Jess slammed the door behind us as we entered the house.

“I cannot fucking believe this shit!” she shouted.

“Hey!” came our mother’s voice from the kitchen. “Language!”

“Sorry mum!” my sister said. “But it’s just… They…” she tried to say, but then gave a frustrated scream. She was entirely too angry to be able to properly form words; I’d rarely seen her so upset.

Mum came into the living room, wiping her hands on her apron and then placing them on my sister’s shoulders and staring at her in the eyes. “Jessica,” she said. “Remember, what do we do when we’re angry?”

“…Deep breaths,” Jess replied.

Mum nodded. “Breathe with me. In and out.” She motioned with her hand, up and down, breathing in and out, my sister joining her. After a few repetitions of this exercise, Jess had apparently managed to get her emotions under control.

“Now, mind telling me what has made you so upset?” mum asked.

Jess sighed, took off her backpack, and produced a sheet of paper from it. “Look at this. Just… Look,” she said, handing it to mum, who took it and began to read aloud.

“To all students and parents, it has come to my attention that some of the girls currently enrolled at this school have been taking advantage of the warm spring weather to wear clothes that are entirely inappropriate for a learning environment, as they are distracting for both male students and faculty.”

My mum’s eyebrows shot up, and she glanced up at us. We nodded, and she resumed reading.

“Therefore, starting next Monday, the following dress code will be put into place: girls are not to wear skirts shorter than knee-length. Any violation will be punished with detention, or any other disciplinary measure I will deem appropriate. Signed, Doctor Lucien Ross, principal.”

She paused, staring at the paper, then started reading it again from the top.

“I cannot fucking believe this shit,” she said once she was done.

“Mum!” I said with mock indignation.

“Don’t even start, Andrew, your sister was entirely justified in swearing this time,” she said, pointing a finger at me. “This is some right bullshit, right here. They are distracting for male students and faculty? Oh, just wait.”

She marched over to the living room table, where she’d left her cell phone, picked it up, and dialled.

“Jen,” she said. “Is Annie back from school yet? So I guess you’ve read the message. Right. Right. Okay, let me make some calls, we’ll get a consensus from all the parents and then call the school. Yeah, I’ll do it. Okay, bye.”

She ended the call and then looked up at us. “Don’t worry, kids, and let mum handle it. Now go along and do your homework, dinner’s in three hours,” she said with a smile.

Three hours later, at dinner, she was no longer smiling.

“That sexist, good-for-nothing, idiotic turd,” she muttered into a forkful of mashed potatoes. “I cannot believe he outright refused to meet with us, or even listen.”

“What did he say, exactly?” Jess asked.

“I have been named principal by the school board, and I’m a PhD and expert peda… Pedagi…” she began, then stopped. “What was the word again, Frank?”

“Pedagogue,” my father replied, reaching for a slice of bread.

“Right, that. I’m an expert pedagogue and I know how to provide a healthy and proper learning environment for children, so my decision stands.” She scoffed. “Children. You kids are sixteen and seventeen, you’re almost adults,” she told us. “And besides, what he wrote was clearly out of line. Boys have to learn not let their eyes wander, and teachers should already know how to do it. Telling girls to cover up is nothing but a steaming pile of victim blaming shit.”

“Calm down, dear, you’re getting worked up again,” dad said.

Mum sighed. “I know, I know, it’s just… I hate this kind of stuff.”

“I know you do,” dad soothed her, reaching over and rubbing her hand to comfort her.

“At this point the only option we have is to go over his head, directly to the school board, but that will take time.” She sighed again. “I’m sorry, Jess. I guess you won’t be able to wear your new skirt at school on Monday.”

“It’s no big deal,” Jess shrugged. “Well no, it is a big deal, but there’s nothing we can do about it right now, is there? We’ll just have to wait and hope the school board overturns it.”

“Yeah,” I murmured.

“Are you okay, Andrew?” mum asked. “You’re quiet.”

“No, no, I’m alright,” I said, snapping back to reality.

In truth, I’d been thinking about the whole situation. And I had an idea.

After dinner we helped mum and dad tidy up the kitchen, and then my sister and I walked upstairs; instead of heading to my room, however, I followed Jess to hers. She understood, opened the door, motioned me inside, and shut the door behind us.

“What’s on your mind?” she asked, smiling and sitting down on the bed.

“I’ve been thinking,” I replied. “Have you read the letter carefully? Fully understood what’s written on it?”

