ALL STORY LIST | PARTS - PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4
: The Worst Thing My Mother Ever Said
The day started badly and got worse. My mother said something that made me so angry. I could not believe she said it.
"Jamie," she said. "Your friends think of you as one of the girls." I just stared at her. "What?" I said. "You heard me," she said. She was making breakfast. She did not look at me when she talked.
"Mom, that is the craziest thing you have ever said." She put the eggs on a plate. "Is it?"
"Yes!" I said. "I am a boy. I am eighteen years old. My friends know I am a boy." "They let you hang around because you are like a girl to them." I wanted to scream.
My friends did not think that. Sam and Casey and Taylor and Jamie—they knew I was a boy. They liked me because I was fun. Not because they thought I was a girl.
I was so mad I almost called Sam to say I would not come shopping. But then I thought: No. I will go. And I will prove my mother wrong. I went to my room to get dressed. It was summer. Hot outside. I wanted to wear shorts.
Girls were lucky. They could wear skirts when it was hot. Shorts were the next best thing. Sometimes shorts were better. You could wear very short shorts and still look normal. I had three pairs of shorts. One pair was tight denim. I liked those. One pair was red. I borrowed them from Casey a few months ago. I never gave them back. One pair was blue. I bought them for the beach.
I put all three on my bed. It was hard to choose. The denim shorts looked good. But they were stiff. Not great for hot weather. The red ones were more comfortable. But I did not want to look strange next to my friends. The blue ones were okay too.
I bit my lip. Just pick one, I told myself. I put on the denim shorts. They were tight. Really tight. When I wore them for more than an hour, they left marks on my legs. Red marks on my skin. I looked in the mirror. They would work. Some boys wear socks with shorts. Can you believe that? That is so wrong. I had blue sandals. Nice ones. I put them on. My knees looked a bit funny. But okay.
Now I needed a top. It was going to be a very hot day. We would walk around the shops for hours. I put deodorant on my armpits. Lots of it. They looked white underneath. That might be a problem if I lifted my arms. But at least I would not smell bad.
I chose a tight black top. It left my arms out. That would keep me cool. I did not really like my arms. They were skinny. Pale. Not like Jamie's arms. Jamie had nice arms. Dark skin. Strong.
My arms looked more like Casey's. And Casey had red hair and freckles. At least I did not have as many freckles as her.
The tight shorts had one problem. I could not put things in the pockets. It ruined the shape. So I had a small bag. I put my money in it. A hairbrush. Some other small things. At first, I felt shy carrying it. I thought people would think it was a purse.
But after a while, I got used to it. People did not stare. I checked my bag. Put my phone inside. Put the bag over my shoulder. I was ready. I would not be late, but my mother was not done. When I tried to leave, she looked at me. "What do you think you look like?" she said.
"I look cool," I said. "You look like a girl," she said. "Oh, really?" I said. "Do girls wear their hair like this?" I let my hair hang loose. Sometimes I wore it in a ponytail. Just to make her mad. But today it was down.
"And I did not shave my legs," I said. "I am just not very hairy."
My mother could not understand why I did not look like my dad. My dad was an athlete. Big. Strong. I was eighteen. Still skinny. Still short. Maybe I did look a bit like a girl. But lots of eighteen-year-old boys look like girls. Unless they are really athletic. I did not see what the problem was.
"I do not want to talk about this anymore," I said. I walked out of the house. I did not look back. I had to run to the bus stop. My mother made me late. I saw the bus leave. It was the one we were supposed to take. It left before I got to the stop.
I was sad as I walked the last bit to the bus stop. My friends would be gone. I would have to take the next bus alone. But when I turned the corner, I saw them. Three people at the bus stop. Sam. Casey. Jamie. They waved at me.
They had missed the bus on purpose. They waited for me. That was why I loved these friends. I ran to them. I was out of breath. We kissed each other on the cheeks. That was what we always did. I told them about my mother. How stupid she was. I did not tell them what she said. About me being one of the girls. That would be weird to talk about. Jamie looked at my top.
"I like that," she said. My heart jumped. I liked all my friends. But I liked Jamie the most. She was tall. Dark skin. Curly hair. Her dad was Black. She was so beautiful. She was also good at running. Better than me. Better than most boys at school.
Only Taylor was as fast as her. Taylor was going to meet us at the mall. It felt so good to be with my friends.
For the next fifteen minutes, we talked about what we would buy. We laughed like little kids. Sam told us that a boy from school called her last night. He asked her out. That happened to her a lot. She was blonde. Pretty. The boy was not cool. We all laughed about him. Then the bus came. We got on. Paid our money.
The driver looked at us. "Where are you girls going?" he asked.
We all laughed. Every time we went somewhere, people thought we were all girls, even me. At first, I did not like it. But I got used to it.
Now I thought it was funny.
I did not really look like a girl. I did not have breasts. I did not wear makeup. Just a little eyeliner sometimes. Lots of boys wore that. I blew the driver a kiss as we walked to the back of the bus. We sat down to keep talking. The ride to the mall was twenty minutes. We talked about many things.
Jamie did not talk as much as the rest of us. She never did. She took out a magazine and started reading. I did my impression of Miss Jenkins. Our games teacher. She was a lesbian. She even smoked cigars. Everyone laughed.
We laughed so much we almost missed our stop. The driver had to tell us. He said he was going for his coffee break. We got our bags and got off the bus. We walked into the mall. Taylor was going to meet us there. Taylor loved running. She ran every morning. We thought she probably ran to the mall. Gross. On a hot day like this? She would show up in a tracksuit. All sweaty.
Sam said the shops would not let her try on clothes. I agreed. Who wants to try on something a sweaty person tried on before you? Jamie said she would go find Taylor. Sam, Casey, and I started shopping.