The Adventures of Sammy Watkins

[Sandra B]

4.
“Aunt!  Please!”
“You like it?”
“No, I don’t!  Let me wear by nice ballet outfit.  Please.  I can’t go like this.  You don’t know what those friends of Daphne’s are like!”
“Well, you won’t be going quite like this,” she said, slipping on the sash and adjusting it to her satisfaction.  You’ll have a pretty ribbon choker and some sweet earrings we found, and a little makeup.  Oh, and Patricia will do your hair.  You’ll look twice as nice when we’re finished with you.  Now come and show the others.”
She led him, protesting, to the lounge.
When they saw him, Daphne jumped for joy, and Patricia covered her mouth.
“Oh, Sammy…  Is it really you?  You look scrumptious!  The girls are going to love you.”
“Amelia is going to be so surprised,” cried Daphne.  “She thought you looked cute last time, but now…”
“You c-can’t do this,” stuttered Sammy.  “I beg you, don’t.  I didn’t mean to mess up Daphne’s costume.  It was just a prank.  I didn’t realise it would turn out so…so awful.”
But he was ignored.
“He’s pretty enough to go into a real pageant,” said Patricia.  “Pity we don’t have them here.”
“Oh, I think there are some,” replied Cecily, “though of course it’s not like in the States.  Let’s look online.”
Sammy looked seriously alarmed.
“Don’t worry, we’re just joking,” laughed Patricia.  “You should see your face!”
“That’s not funny,” he grimaced.
“Sorry,” said Cecily.  “But let’s have a piccy, anyway.”  She took a couple of snaps, and fiddled with her phone.
“I’ve sent it to your mum.  I was going to send a photo to Amelia’s mum, but I think it would be more fun to surprise her.”
“Do what you like,” said Sammy, feigning indifference.  “I don’t care.”  He stood there unsteadily on his heels.
“Okay, why don’t you go and get changed,” said Cecily.  “Don’t spoil your costume, though.  Pack it away nicely in the bag.”
“Yes,” said Daphne, “then it’ll be all nice and smart for tomorrow.  You’re going to have the best costume there, I bet.  Even better than mine!”

Later that evening, when the children had both gone to bed, Cecily and Patricia sat in the lounge sipping wine.
“Alone at last,” laughed Patricia.  “So…shall we have a look, now?”
“Let’s.  Okay, here we go…  This one's in the States…so’s  this one…  Ah, here we are.  It’s a society.  Let’s see…you have to pay a subscription…and a fee for each pageant.  Now, when and where is the next one…  Westford – that’s not that far.  Twenty-first of next month.  They have a boys’ section, too.”
“How much is it?”
“A year’s subscription is twenty-five pounds.  The entry fee is seventy-five, if he were actually to take part.”
“Shall we pay the subscription…just in case?”
“If we could persuade him…”
“You know who might be able to help, Cec?”
“Who?”
“Remember my niece, Kayley?  She’s always up for the crack?”
“Oh, yes, the pretty blonde one.”
“That’s right.”
“How old is she now?”
“She’s seventeen.  Just got herself a little car.”
“Really?  Do you think she’d…you know, be able to influence him?”
“She could probably wind him round her little finger.  Whether she could lead him that far…  I don’t know.”
“I’m going to give Vivien a ring.  See what she thinks.”
She picked up her phone and dialled her sister.
“Hi Viv.  Yes, fine.  He’s in bed.  Did you like it?  I know.  He’s not happy, but you know, I’m sure there’s a bit of him that loves all the attention, though he pretends not to.  Yes, quite.  I’m glad you’ve noticed that too.  Anyway, why I’m ringing is….we’ve found a rather interesting website.  It’s a society that organises pageants.  Yes, actual pageants.  I’m sending you a link.  I mean, it’s just an idea.  Let me know what you think.  I was considering taking out a year’s subscription, if you agreed.  I mean, I don’t really think it would come to anything, but…well you’ve seen the photo.  Exactly.  He is, isn’t he?  Anyway, let me know.  Okay.  Bye for now.”
They didn’t have to wait long. 
“Hello?  Viv.  Yes.  Yes, absolutely.  It does, doesn’t it?  I know.  It’s crazy.  There’s like a five hundred pound first prize!  It would be fun!  Okay.  No, no harm done if it comes to nothing.  Yes, leave all that to me.  I’ll take care of it.  They may not even accept him.  I have no idea whether he’d be able to enter the girls’ competition.  We’ll see.  Yeah.  Bye!”
She turned to Patricia.  “Okay.  She’s totally on board.  I’ll subscribe now…email…there, done.  Now…applications.  “Please submit a full-length photograph” – got that – “name, age, height, names and addresses of parents or guardians, contact phone number”.  Okay, I’m putting in Vivien and myself, and I’ll use my phone number.  There…all done.”
“We’re bad, Cec, you know that?”
“We are.  But what the hell.”

