The Blue Dress - Part Four

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Cindy insisted I take her hand as we left the main hall for the garden. 'Girls hold hands all the time, Alice. It's not a marriage proposal. Although looking that good, you could have me thinking twice! And I will remind you that you have already held a boy's hand, this should be nothing!' She was clearly having a lot of fun with my predicament but the fact that she was so upbeat about it combined with our muttered planning inside had a knock-on effect as I started to enjoy myself a little more as well. I took her hand and admitted 'somehow, this feels weirder. We've been friends for a couple of years now and I've never thought about doing this with you.'

'Well relax, girl,' she cooed. 'As I've said, it's not a proposal and we both know we like guys anyways.' She stuck her tongue out at me as I laughed off her little joke and commended her for it. After an age in the dim corridor, waiting to enter the hotel garden behind the queue of young ladies ahead of us, we could finally see it coming into view.

The hotel clearly planned this layout - there were rows of hedges fencing us in as if the tall, black iron fenceposts weren't enough to enclose our privacy. At the back of the garden up a wide set of steps similar to those at the entrance was a square of greyish cobblestone, much like that of a village, with an elegant, white fountain in the centre - standing proudly and displaying its full glory. It was flanked by mighty trees in the far corners and it certainly grabbed the attention on most nights but not this one, as in the exact centre of the garden was a vibrant flower arrangement which forced the magnificent fountain into the background. In red and white flowers (our school colours), the phrase '2017 GHS Prom' was carefully spelled. 

Cindy was in awe of the craftsmanship and handiwork of the arrangement and I have to admit, it was quite astonishing to see. Either side of the magnificent display were the other teachers who were not given the job of gatekeeping young people's gender for the night. They applauded as the girls made their way out of the corridor but I could see a few confused faces as Cindy and I emerged towards the end of the long line of lasses. The female teachers standing to the right of the flowers guided us all to make our way down to join them so they could take our photo.

Clearly by this point, the teachers had been briefed about Alice and one of my favourite teachers gave me a warm welcome to the right side. Then again, I couldn't picture my French teacher being anything other than kind to anyone. She was native to France and her accent was easily noticeable but she spoke English as if it was her mother-tongue. She welcomed me quite literally with open arms and genuinely complimented my look, a feeling I was beginning to like. 'Oh Alice, you look amazing. We are all so proud of you for being yourself, even if some don't quite know how to deal with it.' She glanced over at the rest of girls, her idea of 'some' was an innocent one. 

About 80-85% of the ladies at prom were giving me abuse not even half an hour ago, I will remind you. But rather than point that out and put a dampener on the evening and being a grass in the process, I instead gracefully accepted the kind words and other female teachers followed suit. For these five minutes, I was in heaven. I was proud of my look and none of the compliments felt hollow. While pride was at the forefront of my mind, there were still some elements of fear. My main fear exactly? Cindy was totally right. I AM transgender. 

I was enjoying this way too much for it to be a punishment and I was being too careful not to ruin my look for it to appear anything other than serious. Was I the most convincing? Absolutely not. But did it matter? To most, absolutely, but I had been blocking out what those girls thought about me for years. I chose to hang on to the few crumbs of comfort that I received in the form of praise from my two closest friends - one being my date- and the teachers I actually liked.

The teachers lined up all of the ladies in formation while we could see the boys doing the same on the opposite side, a few of my date's friends still pointing towards me and laughing with him. And you know, if I wasn't starting to feel like a girl in this getup, I would have laughed too. But I was on the cloud nine of feminine pleasure in my cute little dress and holding Cindy's hand that I hoped they weren't laughing at me. Most of all, I prayed that he wasn't making jokes as well. True, he didn't know that I wanted this yet but I didn't want my date taking the piss. I didn't know what I wanted but it surely wasn't that.

Cindy and I were placed towards the left-hand side of the photo line-up. She stood behind me at a 45 degree angle, still holding my hand - hers was a lot colder and smoother than my date's but the height difference meant that my hand was held up by hers, showing off my blue fingernails. We were to pose for a serious, smiley one and then a 'do whatever you want' silly one. The smiley one was a 4/10 on my part but I have always hated smiling, especially showing off my teeth. 

In the silly one, Cindy used my elevated hand to spin me in such a way that I was in her arms like a baby. I couldn't help but laugh at her quick thinking, after of course the second or two of sheer panic as gravity seemed to give up on me. Cindy's hand was under my skirt as a result of the breeze and her cold skin on mine caused me to shiver and let out another girly scream. All of the teachers enjoyed that one too, but I kindly asked Cindy to put me down once the photos were over. She groaned and reluctantly granted my wish. 'Shame, I was enjoying that. You're so small and cute. I could tell you were enjoying it too, your face was glowing.' It was true, a girl had never so much as hugged me before that. 

The teachers then brought the two groups all together in the centre, behind the flower display for a full year group photo. My smile was possibly better that time and in the other less serious photo, I held up a peace sign while Cindy did the same but her hand the other way around which means something very different. Somehow, that was allowed and we were dismissed row by row back into the hall with the warning that the meal was ready. We returned to the hall and sat in our places as the gossip around us grew into a roar of rumours - most of which I assumed were about me in my paranoid state.


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