Jane -10- Night (Patreon)

My ears were sore when I woke up. I touched one and found the little jeweled stud there. “Oh,” I said. For a moment I resented having been persuaded to allow the earrings put in. But the only girl my age I knew who didn’t have pierced ears belonged to one of the odder religious groups.

And we did have some odd ones. That might have been the reason Rosa Morena Middle School had such a strict dress code.

I sat up and discovered someone had dressed me in my nightgown. Mom probably. A good thing, I decided. I didn’t want my milkshake dress to get all wrinkled. 

My dress. Sigh.

I checked the closet and there hung all the stuff we had bought, neat and put away. The wig was even on a wig stand on the hidden chest of drawers in the closet and my dolls on the shelves. I guessed Mom had had a wigstand somewhere, a think like a blank-faced mannequin head on a stick.

A lot of my boy clothes were gone, though. I checked. Well, not a lot but almost a third of them. Most of the ones missing didn’t fit well anymore or were worn-out, torn or stained.

I rolled my eyes. I know I’m a sound sleeper but how long was I out? I checked the clock, did some math and realized it wasn’t much more than half an hour since Mom and I had gotten home from our expedition. Maybe Dad had done some of the sorting and culling while we were gone.

Mom would have saved everything for patching or rag-making at the least. Dad might have tossed the whole lot out. I sighed. The only thing I really missed were my brown corduroy pants that made that neat whush-whush sound when I walked. But September was too warm for corduroy and they were already almost too tight at the end of last winter.

I yawned widely but I was awake now. I never have problems waking up in the morning but if I take a nap in the daytime, I need an hour or two at least or I’m going to wake up in a bad mood. I winced, remembering how I’d whined and fussed getting out of the car.

That’s what Daddy had meant when he told me to finish my nap as he carried me inside. I smiled a bit at that memory. I’d fallen asleep before we really got to my room. It was so much like when I’d been small and one of my parents had tucked me in. Getting dressed and undressed while asleep was sort of embarrassing but comforting too

They hadn’t done that in a couple of years for Audie but Audrey qualified for the “baby girl” treatment. I blushed. Daddy had called me that as he carried me. And he’d called me “Princess” when he saw me in my dress. 

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that yet. On the nigh hand I kinda, sorta loved being Daddy’s Princess. I guess like just about any other girl would. If you’re going to be a girl, being a princess is best. On the off hand, three days ago, I thought I was a boy.

I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess from sleeping and wearing the wig and wearing the wig while I was sleeping in the car. I found my brush and comb and got to work. There was a little spray bottle of what I had called girl cooties to dampen my comb with, too, and the other spray bottle of hold. I’d have to shampoo all that stuff out later.

When I had my hair right, I put on the cheap bracelets we had got at Kmart and did my squinchy wink at my reflection. I was wearing the studs with the rose-colored gems because they had matched my dress better. “You are so not a boy,” I told the girl in the mirror, turning a little sideways to see how my bra pushed out my nightgown.

I could hear my brothers laughing at something in the living room, Junior’s deep boom and Moose’s baritone cackle. They were probably snacking in front of the TV unless Mom had decided to make a late dinner.

Thinking of that, I felt guilty. I should be helping her. The guys must have done the evening chores in the barns before we got home while I was out having fun shopping. 

Wait.

Did I have fun shopping for girl clothes? I guess I did. I giggled and headed for the door to join my family, making a short detour to put on a pair of opera slippers. The plum-colored ones. Then another longer detour because once in the hallway, I discovered I needed to go pee.

When I got to the living room, Morgan called out from his usual place on the floor, “There she is. Sleeping Beauty.” He grinned at me and I stuck out my tongue.

Lee Junior on the couch sat up and patted his thigh. “Come sit on my lap, chickadee. We’re watching a movie with Bill Murray. Mom’s making toasty cheese and homemade potato chips.” 

One of my favorite things in the world! Open-faced cheese sandwiches toasted in the broiler with slices of tomato on top and thick potato chips made in the pressure fryer on the side. Oh! Someone needed to make the sour cream and onion dip! I started for the kitchen.

Junior reached a long arm out to snag me as I tried to go past. “I have to help Mom,” I protested.

He pulled me into his lap. “Hut-uh,” he said. “Dad’s helping her and they are having a talk.” (On the TV, Bill Murray and a furry puppet drove a pick-up truck off a cliff.)

“They’re talking about you,” Moose put in. 

Junior kicked him, “Shut up, moron.”

Moose looked offended and brushed imaginary dirt off his sleeve but they were both wearing socks, not shoes. “They are talking about her,” he said. “Probably about how much money you spent today,” he grinned at me evilly.

(Chris Elliot on the TV remarked, “He could survive that,” just before the truck blew up. “Well, maybe not.”)