[Sandra B]

5.
I was expecting to have to write that Sammy was unable to sleep that night, in view of the ordeal the next day.  But he had been so wound up during the week, that finding out what his costume was to be at least had the effect of releasing all that tension, and allowing him a deep and peaceful slumber.  So he awoke fresh and ready for whatever Fate and his aunt had to throw at him.

These parties normally began after lunch, but this one was scheduled to be an all-day affair.  The children were allowed to arrive any time after eleven.  This was good, Sammy calculated, as it meant there was going to be a party lunch as well as party goodies and a party supper.  The thought helped reconcile him to whatever awaited him, and after breakfast, he allowed himself to be taken to the bathroom and attended to by both the women, with Daphne, content to wait her turn in such a good cause, looking on.  They took off his T-shirt and began the transformation.  While Cecily washed and curled his hair into ringlets, Patricia painted his nails pink – mauve and pink always seem to go well together, somehow.
“Why are you bothering to do my nails?” Sammy asked.  “They’re not going to show under my gloves anyway.”
“Your gloves are for your entrance, darling.  There’s no way you’ll be able to keep them on all day.  So your nails need painting.  It’s these little details that separate the pageant princess from the pageant also-rans.”
“Oh.  I see.”
“And in your reticule –“
“My what?”
“Your reticule – it’s a tiny shoulder bag where you can keep your private girly things – in your reticule, along with you scent and some tissues, you will find a couple of scrunchy bangles which you can put on to complete your outfit.  Okay?”
“I guess so.  I’m getting a bit nervous now, though…”
“Don’t worry, Sammy,” piped up Daphne, “I’ll look after you.  Just hold my hand when we get there and you’ll be all right.”
“Okay, Daphne,” he replied, seriously.
Patricia and Cecily exchanged surprised glances.  He must be nervous, thought Cecily.   She sprayed the piled-up ringlets with quantities of lacquer, until she was sure they’d hold their shape for the entire day.  For his makeup, foundation was followed by blusher, a little more than was natural, in good pageant tradition.  Excessive mascara, of course, a light smearing of mauve eye shadow, to match his swimsuit, pink lip gloss, and he was done.  Then he was led to the bedroom and dressed just as he had been the evening before, and told to go and wait in the lounge.  Then it was Daphne’s turn to get ready.
By about ten-thirty they were ready to go.  The final touches were added.  Daphne was sprinkled with glitter.  Sammy pulled on his long gloves, and had his mauve ribbon choker clipped on.  A single amethyst hung from the catch at the front.  His earrings – clip-ons – were also amethyst, in silver mounts.  His little tiara was pushed into the stiff pile of ringlets, where it stuck fast.  Finally Cecily slipped his sash over his head, and handed him his reticule.  It was of mauve leather, matching his shoes.  He naturally had good balance, and had adapted quite quickly to his heels.  They took a final look at themselves in the mirror.  Staring at his reflection, Sammy felt quite dazed.  How could he be embarrassed, when he looked so perfect?  He almost had to remind himself he was a boy, but when he did, that was when he felt his cheeks burning.  He realised what he had to do that day.  He had to be a girl, then no-one would laugh at him.  And he found something profoundly exciting in the thought.
“Daphne…  Do you know if there’ll be any boys at the party?”
“A few, I think.  Amelia has several boy friends.  I mean friends who are boys, not boyfriends!” she added, with a slight blush.  “Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason, really.”  But he was wondering what they were going to think of him.  He felt a little confused, but now he was fully made up, also much more confident.  Cecily and Patricia took several more snaps of them before they left.
“We should have sent one of these to that society,” said Patricia, quietly. 
“We should.  I’ll send one as a supplementary, to make sure they get the message.”
“Yes, do.”
“All right, children!  Let’s go.  Got the present?” 
Daphne had chosen a doll as a joint present from herself and Sammy.  It was a doll in a box, a soft fabric doll in a floral skirt with a smiley face.  According to the name woven into her top, she was called “Sam”!  The irony wasn’t lost on Sammy.
“It’ll remind Amelia of my party,” Daphne remarked, with a quiet smile of satisfaction.   
“You two in the back of the car, please, and don’t mess your makeup before we get there, Sammy,” said Cecily.
“Have a good time, but no misbehaviour, please,” added Patricia, glancing at Sammy in the rear view mirror.  “Look after each other, won’t you?”
“Yes, mummy.  Don’t worry!” said Daphne, taking Sammy’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

