George

by Alex Gino

  In the far corner of the yard was an old oak tree, and tied to one of the lowest branches of the tree was an old-fashioned swing. George’s dad had hung it after he and Mom separated, but before he left town. A plank of wood hung from two thick lengths of rope, with a stretch of bare dirt below, where years of feet had worn away the grass. The seat had once been bright red, but what was now left of the paint was dull and chipped, revealing the gray wood beneath. Once, Scott and George had fought for turns on the swing. Sometimes they even swung on it together. Scott hadn’t used the swing in a long time, though, and even George hadn’t been on it since last year.

  George brushed the seat with the elbow of her jacket and sat down. She took small steps backward until she stood on tiptoe, the seat pressed against her behind. Then she lifted her toes, leaned back in the seat, and glided into the morning air. She coasted for a bit and then began to pump her legs, rising higher and higher. Soon, she was able to see into the neighbor’s yard with each lift into the sky.

  The light in the east was still orange from the sunrise. The sun itself had lifted into the sky, and its rays were warm on George’s face each time she emerged from the shade of the old oak tree. She swung for a long time, enjoying the rhythm and the breeze.

  She wondered what kind of skirt she would wear, and whether she and Kelly would match. And she wondered what Kelly’s uncle Bill would be like. If he was as clueless as Scott, he would never notice that George wasn’t a regular girl. If he did notice, George wasn’t sure whether he would be nice. Kelly said he was nice, but Kelly had been wrong before. He might laugh at George. He might even leave her at the zoo. Still, there was no way she was going to pass up this chance to be a girl with Kelly.

  When George came inside, Mom was at the stove with a spatula, tending to a frying pan. She wore an apron that said MIND THE CHEF in large letters. The air smelled sweet, and George’s stomach growled.

  “You want pancakes?” Mom asked.

  “Yes, please. With cinnamon.”

  George toyed with telling Mom about the plan, but she remembered Mom’s words: one step at a time. She would tell Mom about her adventure when Mom was ready. Instead, they talked about the animals George would see, as if it were any other trip to the zoo.

  After breakfast, George pulled out her bike and put on her helmet. She rode past the library and up the hill to the corner store where Mom sometimes sent her to pick up milk or a loaf of bread. She rode past the big purple house with a cactus garden for a front yard, and past the building where her old babysitter used to live. She rode alongside the cemetery twice—up the slow and steady incline, around the back, and swoosh, down the trail on the far side, with its three bumps down.

  When she couldn’t bear waiting any longer, she headed toward Kelly’s house. George pedaled as slowly as she could manage to stay upright, riding up and down side streets, but she still arrived fifteen minutes early. She waited around outside until she thought her head would pop.

  When she finally knocked, the door opened instantly. Kelly pulled George into the main room of the basement apartment. She wore green pajamas and her hair was tied back in a puff of curls. “Finally, you’re here! We can get dressed!”

  “What if your dad wakes up and sees us?” whispered George, looking over at Kelly’s father asleep on the daybed.

  “Are you kidding me? He had a gig at the Masons’ Lodge last night. He won’t move until noon.” Kelly gestured her thumb at her snoring father. “If he does see anything, he’ll think it’s a dream.”

  Kelly led George into her room and shut the door behind her. The closet and most of her dresser drawers were open, displaying an array of girls’ clothing, and Kelly had laid out an assortment of makeup on her desk. The air smelled of perfume, several bottles of which were lined in a neat row next to the makeup.

  “Welcome to Kelly’s Salon. Whaddaya think?”

  George’s heart thumped in her chest. It was as if all of the pages of all of her magazines had come to life in Kelly’s bedroom.

  “It’s … wonderful.”

  “What do you want to try on first?”

  “What can I try on?”

  “Anything you want!”

  George looked over the skirts that hung in Kelly’s closet. She had no idea how to choose. “What do you think would look good on me?”

  “I have the perfect thing.” Kelly sounded like a clerk at a high-end clothing boutique. She dashed to the closet and pulled out a flared skirt of purple swirls and rummaged through a drawer for a hot-pink tank top. She laid the clothing in George’s hands. The top was soft, softer than any boys’ shirt she had ever worn. And she had never held a skirt in her hands like this before. Together, they felt magical.

