The Prom Queen: A Story About A Lovely Boy -- Part 3 (2nd Section) free porn video

The Prom Queen: A Story About a Lovely Boy - Part Three (2nd Section) Copyright, 2006 by K. G. Communications (Note: This section of Part 3 of this story was left out in the transmission. For sequence purposes, it should be read before Part 4. The author apologizes) The public announcement that a boy would be running as prom queen at Carney High spread like wildfire; by 2 p.m. on the day it was posted, there were television trucks outside the school, interviewing students as they left that day. Channel 5 led off its "News at Six" program with the headline, "What? A Boy as Queen?" superimposed over a picture of Corey from last year's School Yearbook showing a sweet androgynous face, with longish hair wafting over one forehead, looking quite flirty. Virtually all the students interviewed expressed a mocking disgust with Corey's decision: "Uckky," was the one word comment of a sweet-faced sophomore named Deirdre; "It's unchristian," said another round-faced junior girl; "He's shaming the whole school with this idea," said Jon Quincy, vice president of the Student Council; "He's making a mockery of the Prom." The school refused to let the television cameras into the school, sparing both Corey and Mark from direct humiliation. Channel 10 sent its truck to Corey's home, but he had beaten them home, and stayed indoors, closing the curtains. He refused to answer either the persistent ringing by reporters of the door, but he sisters weren't so lucky. They were caught on camera, hiding their faces and running into the house. "Now, see what you've done," cried his sister Ronnie as she entered, her eyes in tears. "I'll never be able to go out of this house." Even his younger sister, who had enjoyed helping Corey dress, was crying. Corey began crying, too, tears running down his lightly massacred face. "Oh, I'm so sorry about this, my darlings." His mother, too, was caught on camera, and Corey watched with amazement from a split in the curtains with his sisters, as his mother stopped and faced the pursuing cameras and started pointing her finger firmly at the television crew. Of course they kept filming and thrust their microphones into their mothers' face. Then, she turned abruptly and came into the house. Corey rushed to her, tears still prominent on his face. "Oh mother, I'm so sorry.... I'm so sorry." He was dressed in light blue Capri pants and short sleeved pink sweater and his mother hugged him, drawing him tightly against her, letting Corey cry openly, his head resting on her breasts. She patted him gently. "Nothing to be sorry about," she said. Ronnie, however, grew angry, and yelled: "What do you mean? Nothing to be sorry about? Look what he's done to our family. Made us the biggest joke in town. I'll never be able to leave this house again." "That's enough, Ronnie," his mother retorted. "A faggot for a brother!" his sister screamed back, as if to have the last word. Her mother looked at Ronnette, and then said: "Listen all of you! I want you to all sit down here and listen to me." Their mother's voice was firm and definite; they knew she meant business. The two girls sat down on the couch and Corey on the recliner; their mother brought up a straight-backed chair and turned it around, straddling it and looking at the children. "First of all, we never call each other names. Never. We're a family. He's Corey, and not any other name. Got that straight. And that goes for all of you!" They nodded quickly. "Secondly, we are all going to have to rally together. Some people will be bothering us, called us names. They have no right to do that." They nodded again. "About Corey. He's always been a good brother to you; he has sacrificed his own fun to watch over you so I could work. And, he's been good to both of you." Ronnie said quickly: "Oh Corey's been super, but, mom, please, he's embarrassing all of us. What will my friends say?" "Let them say what they like. Corey's expressing himself, and he's being very brave. It's no shame to be a beautiful boy, and Corey is opening up a lot of minds in this town. "So I am proud of Corey. I'm not sure where this is going. But Corey's your brother, and he's a smart, decent brother." When the six o'clock news came on, they all watch Channel 10 together and saw their mother look straight at the camera and say: "What's wrong with a boy expressing himself? He's a brave son, and I wish him best, and hope he wins a Prom Queen. Now, get out of here and quit bothering us." They all applauded their mother and Corey went over and hugged her for dear life. Their cheer stopped abruptly, as the face of Mark appeared on the screen, with the words underneath reading, "The Boy Friend?" The opening commentary had been lost in their applause for their mother, but they