[Sandra B]

6.
When they pulled up outside Amelia’s house, and Cecily turned off the engine, Sammy began to check nervously up and down the road.  Once he was inside, he told himself, he’d be safe.  One kid amongst many, with a perfect excuse for being dressed up as a girl.  It almost felt thrilling, having carte blanche to be whatever he wanted.
“All right, kids.  You can go in when you like.  Sammy?  Give yourself a squirt or two of scent before you go.  We’ll be there in a moment.”
“I’ll do it!” cried Daphne, helping herself to the atomiser in Sammy’s reticule, and spraying him liberally with ‘French Miss’.  Sammy had to wrench it out of her grasp and, coughing, return it to his little bag.
“Yippee!  Let’s go!” cried Daphne, starting to push him out of the door.
Sammy and Daphne got out onto the pavement, pushed open the gate, and made their way up the front path.  Daphne ran, but Sammy was forced to step carefully in his heels.
Cecily and Patricia looked at each other.
“He seems a lot more relaxed that I thought he’d be,” laughed Patricia.
“Yes.  Not much of a punishment!  I wonder how Daphne’s little friends will react.”
“Let’s go see.”

The children were inside now.  About half the other guests – that is, about half a dozen – had already arrived, accompanied by their mothers.  When the women were admitted, they found that Sammy had got no farther than the hallway before being mobbed by a bunch of little girls, squealing and chattering over his costume like a bunch of excited sparrows.
Sammy was taken aback.  But at present at least, their interest was purely aesthetic.
“Sammy!  Do you remember me?  I’m Bethanie.  I met you at Daphne’s party.  I loved your ballet costume, but this is…just amazing!”
“Your makeup’s so professional,” chimed in Grace.  “Do you do it yourself?”
“Er, well, you know, my aunt helped, but mainly….”
“Would you help me with mine?  I’ll ask my mum if you can come round.  What days are you free?”
“Well, I, er… I mean, I’ve got quite a lot on at the moment.  You know, secondary school's different.  There’s a lot more homework…”
“But you’re free some weekends?” interjected Megan.  “Please come to my party.  It’s two weeks today.  We’re gonna have masses of food…”
“Really?  Oh, sure, I’d love to…”
“Sammy,” asked the smallest girl in the gathering, whose name was Leah, “Sammy?  Do you actually do pageants?  I mean, is that a real sash?  If you did, I’m sure you’d win…  Your costume is so…beautiful.”
Sammy was nonplussed by this question.  But the flattery was having its effect, and moreover he didn’t want to appear fake, or disappoint his admirers.  Leah looked up into his face with such an expression of adoration, he found himself saying,
“Well, er, you know, I, er, haven’t really bothered up to now.  But, yeah, I’m entering for one soon.”
Leah’s face lit up.
“You know, I don’t expect to win or anything,” he added, hoping to impress her with his modesty.  “I’ll just be doing it for a bit of fun, like.”
“Can we come and watch you?  Please?”
“Oh…I don't know...perhaps...”
“Mummy!  Mummy!  Sammy’s gonna be in a real pageant.  Can we go and watch him?  Please?”