She frowned at the memory. “Of course. It says students cannot wear skirts shorter than knee-length, along with some sexist and misogynistic bullshit.”

I shook my head. “No, that’s not what it says. Here, read it again.” I pulled out my own copy – we were each given one, of course – and handed it to her.

She made a face, and refused with a gesture. “I’d rather not. Tell me.”

“Well, the relevant part is here,” I said, and read aloud the passage I was referring to. “Girls are not to wear skirts shorter than knee-length.” I looked up at her. “Do you get it? It specifically says girls, boys are apparently allowed to wear whatever they please.”

“Okay, that’s one more piece of sexist bullshit for the pile,” Jess replied. “How does that help us?”

“Well…” I hesitated, but continued. “I was thinking. If you can’t wear your new skirt at school on Monday… Maybe I can wear it instead?”

My sister stared at me in surprise, and then her gaze softened. “Are you sure about this, sis?” she asked. “I thought you didn’t want to give anything away, not until you’re ready to tell mum and dad.”

I sighed, and flopped down on the bed beside her. “I know,” I said. “But… This is kind of the perfect chance, isn’t it? I can wear a skirt out of the house, and everyone will think I’m doing it for solidarity. No one will suspect anything, especially if we manage to rope some other boys into it.”

Jess smiled and pulled me over to her. “Some boys period, no other about it,” she said, mussing my hair. “You’re not a boy, Andrea.”

My sister was the only one who knew my secret. She’d learned about it one day two years prior, when our parents were out and she found me crying in my room because my beard had started growing; at first she had no idea why I was in such despair, but then I opened up to her. “I should’ve been born a girl,” I’d forced out, between sobs.

She’d been wonderful about it. Since then she’d allowed me to borrow her clothes, and I’d dressed up every time we were home alone; she helped me shave both my beard and my body hair, taught me how to do make-up, and whenever no one could hear us she referred to me as Andrea and sis. She was a shining ray of light through my dysphoric depression, and she’d even told me she would stand by my side when I was ready to tell our parents. I don’t know what I did to deserve a sibling like her.

“You’ve helped me a lot so far, Jess,” I said. “Let me help you in return this time.”

She looked at me in the eyes, saw my expression, and nodded. “Alright. How do we do this?”

“I’ll send a group chat message to my class,” I said, grabbing my phone. “You can do the same with yours.”

She nodded.

“As for the others…” I continued. “I don’t know, I don’t really know anyone outside my class.”

Jess put a finger to her chin. “Maybe we could ask Viv? She knows lots of people around the school.”

“Good idea,” I nodded. Vivian was a member of the student council, and also president of the GSA at our school; if we asked her, spreading the word would be real easy.

“Alright. Tomorrow’s Friday, and then we’ll have the weekend to go over the details,” Jess said.

“Yes, let’s do that,” I replied, standing up. “Good night, Jess.”

She stood up too, and gave me a hug. “Good night, sis. Sleep well.”

 

 

On Monday, everything was ready. During the weekend we’d spread the word far and wide, and managed to get a good number of the boys at the school to go along with our plan: that morning, almost two hundred male students would go to school wearing dresses and miniskirts borrowed from friends and relatives. Of course for most of them it was just the skirt, but I’d heard that someone had decided to compliment the look with a blouse, or a feminine t-shirt, or an accessory, to finish the outfit.

As for me, I’d pulled out all stops. Helped by my sister Jessica I’d combed my short hair and styled it a bit, fixing it in place with some hairspray, so it had an unmistakeably feminine pixie cut; I’d carefully done my make-up, and she’d even tweezed my eyebrows (they looked much better than they usually did).

And I’d borrowed her new skirt, of course. It was black and came down to mid-thigh, much shorter than the new regulations allowed for. I’d finished the look with a purple blouse that was clearly feminine and a pair of sheer black tights. I’d even put on a padded bra, which gave the illusion I had a bit of a chest, and my sister gave me her heeled boots to wear.

“You look stunning, sis,” Jess said when we’d completed my look. “You ready to go?”

I nodded. “Let’s knock some sense into that idiot.”

It was already getting late, and we could spot the school bus out of the window; we rushed downstairs and shouted “Bye mum!” as we ran out the door, getting a “Have a good day, kids!” in return, shouted at us from the kitchen.

I gulped as the bus stopped in front of us. Well, here goes nothing.

We climbed aboard, and walked to the back, to take our usual spots; Ryan was already there. He was my childhood friend: we were in the same class, and he lived about a half mile down the street from me. He was wearing a red skirt, along with his usual grey t-shirt with MUSIC BAND written on it – a reference to a TV show, apparently.