heard Mark's reply clearly: "It's all been a big mistake. It was supposed to be a joke. Corey just went too far with it. The nomination was all in fun. I'm withdrawing it tomorrow." They sat in stunned silence. "I can't believe that," said his mother first. Even Ronnie agreed, "I've seen Lynn giving Corey tips on makeup and clothes. His sister wouldn't do that unless Mark asked her to." Corey didn't speak, looking blankly at the television set, as it continued its commentary. "Well folks," said the perfectly groomed, smooth-faced news anchor, with a barely disguised smirk. "Looks like our newest beauty queen needs a date for the prom. Any takers?" "Oh my God," said his mother, coming and sitting on the arm of the chair. "I think that's an awful thing for a friend to do. I thought Mark was better than that." "Mother, he is better than that. He's been made a joke in school now by all those other dumb kids. I understand." And Corey did understand, but that didn't stop him from breaking into loud sobs, and laying his head on his mother's lap. "It's Lynn, for Corey," announced Ronnie who answered a ringing phone that started as the newscast ended. Corey hesitated for a moment, but said, "Give it to me. I'll see what Lynn has to say." Before the "hello" had left Corey's lips, Lynn's words came gushing out: "That bastard little brother of mine. I'll kill him. The weasel." "Oh Lynn, I don't know what to say. He's always been my best friend. I was doing this for him." "Corey, dear, I'm so sorry for you. And, I wanna help." "I understand. Mark must have been teased and tortured by this." "You have been, too. But you're standing up to it." "It's easier for me, Lynn. I don't have a reputation of being a football hero and a macho guy to live up to. Look what Mark stands to lose: a football scholarship and the admiration of other guys." "Oh but he could have been nicer about it," Lynn interjected. "Lynn, you have been such a dear to help me become a pretty girl. As a boy, I was nothing. As a girl, I'm something special. You can help by continuing to be my friend." "Oh Corey, I want to be friends, always." "Look at the fun we have shopping. We really make nice girl friends, I think." "We do, Corey. And I'll talk to Mark, and see if he'll change his mind." "No Lynn, don't. Let it go. He's gone too far in writing me off." "The bastard." Corey let out a giggle. Lynn was so marvelous a friend. As far as Corey knew now, he was not going to the prom. "I love you, Lynn." "And I love you," Lynn finished. "Well, the pressure's off," Corey said in hanging up the phone. "No prom for me, girls." "What!" shouted Ronnette. "That sucks. Look what you've done for him." Corey looked at Ronnette, surprised at her outburst in sharing Corey's pain of rejection. She came over and hugged Corey, and soon Rachel and their mother joined and they all hugged together. "Oh Corey, you're pretty," Ronnette continued. "Like mom says, can we be sisters? I want you to be my older sister." "Ronnie, I want to be your older sister. You're the sweetest sister I could have." Their mother told them the next few days would be tough. The news and televison stories would bring snide comments at school, among their friends and even at her workplace. "Just hold your heads up high," she said. "Tell them that what your brother... er.... sister.... does his her business." "I'm sorry I am doing this to all of you," Corey said. "I'll quit this girl stuff and go back to being a boy. I'm out of the prom queen role anyway." "No! No!" protested Ronnie, quickly. "I find I love you as a sister." "Me too," echoed Rachel. "Honey," said their mother. "Let's sleep on this a bit. You don't know what will happen on the prom queen election. Maybe you're still in the election." "Oh mom, it's over. I should be a boy... 100%" "Is that what you want?" Corey took a minute: "I don't know. I don't know. I feel better as a girl, I think." The phone hadn't stopped ringing since the newscast. Ronnie agreed to answer the phone, and, on instructions from their mother, was successfully able to get rid of all news media callers with a "No Comment," and hang up. Other curiosity seekers she dispatched with a "Don't call again." Corey sat on the couch, his legs tucked beneath him, looking fragile and feminine. His feet and ankles sticking out from the Capri pants, lovely in sheer black knee high stockings. With one slender, white, smooth arm, he brushed his longish hair back off his forehead. "You are my older sister and I love you," said Rachel, who came over and snuggled up against him. Corey felt so warm and loved. His family had accepted him; not rejecting him as a "weirdo" or screwball. By accepting him as their sister and daughter he felt both giddy and warm at their love for him. His disappointment by Mark's change of heart and his outright lying about