Junior kicked Moose again but this time Moose grabbed his foot and bit him on the ankle. “Why I oughtta,” said Junior.

Moose went, “Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk,” and rolled out of the way as Junior tried to stomp on his head.

This action almost threw me on the floor. “Guys, guys!” I squealed. “There’s an innocent little girl in the middle of your fighting!”

“You!?” they both said, looking at me, and we all dissolved into giggles and guffaws.

(When we stopped laughing, Bill Murray was playing chicken with a locomotive.) “Haven’t we seen this before?” I asked.

“Well, duh,” said Moose.

“It’s a tape,” said Junior. “It gets funnier every time I see it.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re the moron,” said Moose.

“Don’t start,” I told Junior who made as if to kick Morgan again. So instead, he reached a big paw out toward my head. “And don’t muss my hair!” I warned him.

“Ooo! Kitten shows her claws!” laughed Moose. 

“Kitten,” Junior repeated, grinning. “That’s a good name for you. Prickly but cute.”

I hissed at him which got both of the big guys laughing. I had to turn away not to show my own grin but I got an attack of the giggles when Junior poked me in the ribs then hugged me up to his chest.

“The thing with avoiding getting scratched by your kitten is to hold her tight,” he intoned. Moose grabbed my foot as if to worry it like a dog with a bone.

“You guys! Lemme go!” I whined. “Mom! Daddy! Help!” I pretended to struggle then really did try to get away when Junior rubbed my cheek against his neck stubble. “Ow! Lemme go, you cactus!” At seventeen, he had an impressive amount of beard.

Dad poked his head out of the kitchen, prepared to glare at us but just as he did, my brothers both let go of me. I sat there on Junior’s lap, all three of us looking calmly back at Dad. (On screen, Bill Murray played a romantic interlude on the piano.)

“Just like I thought,” said Dad with a mock scowl. “Guys, your sister is not a chew toy.”

“I told them that yesterday,” I said.

* * *

Instead of onion, Dad had made sour cream garlic dip. It tasted amazing with the meal. I ate three of the cheesy toasts, as many chips as I could snag before they disappeared into the gullets of my brothers, a saucer of Jenny Fordyce’s home-canned bread-and-butter pickles, and I drank a pint of sun-tea, prepared by Moose of all people.

We chattered about our day, talking over one another, my brothers teasing me about being a spoiled princess brat, and me accusing them of animalistic deviance. We made monkey noises at each other until Mom had us stop because she had a stitch in her side from laughing.

Dad had forgotten to call for a prayer so before we started the clean-up, we all joined hands and said, “Thanks be, amen.” 

I dragged my stool over to the sink to do rinse and swipe, Junior packed the dishwasher and Moose ferried in the plates and bowls and wiped down the table.

Mom and Dad relaxed in front of the TV, restarting the tape of “Groundhog Day.”

“We’ve seen this before,” said Dad.

“Duh,” said Mom.

*

Later, no one could stay awake through another viewing of the movie. Moose was sound asleep on the floor, snoring, until Junior grabbed his leg and started towing him toward the back door.

“Gerroff!” complained Moose. Like me, Morgan tended to wake up grumpy if he hadn’t completed a full sleep cycle.

Mom and I shared hugs and happy sniffles before everyone started for bed. 

Taking a quick shower and shampoo, I discovered that my breasts seemed to have reached a new stage. Not just pointy little cones, the base had filled out into plump cookies with the nipples sitting like caramel candies on top. They were incredibly sensitive and I put my bra back on as soon as I was dried off. How big were they going to get, I wondered?

Coffee-and would be in only about seven hours when I crawled into bed finally, a late night for the Jane clan. And tomorrow would be another stressful day since Mom and I would be driving into Rosa Morena to register me for school. Well, I was already registered but to change things so I could attend as a girl.

Outside, a wind blew and somewhere, cattle were complaining about it. The moaning noise could be spooky if you didn’t know what made it. I drifted off to sleep, wondering if the wind meant the weather was about to change.

*

I stood outside in the darkness in a long line of kids that reached all the way up to the moon which hung low and orange in a purple sky. Overhead, gray clouds dropped a heavy rain, the Mexican monsoon that hits our mountains some years, July through September.

But I wasn’t getting wet. 

Ahead of me in line, the rain soaked Pete all the way to the bone nd ahead of him, other kids from our class in Presley tried to shelter under ponchos and rain hoods.

Rhea, Grace, Penny and Marcie played Four-Square on a random piece of blacktop, the shiny red ball splashing in the rain puddles. I wanted to play so I called out, “Ups! I’ve got ups.”

But that’s what the boys say when they play Three Flies. For the girls’ games, it’s “Nextie. I’m nextie.”

