Sam and Del - 6 My Sister Is So Weird (Patreon)

"I'm a boy!" I protested. "I like being a boy."

Dad shook his head. "Not from the evidence we see. We think it would be worth finding out if you'd rather be a girl."

"That makes no sense."

Mom jumped in. "Dear, I took you to a hair salon, and you behaved exactly like your sister did at that age. It was all about being pretty with you."

"Snerk," said Hannah. Not the sound, she actually said, 'Snerk.'

I glared at her. "Yeah, well," I said. "I like having my hair look nice." That sounded weak. "And there was a guy there getting his nails done."

"Mr. Lancaster has diabetes. Pampering his hands and feet are good for his health," Mom said.

"Really?" I said. "How?"

"Improves the circulation and keeps the nerves stimulated," said Dad.

"I read about that," said Hannah. "Especially older diabetics who might have numbness in their limbs."

"Huh," I said. We were in danger of going off on a tangent. I'm the nerdiest nerd in the family but not the only one.

Dad headed us off at the pass. "What we were thinking, was that for the next two weeks, you dress as a girl, and try to act like a girl--well, more than you do--"

That hurt. Did I act like a girl?

"--and we'll support you in doing that. Buy some clothes for you--"

"Augh!" I interrupted. "You guys are crazy!"

Mom put in. "We think this will be best for you, honey. We really think you might be happier if you were a girl."

"And all you would have to do to prove us wrong about that would be to get a haircut. Which we are pretty confident you aren't going to do." Dad looked at me, meaningfully. "You're as stubborn as any of the women in the family, and there's that, too."

"Hey!" said Mom and Hannah at the same time.

Dad and I laughed at them, but, really, the joke was on me.

"Hmph," said Mom. "But here's our plan. For two weeks, you give it a try. Be as much of a girly-girl as you can, we'll call you Samantha, or Sam for short," she made dimples at this joke, "and as long as you're giving it a real chance, we'll ease up on the grounding rules."

I blinked. "So... I am grounded?"

Dad nodded. "You'd better believe it. Samson is grounded, no internet, no video games, no leaving the house without your mother or me, no watching movies in your room, no friends coming over."

Yikes! I'd never been grounded that hard before. "It's not fair! I didn't do anything." My guilt over breaking Leon's head was forgotten for the moment.

"Honey, you almost killed someone. And we still don't know how bad Leon is hurt," Mom said gently.

I felt ready to cry again. I really did feel bad about hurting Leon, even if he was a fat, shit-headed, bully. "He started it—he was trying to hurt me." 

"And you defended yourself, as you had a right to do. But not to the point of putting him in danger of getting killed."

"I didn't mean to," I said in a small voice.

"We know," said Dad. "It wasn't vicious, but it was too much. You need to think about things."

Mom leaned over and hugged me. "It's okay," she said. "But Leon would not have been tormenting you if you were a girl."

"Huh?" I said. "If I were a girl, I wouldn't have been in the boys' locker room." Hannah handed me a tissue, and I wiped my eyes.

"Exactly," Mom said. "Hannah never has problems with bullies."

"Yeah, well, she's dating the Gronk, and no one wants to be Gronkalized."

"Only because they haven't tried it," said Hannah, which earned her a glare from all of us. She grinned, unembarrassed.

"Even before she was dating," Mom said. Then to Hannah, "Honey, did you ever have trouble with a bully?"

"Well, only one girl--Emma Tork? I called her a stork once, and she nailed me one, right in the ear." She put a hand over the injured member. "But we got to be friends after."

"But no boy bullies?"

"Uh," Hannah looked thoughtful. "Well--you mean like them calling me names or pulling my hair? That just means they like you."

"What!?" I yelped. "Are you saying that Leon and that Del creep call me names and pull my ponytail because they like me!?"

"Pretty much," Hannah agreed. "Boys are dumb. They don't know how to get your attention. And I think you confuse them."

I hadn't realized I was standing up, so I sat down again.

Hannah rubbed it in. "I mean, you're really pretty, Sam. With your hair, and you've got a cute smile. In fact, you look almost exactly like I did four years ago."

"You're only three years older than me."

"Two and a half. But you're a late bloomer."

Mom and Dad had watched our back and forth with grins. It was at that point that I realized that I was going to get talked into this because they would keep throwing it up to me that I didn't have to go along with their plan if I would just get a haircut. I sighed.

"I don't understand," I said to Dad. "I'm your only son. Don't you want me to grow up to be manly, and--and--"

He didn't let me find the words. "That ship sailed when you were four and threw a fit in Target because your sister got bows tied in her hair, and you didn't."

I blushed. Yeah, well...

Mom remembered the incident better than I did. "I said you can't have a bow because you're a boy, and you said, make it a blue bow, then." Mom and Hannah laughed, and Dad rolled his eyes.

I know I turned bright pink, as pink as the bows Hannah had worn that day. "Yeah, well," I muttered, aloud this time.

"C'mon," said Hannah. "It'll be fun. And you get to start with a wardrobe right away, 'cause you're so skinny, you can probably wear anything that doesn't fit me anymore." She was famous for not throwing anything away.

I made an awful face and surrendered. "I won't have to wear dresses, will I?" I whined.