why Corey began dressing bothered him. How could a friend like Mark change so? They all knew the next few days were going to be difficult. The next morning, with his stomach churning over what was going to happen at school, Corey's mother entered his room as he was about to dress. "I think I'll put on my boy's clothes today, mom," he said. "Darling, is that what you want to do?" "Oh mom," he said, running to her arms, hugging her tightly. "I don't know what to do. Maybe I should just stay home and quit school." "Now, now," she said, patting his head as it lay one her breast. "I think you should dress like you always have been doing. Go to school, with your head up. You have done nothing to be ashamed of." "Oh, but mom, it's all over. Mark's lied and it's all over. I'll be the joke of the school." He began sobbing. "No, you won't. You'll be bullied or joked about by some. But they don't count." "I know, but... oh mom." She was right. Some like Jason might try to bully him, but he already had won the praise of Michael, Carol and most of the kids in ballet class. And, Mr. Mathias and Ms. Simmons, too. As he prepared for school the next day, Corey debated how to dress. Should he put on only his boy clothes? Should he dress in his unisex outfit, with the sequined shirt and light blue slacks? Or, should he go all out, for the first time in school, putting on dark blue Capri pants, a short sleeved peach-colored blouse, knee high beige stockings and sandals? "Mom, should I go to school like this?" he asked, after dressing in the feminine clothes. "Oh darling, you're so pretty in that outfit." "I love it!" He twirled about in his girlish manner, flicking his hair in an exaggerated move. "Maybe not yet," his mother said. Corey agreed it was too soon, and he reluctantly changed into his unisex outfit that he had been wearing for several weeks now. Michael was waiting for Corey at the school entrance that morning, and he greeted Corey with a warm smile. Corey wanted to run into his arms to be hugged and caressed; he needed comfort so bad. He resisted the urge. Together they entered the building, arms touching slightly as they walked. "Corey, I felt so bad for you. How could Mark do that to you?" "Oh, it's OK. Mark must have been teased, or something." "But, to lie like that!" "I'll be OK. Guess the prom queen stuff is over with, though? That's a relief." "Oh Corey, maybe it's not. Depends upon who's chosen. You're still a candidate, and I think you're as pretty as any of the girls." Otherwise, most kids avoided Corey during the first hours of classes, apparently not knowing what to say. Even Nicole, Mark's old girl friend who had fought with Corey earlier, nodded a friendly "Hi," and walked on without a word. Corey wanted to skip dance class that day, fearing the reaction of the girls of the class. Only Carol had become friendly with him during the class sessions, the others pointedly ignoring him and treating only with a cold courtesy that emanated from their teacher's demands that he be treated with respect. As much as he feared being humiliated by showing up at the ballet class that morning, he wasn't sure where else he could go for that hour. He felt like running into a corner and burying his head in his thin arms and crying, hiding away where no one would see him. Yet, he continued into the first floor dance room, which was located next to the gymnasium. He had, in truth, begun to enjoy the class, the other girls and the exercise routines. He had also begun to use the same outfits the girls did, the white or tan leotards, the tiny, short skirt and the tight-fitting tank tops. As most of the girl dancers were small-breasted, it had soon become apparent that Corey fit in as just another of the "girls." With continued practice, Corey was now beginning to hold his own; soon the girls accepted him as just another girl dancer. "I love the dance class," he confessed the previous day to Michael. "I feel at home there." In his mind, he no longer had to find himself in a gym class where his slender arms and soft muscles had made him hopelessly inept at keeping up with the other boys. How humiliated he had always been when the boys had to do pushups and Corey found difficulty in lifting himself off the floor, for even as few as four or five lifts. Corey went to his special changing place, the teacher's office, slipping into the tights, finding himself admiring how firm his legs were becoming. Once dressed, he looked at himself in the mirror at the back of the teachers' door, as he always did. Today, he had tied his hair in a kerchief, as most of the girls did, for the first time. Looking back at him was a lovely girl, and one who may have the prettiest legs in school. "You look lovely; come on now," his reverie was interrupted by his new friend, Carol. He blushed, being caught