders here.

"I don't suppose you brought anything to wear to the try-out?" I shook no. I'd certainly not planned this and was sure it was a really crazy idea. Her dark eyes scanned me. "You'll fit my uniform. What size shoes do you wear?"

"Eight medium." My answer lit up her face.

"Perfect."

When the bell rang again, I stood and curtseyed.

Mr Fisher had two of the others pass out textbooks while we took out our notebooks.

"English class this year will, most likely, be different than those you've previously had. You might subtitle Junior English for the college prep honors students as, Creative Writing. I'm going to try to teach you how to write properly; unlike the way many of you sound talking to your friends.

"OK. Let me hear what you think are the skills needed for good writing?" Hands, including Jasmine's and mine went up.

"Susan?"

"A good vocabulary, sir."

"Excellent." He turned and wrote it on the board. The list began to grow and hands were lowered.

"OK. That's a pretty good list." I raised my hand.

"Yes, Melissa?" I stood and curtseyed.

"I think having a good imagination is something we forgot, Mr Fisher."

"Very good. Be seated."

"Sir?" He nodded. "I think a good writer should also be a good reader, at least she should have read a lot of different things."

"Good. More?"

We were assigned an essay, or a story, to write for the remainder of the class period. No subject was suggested. I chose to write one about being a new girl in school and related it to my own experiences that morning.

We changed rooms to go to history class with Mr Svensen. Some of the class went in other directions. It turned out that Jasmine had an identical schedule to the one I had and we were becoming fast friends.

When time for lunch, Jasmine guided me to a table where eight other girls were seated and introduced me to Samantha, Helen, Judy, Teniesha, Katy, Cathy, Pam and Kitten. All of them were drop dead gorgeous. They were the female half of the cheer leading squad. As we ate, I learned that there were boys on the squad too, but just for football season.

"If you can move at all, Melissa, you'll make the team," Teniesha offered when Jasmine told them I was going to try out. She was the only other black girl and it turned out that she was Jasmine's best friend. "We've needed someone to balance with Jazzi since freshman year."

"What about the guys?" I naively asked.

"Are you kidding, or wha'?" Helen interjected. "What kinda guys do you think want to be cheerleaders. They're all gay.

"I know they'd all want to wear our uniforms instead of theirs. Timmy even came to practice one time in a leotard and tights," Judy offered. They all giggled.

"Yeah, but you gotta admit he looked better than most of the girls here," Sam' offered.

"Just cause a guy wants to dress pretty, doesn't mean he's gay," I stupidly defended. I realized I should have kept quiet as soon as I'd said the words. Luckily, Kitten, a beautiful girl from Singapore, joined my side.

"Look, you've heard me all tell you about my brother. Being a T girl doesn't mean a guy is gay." Curiously, the petite girl had as much control over the rest of the cheerleaders as Jasmine commanded.

"Teniesha, you wear size eight sneaks, right?" Jasmine asked. "Melissa needs to borrow a pair for the tryout."

During the rest of lunch period they told me what was going to be involved and even taught me several cheers. By the time we broke up, all the girls were rooting for me. I'd made eight more friends. After French, my last class of the day, we came together in the girls' locker room.

By then I had completely lost all of my nervousness that I'd had earlier. It returned, ten times over, when I started to remove my school uniform. My fears were unfounded. Having real breasts helped me pass the test without question and I never had to remove my brief; I just covered it with the white satin pair, which was also elastic, and no one questioned.

Despite the color of our class uniforms, the school colors were gold with white and black. Jasmine's pleated skirt fit perfectly, as did her white knit sweater.

They had time to redo my makeup - much heavier. With all of them in white tights and leotards that had a gold and black diagonal band about their chests (these were their practice uniforms) we entered the gym as a team.

I had heard the cheers of both the guys and girls attempting to win spots and the crowd nearly filling the bleachers. Nothing earlier had filled the cavernous hall like the reception we got running in together.

There had neither been time nor a place to rehearse, but an abbreviated routine had been explained. I was in Jasmine's place and she wasn't part of the group. Instead, she had gone ahead to explain my presence and uniform to their coach and was expected to join us later on the floor.

Kitten led off with a mid-air somersault then the others fanned out and tumbled to the sides. It was my show. I ran towards the center space, but instead of the tumble I was expected to do, I too somersaulted in mid-air then did a standing back flip.

"M-O-R-R-I-S!" I repeated the letters two more times, each one being shouted faster than the previous. As I went through the cheers I'd been taught, those who'd gathered to watch started to follow my cheers. I landed with my legs and hands spread from the back flip I'd planned as the conclusion, but added something more, a forward flip that landed me in a perfect split. The crowd went wild.

"My god! You are good!" Jasmine had run out and pulled me up.

"Pyramid, girls!" she ordered as she locked her arm about my waist. Katy and Cathy joined us to form the base and Kitten sprang to the top when the others were in place above. The girls all somersaulted as we broke. Again, the cheers of approval were deafening.

"You cheated, Jasmine, and you know it," though Miss Stinson, their coach, sounded angry, she was all smiles.

"The voting was unanimous, Melissa." She extended her hand, "Congratulations and welcome to the squad.

"Carol Matthew's? Aleshia Jahoud?" She called over the other new members, congratulated them also and introduced all of us.

It took about fifteen minutes to issue our uniforms then it was time to go home on the late bus.

"Where have you been?" Mom seemed angered by my late arrival. I answered with a smile and took out the sweater with its black and yellow 'M' across the chest.

"You didn't?"

"I did!" We hugged.

The End

 

 

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© 2001 by Karen Anne Summerfield. All Rights Reserved. These documents (including, without limitation, all articles, text, images, logos, compilation design) may printed for personal use only. No portion of these documents may be stored electronically, distributed electronically, or otherwise made available without express written consent of the copyright holder.