“Oh, darling, I’m sure we can arrange that.  Sammy, that’s amazing.  Is it your first one?  I’m sure you’ll do well.  Your outfit is so perfect!”
“Oh, thanks, er…”
“Sandra.  Sandra Aitchison.  When is it?
“Err…”
“It’s on the twenty-first of next month,” said Cecily, coming over.  “Hi, I’m Cecily, Sammy’s aunt.  Nice to meet you, Sandra.”
“And you, Cecily.  Leah seems very excited by the thought of seeing Sammy in a real pageant.  Where’s it being held?” 
“Westford.  Mind you, we’re still waiting for the entry to be confirmed.  Fingers crossed.”
“Oh, he won’t have any problem, I’m sure.  He already looks like a professional.  Let me give you my phone number, and perhaps you’d confirm it.  I’d love to go to one of those things again.”
“You’ve been before?”
“We went to Scarlett’s last year.  She’s not here yet.  Her mum knows all about these things.  If it’s his first time, I’m sure she’d be happy to give you some advice, if you wanted.”
“That would be very helpful.  We…”
“Oh, here they are now!  Teri!  Come and meet Cecily.  I was just telling her about Scarlett’s pageant.  She’s trying to get Sammy there entered at…where was it, Cecily?”
“Westford.  Hi Teri, nice to meet you.  This is my nephew, Sammy.  What do you think, could he get in?”
“Nice to meet you too, Cecily.  He’s lovely!  So would he be going in the girls’ section?  Or as a boy?”
“We were hoping as a girl.  He prefers the girls’ costumes, and he looks good in them.  What do you think?”
“At Westford?.  That’s the west counties society.  You won’t have any problem there.  They believe in total diversity.  And I can tell you now, from what I can see, I’d be gobsmacked if they didn’t jump at him.”
“Oh, that’s so reassuring.  Thank you.”
“No trouble.  I’d be happy to meet up some time and discuss it.  I have quite a bit of experience with pageants.  Scarlett loves them, don’t you, dear?”
“Yes, mum.  Sammy’s really cute, isn’t he?  I told you about Daphne’s party, but today he looks twice as good!”
“He certainly looks the real deal.  And I’ve always had a soft spot for boys brave enough to take on the girls at their own game.  Sammy?  Were you thinking of keeping this costume for the swimwear section?
“Er…”
“I think you should.  It would be difficult to improve upon.  Maybe a little cape…I don’t know.  But you’re going to need a dress, and probably one other outfit.  I can help with that, Cecily, if you’d like.  I know some good sources which wouldn’t be too expensive.”
“Thanks, Teri.  I’ll take you up on that.  See, Sammy?  Looks like you’re going to get your wish after all.”
Sammy stood staring at his aunt, momentarily unable to speak.  What had just happened?  His heart sank.  One off the cuff remark, and now he was committed to a real, actual, genuine pageant.  And everyone knew.
More guests were arriving now.  More attention.  And Leah running around screaming, “Sammy’s gonna be in a pageant – a real pageant!  An’ we can all go!  Yay!"

[Sissy Little Girl]

Sandra B, I love that Sammy keeps getting himself deeper and deeper into his new role as a girl.  I can't wait to read about the pageant.  You do yourself proud with the way you write.  Thank you for entertaining us with your stories.