at this act of mirror-gazing. "I was just checking out how this kerchief looked," he said. Carol wrinkled her freckled nose, giggled a bit and grabbed his arm: "Come on, you're getting prettier everyday." She skipped, almost like a little girl, alongside him as they entered the dance classroom, Corey tagging along, feeling light and gay as a feather, enjoying the company of Carol. As they entered, Corey was surprised to hear loud clapping and cheering by the dozen or so girls of the ballet class. They were cheering for him, and suddenly someone yelled out, "Corey for Prom Queen." Soon others chimed in, "Corey for Prom Queen." Corey blushed, covering his face with his hands, turning a girlish twirl, in acknowledging the applause. They were cheering for him: all of the girls wanted him to be prom queen. Finally, Carol explained: "You see, we all love you, Corey. You've become one of us, one of the girls and you will do us honor if you win prom queen." "Yes," agreed Tanya, easily the most accomplished of girl dancers. "A ballet girl has never before even run for prom queen." "We all love you," said Carol, hugging Corey like a sister. Soon he was engulfed with hugs one-by-one of all the girls. Corey had never before felt so much a part of any group as he did that day, as he considered himself now to be very much a ballerina, a member of the chorus and one of the girls. Tanya then explained the girls had talked it over and they all agreed that for Corey to win he would have to excel in the talent show. "We want to help you put together the best routine for the show," she said. Corey had never felt so happy in his life. He cried, right there in front of all the girls, feeling so much like these lovely slender teen girls in their tutus. As tears flowed down his cheeks, the other girls cheered lustily. "Did you hear the news?" Michael asked the question as he and Corey were sitting together in the cafeteria and had been joined by Carol, his friend from the ballet class. "The school board wants to hold a special session about Corey," he said. "What?" both Corey and Carol said at once. "Yes, they don't think a boy should run for prom queen." "Why should they get involved?" asked Carol. Corey sat silent, his stomach beginning to knot. More attention, and he was frightened where this was all leading. "It's that Scott Mercanter, the loud-mouth on the board," Michael said. "He's thinking of running for Congress and he likes to make noise." "I'm not ready for all this," Corey said finally. His family will be back in the spotlight, again being made the laughingstock, and he will be ridiculed. Carol put her arms around him, and whispered in his ear: "Corey, I think you're stronger than all of them. You're the most courageous boy I know." He looked back at her, feeling her sincerity, and said: "I'm really a girl!" And all three began to laugh. Corey knew he was in the fight, win or lose, to the finish. The School Board met in a multipurpose room of the Arthur Garfield Middle School; it held about 150 persons, all washed in fluorescent lighting that seemed to wash everything in a depressing sameness. This evening it was packed; the media was there in droves, their cameras and lights set up along the righthand side of the room. A six-inch platform had been set up and the seven board members sat facing the audience before two eight- foot tables draped with a white cloth. In front of the board platform was a standing microphone, obviously for those wishing to testify. A roped off area was saved for reserved seating, for which passes had been distributed to the School principal and vice principal, the teacher who was assigned to oversee the School's prom activities, as well as for Corey, his mother and one other person as chosen by Corey. He chose, Kristen McDowd, a female attorney who was a member of the local chapter of the American Civil Liberties Union and who volunteered her own time to work pro se after hearing of Corey's story. The hearing was held at 7 p.m. on the following Wednesday; the speedy hearing was needed since the election for prom queen itself was only two weeks after that. The prom queen election procedure called for an after- school presentation on a Wednesday night in which the prom queen candidates would appear before the assembled students; they were given up to five minutes to prepare a speech, sing a song, perform a skit and do anything they might think would help them win. Polling would be done before school, during lunch breaks and for one hour after school on the following days, with makeshift polling booths set up in the cafeteria. The announcement of the winner would be made at an all school pep rally and assembly at the last hour of the next day, a Friday. The prom itself would be held eight days later, on a Saturday night at the high school gym. "This