“Morning, Jess!” he greeted my sister. “How are you?” Then he frowned. “Where’s Andy? And who’s the new girl?” he asked.

Jess and I looked at each other, then started laughing. “I’m Andi. With an I,” I said, chuckling. “Nice to meet you.”

Ryan’s eyes widened. “What the hell? Damn, bro, you look…”

“Stunning?” I said. “I’ve been told. And today it’s not bro, it’s sis. Or girl if you prefer.”

Ryan stared at me. “Did I miss the memo? It was just a skirt, wasn’t it?”

“It was,” I nodded. “But then I thought, why not have some fun with it?”

Ryan kept staring for a few moments, then shook his head. “If you say so.”

Jess and I sat down as the bus started moving again. “It was really cool of you and Viv to set this whole thing up,” Ryan said. “I never would’ve thought about protesting like this.”

I shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Someone has to take a stand sometimes.”

“By the way,” he asked, “Are you and Vivian dating?”

“Wh-- How--” I sputtered, surprised by the sudden question. “Why would you ask that?”

“Well, you know, you seem to be good friends, and managed to coordinate this protest very well. You’re good together,” he replied.

I stared at him. “Ryan.”

“Andi?”

“Viv is the president of the GSA,” I pointed out.

It was his turn to shrug. “So?”

“…She’s a lesbian.”

His eyebrows rose up. “She is?”

I let out an exasperated sigh. “I swear, sometimes I wonder if you pay attention to anything at all.”

What Ryan had said had some truth in it, though. I’d had the biggest crush on Vivian for like, forever. Ever since the first time I’d laid eyes on her, a few days after starting junior high.

But she would never go for someone like me.

We kept chatting all the way to the school; mostly we were wondering about what would happen that day. We’d planned to meet up with all our co-conspirators, so that we would march into the school as one, rather than simply trickling in. Therefore, when the bus stopped in the parking lot we quickly got off and made our way to the gathering point. There were already several dozen people there – mostly boys in skirts, milling around awkwardly, clearly not used to the breezy freedom skirts allowed them. A few were wearing tights, but most were bare-legged: I could see some of them had shaved their legs.

Vivian had preceded us, and was waiting for us when we arrived; she was wearing trousers, like every other girl I’d seen that morning – word had gotten around about what we’d been planning: we’d advised all girls to avoid making a scene and let the boys take the heat. “Hi, Jess!” she said cheerily. “Where is…”

Her gaze turned to me, and her eyes widened, becoming even wider that Ryan’s had. “Andy?” she asked.

“With an I,” I smiled.

She was momentarily at a loss for words, but then shook herself. “Damn, you look--”

“Stunning. She’s been told,” Ryan said.

We all turned to look at him. “She?” we said in unison.

“Well, I mean,” Ryan said, turning to me. “You did say that it’s sis or girl for today, so I thought you might want to use feminine pronouns too? I’m sorry, did I screw up?”

I hesitated for a moment, then replied, “No, it’s alright. I like them better anyway. For today, I mean,” I quickly added, seeing Viv and Ryan give me a capital-L Look.

“Mmhmm,” she said. She sounded utterly unconvinced.

We waited for a bit, and the crowd kept growing in size; ten minutes before the bell was to ring, there must have been about one hundred and fifty boys wearing skirts there.

“Alright, listen up!” Viv said loudly, after calling for everyone’s attention. “Here’s the plan. When you get to class, the teachers will probably try to engage with you as soon as they notice what you’re wearing. Do not talk back, and do not argue with them.”

“The only thing you have to say is that, according to the new dress code, there’s no rule against boys wearing skirts,” I continued. “Otherwise: plead the fifth. Even if they ask you questions, or demand to know who organised all this, you do not answer.” I paused, and ran my eyes over the crowd. “Any questions?”

“You’re cute! Can I have your number?” called a voice.

“If you behave maybe I’ll let you buy me lunch after this!” I shouted back, causing a general burst of laughter to erupt. “Anything else?” When no one replied I said, “Well then, people, showtime, let’s go!”

Almost as a whole, the crowd marched to the school doors and then moved in; we got some bewildered stares from those who hadn’t heard about what we’d planned, but mostly people cheered and nodded approvingly as we passed. Ryan and I made our way to our classroom and sat down; the math professor arrived, and began to take roll call. When he called my name and I raised my hand, saying “Here,” was when the fun began. He boggled at me, eyes as wide as saucers.