  “I didn’t even know you had any skirts,” said George.

  “I don’t wear them to school. Boys are dirty and try to look up them.”

  “I’d never try to look up your skirt.”

  “Of course not. You’re not a boy.”

  “Oh, right.” George laughed. Even she was sometimes fooled by her body. Kelly laughed too, and no one passing by the basement apartment window would have ever suspected that there weren’t two girls in the room below, bonding over clothes, boys, and whatever else it was girls gossiped about.

  “So,” Kelly said, “don’t you want to try them on?”

  George nodded slowly. “Could you turn around?”

  “Of course!” Kelly turned back to the closet and held shirts and skirts against each other, looking for the perfect match.

  George eyed the tank top Kelly had given her. It looked a bit like an undershirt, but with thinner shoulder straps. She took off her T-shirt and slipped the girls’ top over her head. The air felt cool on her exposed shoulders. Next, she took off her sweatpants and stepped into the skirt. She pulled it up to her waist and let the fabric settle into place.

  She looked in the mirror and gasped. Melissa gasped back at her. For a long time, she stood there, just blinking. George smiled, and Melissa smiled too.

  When her eyes started to sting, she twirled in a circle, and the skirt ballooned out below. Stopping with her legs crossed, she felt like a model.

  Kelly squealed when she turned around. “Oh, that looks so cute on you … Melissa.”

  Melissa’s heart fluttered, hearing her name.

  “Can I take a picture?” Kelly snapped her camera before Melissa could answer.

  “Now try these on.” She handed Melissa a yellow skirt with shimmering fringe at the bottom and a black T-shirt with a yellow heart in the center.

  Melissa fingered the fringe of the skirt. She didn’t want to take off the clothes she was already wearing, but the fringe looked so lovely, and it would brush against her knees as she moved.

  Kelly turned back to the closet, and Melissa changed shirts. She stepped into the yellow skirt and brought it up to her waist. Again, she gazed in the mirror, amazed to find herself there. She could have stared for a long time, but Kelly wanted to know what Melissa thought of her ensemble.

  “Don’t I look elegant? New York City’s really elegant, you know.” Kelly wore a long black skirt, a black top, and black silk gloves.

  Melissa frowned. “You look like you’re going to a zoo funeral.”

  Kelly laughed. “Yeah, you’re right,” she said, pulling the gloves back off by their fingers.

  Melissa tried on half a dozen outfits in a whirlwind. Before she could change out of one, Kelly had another ready, and took half a dozen pictures of Melissa in each. Melissa didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as she modeled the girls’ clothing, with Kelly oohing and aahing all the way. She held the fabrics delicately, as if they would break, and rubbed them softly between her thumb and forefinger.

  For all the different outfits she tried on, though, Melissa couldn’t keep her mind off the first.

  “You said it was perfect,” she said to Kelly. “And you were right!”

  Kelly gave up and Melissa delightedly put the pink tank top and purple
skirt back on. She twirled in the center of the room, giddy on freedom. Kelly settled on a pink T-shirt that said ANGEL in glittery yellow letters, which she paired with the yellow fringed skirt.

  Kelly sat Melissa down in a chair in front of the mirror and began to brush Melissa’s hair. She tried brushing it first to one side, and then the other, but decided finally to brush it forward so that the tips of it fell just above Melissa’s eyebrows.

  “What if your uncle figures out I’m not really a girl?” Melissa asked.

  “Look at you. Why would he think you’re anything else?”

  Kelly was right. Melissa’s frame was thin, and she was too young to be expected to have curves. She was wearing girls’ clothes and a girl’s hairdo, even if it was short. She really did look like a girl.

  Kelly gestured at her desk. “I’ve got all this makeup my aunt gave me for my birthday, but I don’t really know how to put it on.”

  “I’ve never had any,” said Melissa, “but I’ve read all about it.”

  Kelly handed her a small container of lip gloss. Melissa dipped her finger into the slippery, shiny substance and traced her lips. When she looked in the mirror, her lips sparkled.