hearing will now begin," announced the School Board President George Kendrick, a quiet-speaking man who ran a small business in the city. His voice, however, would be loud and clear tonight, as he rapped his gavel loudly, ordering the crowd to quiet down. There was considerable shuffling in the back of the room as the standing room only crowd tried to squeeze together for better looks. Corey was dressed as a boy, wearing light grey slacks, a white shirt and tie and a blue blazer. His long hair had been neatly combed, and he looked merely like any other slender, smooth-faced teenaged boy. Corey held his thin white hands in his lap and wondered to himself: were these the hands of a girl? He liked the idea! It helped to calm his frightening thoughts. The Board President had met Corey, his mother and Attorney McDowd before and led them into the room through the back, sparing them the need to go through the crowd. He was a gracious man and greeted them warmly, telling Corey: "We're going to be fair about this." Nonetheless, as Corey entered the room, there was a rustle of comments, some of which Corey heard: "Is that her... I mean... him?" "Oh, how disgusting!" "A boy should be a boy." "He's pretty, isn't he?" "God will punish him." As his mother and attorney both counseled, Corey walked in with his head held straight and proud. He walked slowly and without affectation. Strangely, there suddenly appeared applause, loud cheering and shouts of "Go Corey, Go Girl!" He could tell the girls of the ballet class started these cheers; they were all coming, he was told. Then others joined cheers, interspersed with some boos. The turmoil only ended when the President called for order. Mr. Kendrick finally got quiet and opened the session: "This is a special public hearing of the School Board called at the request of Director Mercanter with the support of two other directors which require me to call this meeting. The sole purpose of this meeting will be to discuss and hear from the school administration and the public the question of whether a boy - a male student - may run for prom queen at the high school. We will rule out of order any discussion outside of that question. "Also I am warning the public here and the media to refrain from any demonstrations or cheering. We will give both the School Administration office and the high school principal and her staff 20 minutes to state the situation. We will give the student or his representative 20 minutes to present their position. After that we will hear from persons who have signed up to speak, based on the cards you all signed upon entering the room. Each of you will be restricted to three minutes, plus time to answer any followup questions from the Board." Corey's attorney leaned toward him, patting his hand lightly: "Are you OK with this? We can call a halt to it now, if you wish." "No, let's go ahead. I'm ready," Corey said, perhaps with more conviction than he felt. School Board Director Mercanter was given an opportunity to tell why he submitted the petition, urging the special meeting and he left no doubt his feelings of disgust for a boy who chose to act like a girl. "It's just not right. It sends the wrong message to our children. Boys are to be boys and girls to be girls. There is no other choice. For our school to support this is abominable." He was becoming red-faced as he orated, claiming that to permit this to happen would be to put the school board on record in supporting gay marriage. "That's not the American way," he said. Looking directly at Corey as he spoke, he said: "I see a handsome young man before, not a girl. He should work at being a man, not a girl. He should go to gym class like a boy, and not to ballet class, like a girl." The President rapped his gavel at that point, interrupting Mercanter, "I think Director Mercanter that we should not get into personalities here. Please don't direct your remarks to the student." Mercanter, a large, pudgy man, said: "I'm just wishing he could be a boy, not a girl. Let him be a sissy if he wants to, but not in a public way like running for prom queen. However, I am done." Corey knew he shouldn't be concerned over this man's intemperate and uninformed remarks, but he still felt ashamed. "Why couldn't I have been strong and more of a boy?" he muttered to himself. Superintendent of Schools Michael Billings is a tall, husky grey-haired man who once was a star athlete at the State University, playing tight end for the football team. He was known to be cautious and rarely one to take bold steps, as he did on the gridiron. Some called him wishy-washy, but he had been able to win support of the board, whose members liked how he rarely defied them. He explained to the Board the situation, noting that while the prom queen contest is a school activity, it is run under the Student