“Andrew, what the hell are you wearing?” he asked.

“Clothes,” I replied.

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t be cheeky with me young man. Why are you wearing a skirt?”

I shrugged. “Ain’t no rule that says boys can’t wear skirts.”

“There is. It’s the new dress code,” the teacher said, frowning.

“No it’s not,” Ryan said from the back of the room, waving a copy of the letter that had been given to us the previous week. “Says here that girls can’t wear skirts shorter than knee-length, but it doesn’t say anything about boys.”

The teacher’s frown deepened. “Give me that,” he said, marching to Ryan – giving him a once-over when he saw Ryan was wearing a skirt, too – and snatching the sheet of paper from his hand. He carefully read what was written on it, and his face went pale, just a little bit. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, and then left the classroom in a hurry.

There was a moment of silence, and then the room erupted into laughter. Several people got up from their desks and came over to me and Ryan, congratulating and patting us on the back.

“Thank you, thank you,” I said. “But hold on on the congratulations, I think we still have some work to do.”

As I’d guessed, about ten minutes later the PA system crackled to life. “All students, assemble in the gym immediately,” came the principal’s voice; we obeyed, getting up and marching over to the gym, where we were made to line up in front of the stands. The principal was pacing up and down along the lowest tier, and continued to give us withering stares as we filtered in. All in all, it took about half an hour before everyone got in. Then the principal called for silence, and faced the crowd; his eyes narrowed in seeing just how many of the boys were wearing skirts.

“Who did this?” he demanded.

No one answered.

“I asked you a question!” he repeated, shouting the two final words. “I do my best to provide a positive learning environment, and you make a mockery of my rules!” He took a deep breath. “If the ones who came up with this don’t come forward right now, every boy who isn’t wearing trousers will get a one week suspension, and will be barred from after-school activities for the rest of the year!” he threatened.

Without hesitating I raised my hand; out of the corner of my eye, I could see Jess and Viv do the same. We’d always planned to come forward, though we didn’t think the principal would resort to such threats.

“You three, step forward,” he said. We complied, walking to the front of the crowd.

“Well. What do you have to say for yourself?” he asked.

“Your rules are dumb and antiquated,” Viv said. “Also, they place guilt on girls just for wearing clothes you don’t approve of.”

Jess nodded. “Precisely. Men are the ones who should avoid staring, saying otherwise is just victim blaming.”

The principal’s face had gone red, but he managed to keep his cool. “And yet, you’re not wearing a skirt today,” he said. “Curious. Perhaps you were afraid of being punished? At least your friend has some guts.” He turned to me. “What’s your name?”

“Andi. With an I,” I replied, crossing my arms in front of me.

“Well, Andi, you’re in violation of the dress code. One week’s detention,” he shot back. “As for you…”

“No I’m not.”

He’d started turning towards Viv and Jess, but looked back at me when I spoke up. “What?”

“I’m not violating any rules,” I said.

The principal looked at me carefully. “You’re a boy?” he asked. “But you’re wearing a skirt! Tights! Heels! Make-up, even!”

“So what if I am?”

He shook his head; he was clearly seething. “You’re just making a sorry spectacle of yourself. Men are supposed to look like men, and women are supposed to look like women, that’s the way it always has been.”

“Well, maybe I’m a girl then,” I said. I turned my back to him and waved to the crowd. “Hey, y’all! News flash! Starting today, I’m a girl!” I turned back to the principal. “I still won’t obey your stupid rules.”

His eyes flashed with anger. “Listen here, you little shit…” he hissed, but realised his mistake when everyone – students and teachers alike – gasped.

“Oh, oh my!” I said, putting my hand to my mouth and pretending to be shocked. “You said a bad word!”

Someone in the crowd chuckled, but the laugh was cut short when the principal glared in the general direction it had come from.

“You three,” he said, pointing at us. “To my office. Now.”

We nodded, and followed him to his office, two teachers walking closely behind us. When we arrived he had us sit down, and demanded to know our full names; then he called our parents. We sat in silence for probably half an hour, facing him, until mum and Viv’s father were shown into the office.

Mum had a sombre expression on her face, deadly serious; I’d rarely seen her like that. She glanced at us, doing a small double-take when she saw how I was dressed, and then said, in a chilly voice: “Kids, please go wait outside.”

“But…” the principal began, but she silenced him with a glare.