  Melissa and Kelly tried out every shade of gloss and blush in the kit. Melissa showed Kelly how to apply the blush high on the cheekbone and then blend downward, and how to choose colors to complement her light-brown skin. They amassed a great pile of tissues as they wiped off one color and replaced it with another. They smiled for the mirror and each other. Kelly took photo after photo.

  “Oh, no!” Melissa cried suddenly. Her glee was replaced with dread as she looked down at her sock-covered feet. She pointed over to her ratty sneakers.

  “You think I don’t have that covered?” Kelly pulled a bucket of shoes from under her bed.

  “You have so many shoes. Who knew you were such a girly girl?”

  “Who knew you were?” Kelly grinned. She rummaged through the pile and handed Melissa a simple pair of white sandals. They were a little small on Melissa’s feet, but since they were sandals, it didn’t matter too much. Kelly found a pair of yellow canvas sneakers to match her own skirt.

  They were ready, but Uncle Bill hadn’t arrived yet, so Kelly turned cartwheels across the carpet. Half the time, her skirt would flip right over her belly, leaving her pink underwear showing. She would scamper down and smooth out her skirt, but that didn’t stop her from trying again. Melissa was looking at her reflection from every angle she could. She faced away from the big mirror and held a hand mirror so she could see her back.

  “Kelly?” Melissa stopped her friend while she was upright. “There’s just one more thing.”

  “Melissa, stop worrying. You look perfect.”

  “It’s just … I’m wearing boys’ underpants.” Melissa felt the wide band of elastic around her waist that held up her white boys’ briefs. No one would be able to see them, but she would know all day that they were there.

  “Ew! Yuck! Pull them off!” Kelly was already at her dresser drawer. She handed Melissa a pair of light-pink underwear covered in tiny red hearts. They were small and light. “You can have them. Don’t worry. They’re clean.”

  “Are you sure?” Melissa asked.

  “Of course. I have too many pairs anyway.”

  Melissa turned around and began to take off the purple skirt.

  “You don’t have to take it off. You can change under it. Skirts are awesome like that.”

  “Oh, right.”

  Melissa took off her own underwear, stepped into Kelly’s, and pulled it up under her skirt. Other than the coolness of the fabric on her skin, she could barely tell she was wearing anything at all.

  Kelly jumped up when she heard a knock on the front door. “Let’s go!”

  Kelly let her uncle into the small apartment. Bill Arden could have been his brother’s twin, right down to the friendly twinkle in his deep-brown eyes. He was a painter; bright streaks of blue and red stained his sneakers.

  “Well, you girls are dressed mighty fancy for the zoo,” Uncle Bill remarked.

  “It’s not often a handsome man invites us out to New Yawwk City.” Kelly pronounced the name of the metropolis as though she had been raised deep in the country.

  “At least you’re wearing practical shoes, which is more than I can say for most of the women I take out on the town. Although it’s not often that I’m graced with the company of two fine young women at once. Kelly, who’s your lovely friend?”

  “This is Melissa. She’s a bit shyer than I am.”

  Melissa was afraid to move, nervous that a single step could break the magic.

  “Pleased to meet you, Melissa.” Uncle Bill’s hand was large and his handshake was firm, but not tight. “And as for you, my dear niece,” he continued, hugging Kelly to his side, “I do believe a rampaging rhinoceros would be shyer than you are.”

  “I doubt that,” said Kelly. “But there’s only one way to find out. To the zoo!” Kelly grabbed two of her jackets, handed one to Melissa, and skipped down the cracked pavement to Uncle Bill’s car.

  The ride down to the zoo took nearly two hours, with Uncle Bill singing loudly and off-key to disco songs on the radio. Kelly sang along when she knew the words. Melissa sat beside her in the backseat, admiring the swirls in her skirt. She fingered its hem, just a little heavier than the rest of the fine cloth. She brushed her palms down the tank top she wore, and combed her fingers through her hair. She reached out her hand and Kelly squeezed it in hers.

  If Melissa held her body just right, she could see herself in the car’s rearview mirror. It was hard to keep from giggling with delight. She looked out the window and counted a hundred telephone poles. Twice. Both times, she wished she could be like this forever.