Council, with a faculty advisor. Usually, he said, the school administration let's the groups run freely, as long as they don't violate school policy. The Student Council's rules for eligibility, he said, same nothing about gender; they only require that potential queens be nominated by a boy who promises to take them to the prom, that the student nominee be in good standing and have at least a 2.75 grade point average. "The student in question," Billings said, "Meets all of these criteria. To deny him eligibility now would be to deny his civil rights and possibly open us to a lawsuit on sex discrimination. "If the School Board votes to do that, then we will. I warn you, however, that you may face a suit." Corey looked puzzled. He hadn't thought about suing. "We'd win that suit, easily," boomed Mercanter, interrupting. "Look at the word, 'queen.' It refers to a female, not a boy." Corey was reddening as he listened. Never had he wanted to cause all this fuss. All he knew was that he felt so good being a girl and that he wanted people to share in that lovely feeling. "I don't wanna law suit," he whispered to Kristen, his attorney. She grabbed his hand, held it gently and whispered back. "Don't worry, there'll be no law suit," she said. Marian McQuitty, another school director, a well-coiffed severe looking woman who could have been pretty with less makeup, was next to speak: "I'm inclined to agree with Director Mercanter. A queen means a girl in my mind. I think this whole thing has been abominable, a waste of time. Let's vote 'no,' and go home." About a third of the audience cheered her, but boos came from many others. Board President Kendrick gaveled hard to quiet the crowd, and announced. "I think Director Mercanter has a point, but it's only fair that we hear from others who wish to comment." He said each person would have to limit remarks to three minutes, and that he call upon those who supported Corey and those who opposed his running for queen alternately. To Corey, the testimony became a haze. He found himself day-dreaming, wishing he had come dressed as a girl to show how pretty he was, and how marvelously feminine. Those who opposed him quoted the Bible, called his quest an insult to womanhood, and a reflection upon the dying culture of manhood in the nation. He awoke from his day-dreaming, when he heard Tanya Michaels, the lead dancer in the ballet class, addressing the board, and saw the entire class standing behind her, each and every girl. "We're here to ask that you permit Corey to run as prom queen," she began. "You see behind me the entire ballet class, except for Corey of course. "We think Corey has worked hard to be one of us, a ballerina. When he first came to our class, he was awkward and his legs weren't very strong. He was the first boy we ever had in the class, and that took courage. "But Corey worked hard, and now is a ballerina in our dance company. She, and I use the word purposely, is one of us, and she is lovely in a tutu. We would be proud to have a member of our ballet group become prom queen. And, all of us have pledged to vote for Corey for prom queen." Cheers came up from the audience, and Corey looked over, smiling and blushing at the same time. Carol and Tanya both rushed over after their presentation, giving him a sisterly hug, a giddy, girly hug, and Corey felt so connected to the two girls. Never had he that he belonged than he did at that moment as he realized he was one of the ballerinas. His mood was stifled immediately when the President of the School's Women's Committee, Christine Templeton, spoke. She was a slender, harsh- looking girl, dark, short-cropped hair, and also a junior, with an authoritarian manner. "This is disgusting," she said. Corey leaned to his attorney and whispered, "I thought she was a friend. She's for women's rights, and I supported her in a debate in civics." "Well, Corey," the attorney replied. "You're challenging her definition of women. Let's listen." Corey returned his attention to Christine's testimony, unconsciously brushing his longish hair and then folding his hands in a dainty, feminine manner. "But it's more than disgusting," Christine said. "It's dead wrong, dead illegal. It's a perversion of the word 'woman' or 'girl.'" "As an educational institution, a school should demand truth and accuracy. First, the word 'queen' refers to a 'female leader;' not a male. There are 'drag queens,' of course, men who dress as girls in an outlandish sexy way. To accept a drag queen as prom queen here would be immoral and set a bad example. What not elect a prostitute then? "Corey is neither. He's a very smart boy. Maybe he's what we call a 'sissy,' but he's not a girl and he shouldn't shame the other girls of this school by making a mockery of our once-a-year event that heralds the best part of