[Sandra B]

7.
Amelia’s mother, Mrs Hughes, stood in the hallway welcoming each new guest as she arrived.  Most, Sammy recognised from Daphne’s party.  He tried to remember all their names.  Eleanor, Hannah, Courtney, Abbey, Paige, Evie.  He was standing near the window, talking to Paige and Hannah.  Hannah had brought her younger brother, Harry, who, somewhat to Sammy’s chagrin, was wearing a Hawkeye costume.  He wandered into the room, picked up a crisp from one of the bowls on the table, and had opened his mouth to give it access when he spotted Sammy.  The mouth stayed open, and the eyes opened wider.  He stood transfixed.  One of the mothers nudged her friend.
“Look at Harry.  I think he’s in love!”  And they collapsed in stifled laughter.
Sammy glared at him, without effect.
“Hannah, who’s that girl?” he said in a loud voice.  The chatter died away.  Everyone was looking at Harry or at Sammy.
“Oh, that’s not a girl, Harry.  This is Sammy.  Do you like his costume?”
“Sammy?” he repeated, not understanding.
“Sammy.  He’s a boy.  He’s going in for a pageant.”
“A boy?”  A smile of dawning understanding spread slowly over his face.  He stared even harder.  “Is he a sissy, then?”
There was a moment’s silence, then the whole room exploded in mirth.
“Of course not, silly!  Sammy’s just, you know…  He likes dressing up as a girl, that’s all.”
“Does he?  He looks so pretty.  Prettier than you…”
“Oh, thanks very much!” cried Hannah, not at all pleased.  “Now stop staring and eat your crisps.”   
Sammy was not pleased either.  He had put the pageant out of his mind for the time being, and had been concentrating on trying to impress the female guests with his pretended expertise at dress and makeup.  Why he should want to impress a bunch of little girls he did not stop to consider.  Perhaps he just wanted to divert attention from the basic fact he was nothing more than a big boy in a rather scanty girl’s costume.  This little episode didn’t help his purpose.  He tried to laugh it off.
“What a cute little kid!  Even if he did get the wrong end of the stick.”
“Harry’s very perceptive.  I think he’d love to come to your pageant.  All those pretty girls…”
“Well, yes, if it happens….  I don’t know if I’ll be accepted…”
“I’m sure you will, don’t worry,” said Hannah sympathetically, touching his arm.  “Tell me, if you win, do you get one of those things to hold?”
“A sceptre?” suggested Paige.
“Yes, that’s it!”
“I’m not sure,” said Sammy with a nervous laugh.  And then, to change the subject, “Well, I guess we’re all here, and most of the parents have left, so…”  He eyed the food.
“Not quite,” said Paige, looking out of the window.  “My brother promised to drop in.  But he doesn’t always do what he’s promised.  So I don’t know…”
“Wait.  Isn’t that him now?” said Hannah, pulling back the curtain.
“Oh, yes!”  said Paige.  “Great!  You may know him, Sammy.  Are you at Cranfield High?  He started there last year.”
An icy hand gripped his heart.  The boy now making his way up the front path looked vaguely familiar.  Sammy was in year eight.  This kid was in year seven.  He didn’t know his name.
“Oscar.  Do you know him?”
Sammy shook his head.  The colour had drained from his face.