The three of us walked out of the office, and shut the door. We were out there for probably ten minutes, and we don’t know exactly what words were said, since the principal’s office had very good soundproofing; after a couple minutes we could clearly hear shouting though, getting louder and louder, until mum threw the door open and marched out.

“This isn’t over!” she said, pointing at the principal, who was still inside the room. Then she turned to us and said, “We’re leaving.”

We separated there: Viv went with her father, while Jess and I followed mum through the school’s corridors, headed towards the guest parking lot. “Mum…” I began to say, but she shushed me: “Don’t say anything until we’re in the car.”

Meekly, we kept following, until we reached her old, beaten up station wagon, climbed aboard (she in the driver’s seat, us in the back seat), and shut the door.

Then she was quiet for a few seconds. “Mum?” Jess asked.

In response, she just started laughing. Louder, and louder, and louder, until tears were streaming down her face. “Oh, god,” she guffawed. “His face, you should’ve seen his damn face! It was great, fantastic even,” she said, almost gasping for breath, she was laughing so hard.

Slowly her laughter subsided; she took out a tissue from her purse, and dried her eyes. “Man, I haven’t laughed so hard in years,” she said. “This was too good. I’m so fucking proud of you, kids.”

I don’t know what came over me, but at that moment I felt bold.

“Girls,” I said.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” she said, looking at us in the rear-view mirror; she was still taking deep breaths, calming herself down after her laugh. “I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I’m a girl too, mum. My name is Andrea.”

She spun around in her seat, and looked directly at me; I gulped. For a long, bone-chilling moment she just stared, without speaking, then her face broke into a grin.

“Well, nice to meet you, Andrea! I’m mum,” she said. She offered me her hand, and I hesitantly shook it.

She turned back to face the front. “Glad that’s cleared up,” she continued, putting her seat belt on and starting the car. “So, pizza and ice cream for lunch?”

 

 

The rest, as they say, is history. The school board called for an emergency meeting the very next evening: after all facts were presented and witnesses heard out, the principal was forced to rescind his dress code. Even more, he was ordered to write out three formal apology letters: one to the girls of the school, for trying to blame them for any boy’s wandering eye; one to the boys of the school, for assuming their eyes would wander and that they weren’t able to restrain themselves; and one to me, specifically, for calling me a little shit in front of the whole school. I still have that letter in my room somewhere, maybe I’ll get it framed one day.

That was too much for the principal: after he’d sent the letters, he resigned from his post and moved away. I don’t know what happened to him after that.

Viv, Jess, and I, were each given a week’s suspension, as a result of being the ringleaders of the protest, for “inciting students to disobey school rules and disrupting lessons.” We didn’t mind, it was worth it. After all, when we came back to school after the suspension we received a hero’s welcome. Nobody even seemed to mind that I was still wearing skirts after that, everyone took it in stride; though I still have to change clothes for gym in an empty classroom for the time being, while my parents and the school sort out the paperwork.

Something else happened before we returned to school, however. In the middle of our suspension week, Jess and I were hanging out in her room when the doorbell rang. After a few moments we heard the front door open, and then mum called up the stairs: “Jess, Andi, Viv’s here!”

“Send her up, mum!” Jess replied; Vivian made her way up the stairs, and entered Jess’ room.

“Hi, Viv!” I said. “What’s the occasion?”

She looked directly at me; she seemed a bit embarrassed. “Well, I was meaning to ask…” she said, then seemed to hesitate. But then she continued: “Do you maybe wanna go to the movies sometime?”

Jess and I exchanged glances. “You mean as a…”

“As a date, yes,” Viv clarified.

I looked at her. “Viv, aren’t you a lesbian?” I asked.

“I am,” she replied. “And you’re a girl.”

I blinked; my mouth fell open. How in the hell? I hadn’t even come out to anybody outside my family yet! “Jess!” I snapped, turning my head to glare at her.

“Hey, don’t look at me!” my sister protested. “I didn’t tell her!”

“That’s right, she didn’t,” Vivian confirmed. “It was a guess. A well educated guess, though, after… Everything.”

“…Was it really that obvious?” I asked.

“Yes, it was,” she nodded. “So let me ask again.”

She stepped forward and grabbed my hands. “Andi-with-an-I, would you like to go on a date with me?”

I felt blood rush to my cheeks, and my lips involuntarily drew back into a smile. Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Jess had a cheeky grin plastered on her face; I would get back at her eventually, but at that moment I didn’t mind.

“Yes, I would. Very much.”