girlhood. Please do not let him to run for prom queen. He's a boy... not a girl, regardless how he dresses." There was instant applause as Christine's testimony ended, and Corey was about to hide his head in despair when a sudden, spontaneous chorus of "NO" rose up, equaling in volume the cheers. It sounded as if the loudest No's came from the girls in his ballet class. The chairman wrapped for order, and ordered, "No more outbursts. We'll settle this on its merits and the law, not on measuring your cheers." "Now are there any others who wish to testify on behalf of the right of Corey to compete for the role of prom queen?" "I do," came a booming male voice. It was Mr. Mathias, Corey's gym teacher, and the appearance of this muscular, athletic man caused a stir in the crowd. "What's Mathias doing supporting this sissy?" someone said, loud enough for Corey to hear. Mathias approached the small podium set up in front of the Board, stood with a quiet dignity, and Corey imagined this onetime man who taunted him for his weakness now being John Wayne, using his strength and power to save a helpless young lady from bandits in the Old West. Corey silently giggled to himself, putting himself in the role of the helpless girl. "I have been a physical education teacher here for 18 years. I have spent those years hoping to build boys into strong and fit men who can enter the world of work as healthy human beings. You all know how I have wanted the kids to excel at sports like football and track. "And, as some of you also know, I have despaired of seeing a weak boy, a boy who can't or won't do things a boy or a man should do. Some of you, I know, have accused me of being too tough. "I think I've always been tough with the best of motives and that is to help a boy develop into a man. When Corey came into my sophomore class this last fall, I felt I had a special case on my hands. This boy was indeed unable to do so many of the exercises boys should be able to do. Frankly, he just wasn't strong enough. And, I did the worst possible thing, I called him a 'girl' when he failed to complete a rope climb. "And that made him the butt of the bullies in the class. He was assaulted with words and taunts, and I even had to break up a physical assault against him. "All through this ordeal, Corey did not complain, did not whine, but I could see he was totally hurt boy. Now the truth is, Corey had spent most of his young teen years caring for his two younger sisters, and assisting his mother. He had little time to play and build up those arms and shoulders. "The truth also is that Corey always tried to do his best. And, seeing the problems the boy was facing, I gave him three alternatives: I'd excuse him from gym; he could go into the girls' classes, or he could try out for ballet. "To his credit, he took the tougher road, and joined the ballet class. That took courage, and you've already heard how well the girls in that class have accepted him as one of theirs. I want to say one thing about ballet: to train for ballet is tougher than training for football or basketball. Corey, I've been told, has been able to already go 'on point,' and that's always difficult for a male. "As a physical education teacher, I recognize that I am first and foremost an 'educator,' and that means helping young people develop into fine adults. One of the things all children need is a sense of pride, a sense of accomplishment. I don't care whether it's on the football field, in the classroom, on the stage or in a ballet outfit: a student needs something to be proud for. "Let Corey compete for prom queen. He's earned it, and I think he'd be a very beautiful prom queen. Thank you." There were loud cheers, and this time no one booed. Mr. Mathias was too well-respected among the macho types. Mr. Mathias nodded at Corey as he went back to his seat, and Corey caught he saw a slight wink. The next person who testified was from a local evangelical church, and he quoted some verse from the Bible, indicating that the Lord does not want boys being girls. It seemed few listened, as they were still buzzing over Mr. Mathias's words. One of the Board Members, Hazel Whitely, interrupted. "Mr. President and members of the board and audience. Our rules say that the prom queen nominees must be named by the captain of one of our sports teams. It's my understanding that Mark has renounced his invitation. Doesn't that make this all moot?" Superintendent Billings agreed that was the case, and that Corey would be denied his nomination based on that. "How about that, Ms. McDowd?" the President inquired of Corey's attorney. She rose to answer that Maurice Twyman, the basketball captain, was poised to nominate Corey. He had been persuaded to do so by his girl friend, Claire, one of the ballet students, and that would have been an even more interesting