“I’ll go let him in.”
A moment later she was back, accompanied by Oscar.  He was an inch taller than Sammy, despite being a year younger.  He had a pleasant, open face under a thatch of dark hair, and smiling eyes. 
“Let me introduce you,” said Paige.  She led him over to where Sammy and Hannah were standing.  This is Hannah, and this is Sammy.  Guys, this is Oscar.  You may know Sammy, Oscar.”
“Hi.  I don’t think so,” replied Oscar, looking at Sammy with great interest but complete absence of recognition.
“He’s in year eight at your school.”
“He…?”  His mouth fell open.  “You…you’re Sammy who was in the photos…  I mean, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t recognise you, I…”  He blushed bright red, and nervously brushed his hair back with his hand.  Oh, well, thought Sammy, at least I seem to have the advantage of him for the time being.  He smiled, but said nothing, preferring to see how Oscar would handle it.
“I…I…I mean, you look completely different.  Yes…er…I was just dropping in, you know, cos my sister asked me…”  He seemed completely at a loss.  He stared at Sammy’s shiny pink lips with something like panic on his face.  Sammy had expected smirks and sarcasm, not this.  Paige came to the rescue.
“Oscar, Sammy’s entering for a pageant.  He practising.  What do you think of his outfit?”
“Oh, er, I see.”  He gulped.  “It’s stunning,” he added, with what seemed like real sincerity, nervously looking Sammy up and down again.  “When is it?”
“Next month,” said his sister.  “We’re all going.  You could come too, if you wanted.”
“Oh, yeah, great!”  He was recovering his cool.  “I’m sure you’ll do well, Sammy.  It’s a great outfit.  Will you be wearing other stuff too?”
It seemed like the pageant was inescapable now.  Sammy capitulated.
“Yeah, I guess.  My aunt’s seems to be in charge, though.  You’d have to ask her.”
“Oh, yes.  I guess all the competitors have a manager of some sort.”
“Yes, that’s right.  I hadn’t even twigged!  I’m just a pawn!”
“Putty in her hands.”
“An extension of her ego!”
They laughed.  This Oscar really wasn’t a bad bloke.  Oscar hesitated.
“Sammy?  Would you mind if…”  He brought out his phone.  Sammy sighed.
“What, so you can hawk them all round school again?  No way.”
“No, I wouldn’t!”  Oscar looked horrified.  “I’d never do anything like that!  Tell him, Paige.”
“He wouldn’t.  It’s not what you think.  He really loves your outfit, that’s all.”
“He loves my outfit?”
“Paige, that’s enough,” interjected Oscar, alarmed.  But Paige ignored him.
“He probably envious.  Let him take a picture.”
Oscar blushed.  Sammy looked from him to Paige, and back again.
“Really?”
“They’d just be for me,” said Oscar, looking at the floor.
“Okay…I guess…” 
“With my sister and Hannah?”
“Go ahead then.”
Sammy posed with one, then the other, then with both of them, one on each side, their arms round his waist.  Then Paige took one of him and Oscar.  The others wanted to get in on the act, too.  Daphne, of course.  Eventually, the whole party got together in one big bunch.  Sammy was enjoying himself.  Why was this so much nicer than being out on the streets with the lads?  Why did it even matter?