Everyone ignored me except Pete who turned around and scowled at me. “Make up your mind,” he said. “No one plays Three Flies in the rain, the ball is too big and red.”

So I went looking for the right kind of ball, except I didn’t want to play Three Flies with the boys. I looked at the softball mitt on my left hand and there the ball was. I took it out and threw it at Pete.

“Pickle,” I shouted but the rain got in my mouth and suddenly I was as wet as anyone, my skirt hanging limp around my knees. Pete threw the ball back, saying, “You can’t play Pickle with only two people. Someone has to be the girl in the middle.”

I missed catching the ball because I had lost my mitt so I guessed I must be the girl in the middle. Except the boys weren’t playing Pickle, they were playing Pepper, throwing the ball back and forth and Around the Horn except no one would throw it to me.

I waved my arms and cried in the rain but everyone ignored me. I was all alone in the rain on the muddy playground. I wandered around for a while, but I wasn’t sure what I was looking for.

I found a First Baseman’s Mitt but I left it lying there. I said, “Every boy knows you don’t play Pepper with the wrong kind of mitt,” and kept looking.

The Four-Square ball bounced past me, one of the big ones the girls used, as big as a basketball. I caught it and started toward the game I could see being played on the blacktop in front of the cafeteria. 

Marcie stood in my way. “You didn’t say Nextie so you can’t play,” she said. She was a big girl, a year older than me, she’d started middle school last year. “Give me the ball,” she demanded. “You’ll never be a real Nextie because you’ve got a dick.”

I threw the ball so it bounced in front of her, splashing her knee socks. “You snot! You did that on purpose,” she accused.

“Youble cablant problove iblit,” I said and the other girls laughed.

*

I woke up smiling because I smelled cinnamon rolls. Mom hadn’t prepared them the night before so they must be the kind that came in a paper tube but those were good, too.

My mouth already watering, I got up and put on my slippers then went down the hall to the bathroom before heading to the kitchen. “You didn’t wait for me to come help,” I said to Mom.

She snorted. “This is too easy, I didn’t need the help. You can pour coffee for the guys.”

I climbed up on my stool, taking down three thermal cups from the cabinet and prepared to pour coffee.

“Are we going to glaze them?” I asked. We didn’t always with the homemade rolls but the ones in the tube came with a squeeze packet of glaze it would be a shame to waste.

“I like them without, that store glaze is too sticky,” she said. “But do you want to hear Morgan whine?”

I giggled. “Moose does love his sweets,” I agreed. 

She pulled the pan from the oven, turned the rolls out on a cutting board then did a shuffle so they were topside up. and put it in front of me with the packet of glaze warmed from lying on the back of the stove. I got the scissors out to snip off the corner of the packet. Glazing pastry and decorating cakes was one of my favorite kitchen chores.

“Leave one without glaze for me, honey,” Mom said.

“Okay,” I agreed, giggling. “More sweet stuff for the rest of us.” When Moose came down, I handed him the two ooiest, gooiest, rolls in the pan. He had to lick some off before he could bite into them and he still got some on his nose.

* * *

After a full breakfast and cleanup, it was still barely seven. Mom pulled me aside and said, “We’ll have to go get you registered at school. I figure the office people will be ready for us by ten so you’ve got time to play a bit. If you’re ready to go by nine, we’ll have plenty of time.”

“Okay, Mom,” I said. I kind of dreaded going in to school to register as a girl but it did seem like something that had to be done.

She reminded me of something. “When you get ready, don’t do your hair. You can wear the wig to the school office.”

“It’ll be hot,” I pointed out.

“You think long hair isn’t hot? You’ll get used to it.”

“What can I do in just an hour, though?” I asked as I headed toward my room, still in my nightgown, and thinking that maybe I could wear some of my boy clothes and run around outside for a while.

“You haven’t opened that one package I gave you yet, have you?” Mom asked, following me to my door.

“Uh, no?” I admitted. I’d seen it on the floor of my closet and went immediately to retrieve it. “What is it?” I asked, sitting with it in my lap and giving it a little shake.

Mom rolled her eyes. “Open it and find out.”

The wrapping paper had green and blue and yellow lollipops on a pink background, they must have wrapped it for her at Nordstrom’s. I started undoing the tape at one end.

Mom made a puffing noise. “You and your father, Audrey. Neither of you know how to unwrap a present.”

“But the paper is pretty,” I said. “We might want to save it.” I had one end undone and pulled the rest down like a sleeve. “It’s a baby doll,” I said, not sure if I were really pleased or not.

“Look close,” Mom said. 

The doll had bright yellow curls and blue-violet eyes, just like my own. She had a name embroidered in blue on her pink jumper, too. It said, Baby Audrey.

She was awfully cute but I still wasn’t sure whether I should be pleased.