twist since Maurice was African-American. But before she could, someone in the back yelled. "Mark wants to make a statement." Mark arose and stood frozen in his spot in the back of the hall. "Come on forward, young man," ordered the President. Mark's words were simple. "It was wrong what I said on TV. I did invite Corey to be my queen and I still want to nominate her." A gasp went up in the audience and then cheers. "Are you sure?" asked the President. "Yes, I... was... ah... worried about what everyone would think. I'm so sorry I said that on TV. If Corey's still willing, I want her for my queen." Corey blushed with the use of the pronoun, "her." He felt like crying and some tears dropped down his cheeks. His attorney hugged him, and Mark stopped by on his way from the podium, touching Corey lightly on his arm, and whispered, "You'll make a very pretty queen. I'll be proud to have you on my arm on the grand march." Corey grabbed his friend's hand, holding it, feeling so happy. Mark held on to Corey's hands, almost in a caressing manner, and mouthed the words: "I love you!" Corey held onto Mark's hand, and tears began to flow from his eyes. As Mark broke away to return to his seat, Corey felt so warm and loved. It was real. Mark wanted him as his date, as his girl friend. There were a few more testifiers, but they didn't count anymore. The Board had heard enough and voted 5 to 2 to permit Corey to run as prom queen. It was obvious that Corey had become a celebrity about town; the vote had come in time for "live" interviews on the 10 p.m. television news shows. Thanks to Mr. Johnston, the school janitor, Corey and his attorney, had been able to duck out through a rear service door to avoid the news vultures. "There's no doubt the cameras will be waiting for you at your home," Kristen McDowd, his attorney, said as they left. To keep from be harassed, the attorney had arranged with Corey's mother to put him up at her apartment, and get him to school on time the next day. "You know, Corey," Kristen said to him as they drove to her place, "I'm very proud of you. You have shown great courage." "I suppose," he responded. "It's all happened so fast. I didn't do much. Guess I went with the flow." "No, Corey, many others would have run for cover. I don't know any other boy - or girl - who would have lived through this taunting and teasing and attention." Corey just smiled, glad the day was over and happy he was safe from any more challenges for one night. Later that night, as Kristen poured a glass of milk and set a tray of home-made chocolate chip cookies in front of him, Corey thanked her for her concern and kindness, and then said quietly, but said so quickly so as to get the words out before he lost his nerve and would never again say them: "Why can't I be a real girl? Can you help me?" There it was. The truth must have been there all the time, resting in his heart and mind, taking over his enter self. Corey wanted to be a girl; no, it was more than that, he said to himself: "I am a girl." Kristen said that Corey ought to investigate such transition issues later, that he had to finish the school year and prepare to run for prom queen. She promised to look up information for Corey, but then added, "Corey, I think it's too soon for you to think about that. The change into a girl is very costly and painful, and will make it difficult for you to be accepted in society and the business world." "Oh but I only feel comfortable as a girl," Corey answered. "Take your time on this. Besides, you're very smart person, and you need to complete your education. Once you get a career, you can decide better." "But I like being a girl." "Maybe so, but you are also a very handsome young man." He noticed that Kristen was about the same height and weight as he was, and as she showed him to her spare bedroom, he asked about whether she had any night clothes for him. She said his mother had sent along his pajamas, and he scowled. "What's wrong?" Corey hesitated, and then blurted out, "Could I wear one of your nighties?" "I anticipated that you'd ask. Look on the bed." There, laid out neatly was a pink chiffon nightie, very sheer. Corey felt the silkiness against his smooth skin and curled into bed, cuddling up, hugging himself and enjoying his soft body and sweet thoughts. "I am a girl," he repeated to himself softly. He laid awake a long time, thinking about Mark, and his words: "I love you." Could Mark really mean that, Corey wondered? They had been friends most of their young lives, but as boys growing up together. Did Mark now see him as a girl? He must, Corey figured, since Mark certainly wasn't gay. Or was he? Then he thought back on those times when the two boys played "house," with Mark as the "daddy," and Corey as the "mommy." Were the seeds of love sowed then? (To Be Continued)