Oscar stayed for several more minutes, but then he had to leave.  Sammy walked him to the front door.  They exchanged phone numbers.
“I’ll send you the best photos later on today,” said Oscar,  “if you like.”
“Yes please.”  Sammy paused.  “Oscar?  Do you really like my costume?”
“It’s very, very cool, Sammy.”
“I didn’t choose it, you know.  I was sort of forced.”
“But you like it now?  I can see you’re very comfortable wearing it.”
Sammy laughed.  “I suppose I am, now.  I need to be, if I’m gonna do this pageant they want to put me in.”
“You nervous?”
“Very.”
“Don’t be.  If you want any moral support, call me.  Okay?”
“You’re a mate, Oscar.  See you on Monday, then.”
“Yeah.  See you.”
Sammy returned to the party.
“Your brother’s a nice guy,” he said to Paige.
“I know.  I’m lucky.”
“You are.”

[Sandra B]

8.
After everyone had given their presents – Amelia loved her new doll - Sammy, his nervousness somewhat dissipated, turned his attention to the food.  He didn’t even mind posing for more photographs.  He felt confident that though they may be circulated around Lakefield Primary, they would never reach Cranfield, such was the rivalry and distrust between the two schools.

Mrs Hughes approached him, and rubbed one hand gently up and down the small of his back, in a rather too familiar manner.
“Some of the girls would like you to practise your twirls.  I think Scarlett put them up to it.  She says she can give you some advice about how to present yourself.”
She gave him a friendly leer.  Her hand lingered on his back a little too long.  He thought it would be a good excuse to escape.
“Sure.”
Scarlett came over and took him by the hand.  She led him to the far side on the room.  Amelia was there, looking slightly embarrassed. 
“Sorry about my mum.  She likes you a bit too much.  She’s harmless, though.”
“Now,” said Scarlett, “the first thing is balance.”  She turned over a square metal wastebin.
“Here, stand on this and let me see how you are.”
She helped him up.  The bin was far from stable, and he stood there, swaying and teetering, determined not to fall off. 
“Now do a complete circle.  Go on.”
Sammy rotated slowly.  His face was a picture of concentration.  The sight of him lurching about in his tight little swimsuit on his high heels elicited giggles and squeals of laughter from the guests.  Mrs Hughes, meanwhile, was gleefully videoing his antics, and deciding which of her friends were going to be lucky enough to be sent the result.
Scarlett really put him through his paces.  She coached him on his walking, his curtseying, and his posture.
“Hmm.  You need some lessons in deportment.  I can probably sort it out for you.  Now, you also need to learn to be able to stand still and quiet even when there are all sorts of distractions around.  The best test I know is this.  Stand up on a chair – here, that’s right.  Now, put your hands on your hips, and keep them there.  You must attempt to remain calm, graceful and dignified, even when I start to tickle you.  I’m going to start gently at your ankles, and work my way up.  Get it?”
“Do we have to do this now, Scarlett?”
“What better time?  You’ve only got a month.  We need to get started straight away.  Now face the girls.  That’s right.  Ready?”
It was the best floor show they could have hoped for.  Scarlett’s fingers played lightly up and down his legs, over his bottom, and up to his ribs.  She worked relentlessly, with a determined smile or her face, till she had him dancing and squirming on the chair.  His audience was helpless with laughter – the girls could hardly hold their phones steady.  Mrs Hughes was ecstatic.  But Scarlett didn’t let him off the hook.  Every time he pleaded for her to stop, or took a hand off his hip, she rebuked him with some severity.  Even as he stood there, wriggling and gyrating, he blushed to the roots of his hair at the spectacle he knew he must be presenting.  She kept him dancing for the best part of half an hour, till, with a pathetic whimper, he cried, “Please!  Let me down!  Or I’m going to wet myself!”
Scarlett grinned, and gave him a slap on his bottom.
“Go on then, Princess.  But hurry back, mind!”
The girls were exhausted with laughing, and lay around comparing notes on Sammy’s performance.  When he returned, still very red-faced, he was greeted with a round of applause.  And for the rest of the day he was continually reminded of his humiliation by the stray fingers which every now and then alighted on the backs of his thighs, and the sharp fingertips which were pressed into his ribs.

When the party ended, Sammy was a little surprised to be collected, not by Patricia or Cecily, but by a pretty girl with very long, straight blonde hair.
“Kayley!” shouted Daphne, hugging her, “what are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to collect you, darling.  I’ll be staying over tonight.  Hello.  You must be Sammy.  I’m Kayley, Daphne’s cousin.  I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Hi.  Nice to meet you.”
Very nice, thought Sammy.