  Finally, Melissa saw a big green sign for the Bronx Zoo with a thick arrow pointing to the right. Uncle Bill drove off the highway, and soon they were paying a fee to enter a massive parking lot. Uncle Bill drove down a long line of cars and pulled into a spot at the end.

  The air smelled mostly like grass and hay, with a hint of animal poop. Melissa knew the smell would grow stronger, but she didn’t care. She would be walking around all day dressed as a girl. Children and adults and even the animals would see her, and no one but she and Kelly would know a thing.

  Around them, adults wrestled with babies and strollers, while older children stood around waiting. Kelly, Melissa, and Uncle Bill walked toward the entrance booth. There was a short line, but it moved quickly, and soon they were inside.

  Melissa and Kelly laughed at the playing monkeys, shuddered past the slithering snakes, cooed at the baby grizzly bears, and stared at the tigers’ teeth. Melissa surprised herself when she noticed her reflection in the glass in front of a display of exotic, glowing jellyfish. She was looking at a girl.

  Melissa stopped at the tarantula exhibit. The furry crawlers were a much larger species of spider than Charlotte had been. Still, Melissa thanked each one quietly. She searched for webs, but didn’t see any.

  When they stepped out of the World of Insects, Kelly said she needed to use the bathroom. Melissa tensed. There was no way she could make it back home without going as well. She looked down at her skirt. She couldn’t go into the boys’ bathroom looking like this.

  “Melissa and I will be right back,” Kelly announced, grabbing her best friend by the hand before she could protest, dragging her right to a door with a sign with the word LADIES and a stick figure wearing a triangle skirt. Kelly pushed open the heavy metal bathroom door as if it were nothing and pulled Melissa in.

  The air was cool, wet, and smelled of musk. The tiles were gray and green, not pink as Melissa had imagined. Most noticeably, there were no urinals, only a row of stalls on the left and a row of sinks, mirrors, and dispensers oozing pink soap on the right.

  “You okay?” asked Kelly.

  Melissa nodded but didn’t say anything. She was standing in the girls’ room. Not even the eloquent Charlotte had a word for ho
w she felt in that moment.

  Melissa locked herself in a stall, delighted for the privacy. She lifted her skirt to see her underwear, covered in tiny red hearts. She pulled it down, sat, and peed, just like a girl. She didn’t even tell Kelly afterward. That part of this magnificent day was her personal secret.

  By early afternoon, Kelly, Melissa, and Bill were tired and hungry. Kelly found a meal station on the map just past Tiger Mountain. They smelled the food before they spotted a cluster of picnic benches set up around a bird-filled pond. Orange umbrellas advertising fruit smoothies shaded dozens of families. Some folks ate burgers and hot dogs and fries, while others munched on sandwiches and snacks pulled out of coolers from home. Strollers littered the walkways, with young children weaving between them and screaming with glee. Uncle Bill took orders for lunch and stood in line while Kelly and Melissa waited for a table.

  “So,” Kelly said, “I call today a success. I’m already thinking about what to wear next time.”

  “You mean you’d do this again?”

  “Melissa.” Kelly rolled her eyes. “I’m surrounded by boys in my life. My father. My uncle. Seriously, until a few weeks ago, I thought you were a boy. It’s nice to have some girl time.”

  “Well, you two look happy!” said Uncle Bill, setting down a tray laden with sodas, hot dogs, a container of ketchup, and a giant cup of fries.

  “We are,” said Kelly.

  A wave of warmth filled Melissa from deep in her belly and out to her fingers and toes. She put her arm around Kelly. Kelly held her camera at arm’s length and took a picture of the two girls’ grinning faces.

  Kelly took dozens more photos of Melissa that afternoon. And Kelly didn’t ask Melissa to pose once. She didn’t have to. Melissa already looked perfect in every one.

  By the time they loaded into the car, Kelly, Uncle Bill, and Melissa were all exhausted, even though the sun was only just setting. Uncle Bill stopped off for coffee to stay awake and Kelly passed out as soon as they hit the highway. But Melissa didn’t nod off for a moment. She couldn’t. She was too busy remembering the best week of her life.