[Sandra B]

9.
The encounter with Sammy had stirred something profound within Oscar’s psyche.  After he got home that evening, and had sent Sammy the pictures, he tried to analyse it.  First, there was the obvious and inescapable fact that he had found Sammy breathtakingly attractive when he first saw him and thought he was a girl.  He evaded the question of what he felt when he was told the truth.  But there was something else, something much more basic.  He had envied Sammy.  His costume was so perfect, it suited him and fitted him so well.  He wondered what it must be like to be dressed like that, and when he did so, his heart beat a little faster, and his cheeks flushed.
When Paige got home, she ran straight upstairs to his room.
“So, Oscar.  What did you think of Sammy?”
“He seems really nice.”
“Yeah.  But what did you think of his costume?”
“Oh, er, yeah, it was great…”
“Is that all you can say?  I saw you looking at it.  Weren’t you jealous?”
“Jealous?”
“Yes, jealous!  Don’t just repeat what I say.  You’re avoiding the question.  Wouldn’t you like to wear something like that?  I mean, I would.”
“But you’re a girl…”
“Oh, you’ve noticed.  Stop prevaricating.”  (Paige was quite precocious.) 
“I suppose…”
“I know you like girl’s clothes.  Mummy knows too.  Remember that time she caught you…”
“Yes, all right!  Don’t bring that up again!  So what if I do?  I don’t have an outfit like that, anyway.”
“You could ask mummy.  Maybe you could go to the pageant with him…”
“Go to the pageant…what do you mean…take part?”
“Yes, silly.  The two of you could go together.  You’d be doing him a big favour.  Underneath he terribly nervous about it.”
“He is?”
“Yes!  It’s his first one!”
Oscar stared at her, startled.  He was quite a solitary boy.  He had taken a liking to Sammy, to put it mildly, and the thought of sharing such an experience suddenly opened up a new vista in his life.  He knew he and Sammy were going to get on, he knew they were going to be friends, and that…that would cement their friendship like nothing else.
“I know you want to.  I can tell.  And Sammy really likes you, too.  He told me so.”
“He said that?”
“Yes!  Stop being so shy, Oscar.  Go and ask mummy if you can.  If you don’t, I will!”
“Give me a moment…”
“Mummy?  Mummy!”
Paige was already heading downstairs.
“What is it dear?  You seem very hyped up after that party.  You on drugs or something?”
“Very funny, mum.  And totally inappropriate to say to a ten-year-old.”
“Ten going on thirty,” remarked her mother, under her breath.
“Listen, mum.  It’s about Oscar.  He wants to go to a pageant.  As a girl.  Will you help?”
“What?”
“You heard.  You know he’s into that dressing-up stuff.  Now there’s an opportunity for him to go and do it for real.  His friend’s going.  He’s gorgeous, by the way.  Oscar really wants to go with him, but he’s too timid to say.”
“Well, what does he say? I mean…”
“Mum.”  Oscar had appeared in the doorway.
“There you are.  What’s all this about a pageant?”
“I know it’s stupid.  If my friends ever found out…  But it’s true.  I can’t actually think of anything more exciting.  And I’d be with a friend.”
His mother looked at him and smiled.  “You know you can go if you want to.  You already know my views.  Of course I’ll help, too.  Just be sure you’re doing the right thing…”
“I’m sure.  I’d have to talk to Sammy first, of course.  Make sure he wants me to go too.”
“Course he does,” said Paige, impatiently.
“Okay.  Well talk to him, and if you’re sure, we’ll do what’s necessary.  Find out about entry fees and all that.  Where is it?”
“Westford,” said Paige.  “Next month.”
“I wouldn’t need anything fancy.  Not the first time…”
“Well we can talk about that when you’ve sorted out the preliminaries.  Keep me informed.”
“Thanks, mum.”  He went over and gave her a hug.  “Thanks for being so understanding.”
She laughed.  “I'm understanding, even if I don’t understand.  It’s your life, darling, and you must live it according to your own lights.”

Oscar returned to his room.  He was trembling slightly, and tingling with excitement.  He went to his chest, opened the bottom drawer, and riffled through his little collection of girls’ panties.  Imagine a whole outfit!  Maybe two!  Imagine parading in front of an appreciative audience!  He downloaded the photos from his phone, picked out the one of himself and Sammy, printed it, and stuck it on his wall. 
He stared at it for a moment.  “I hope you’ll be my friend,” he murmured.