Chapter 8

If a passerby was to notice the three friends waiting at the bus stop together they’d have no clue they were the same as the three hooligans who’d sat in the exact same spot only a day prior. Emmanuel was the first to arrive, but when you compared his morning to the other two, it was no wonder. Not that he wasn’t better dressed than his usual ratty attire, but the amount of effort involved paled in comparison to the two gorgeous cohorts sharing the bench.

Song’s plan to sneak out of this house in his boy clothes had obviously failed, demonstrated by the exceedingly feminine, flowy, red polkadot dress, belted at the waist by an adorable matching hand tied bow. His mother made sure the outfit was perfectly put together, accessorized with a few pieces of jewelry from the day before, just adding a pair of white mary-jane heels, and a matching handbag, only able to be carried in the extremely feminine way of those ladies who lived in the mid nineteen-hundreds. One final detail was her own sparkling star-shaped hair clip for her little star. Grace Rim was exceptionally proud of her work. Beauty was her business after all. With her expertise she’d created the perfect teenage daughter for a family of their status. The shoes he wore today were far better than the pair from the previous day. The heels were slightly shorter and they didn’t have bows, but the difference was just a matter of a few degrees. When Song slipped his feet into the white shoes, clasping the tiny buckle on the strap, he realized just how tiny he actually was. It wasn’t a new revelation that he was smaller than his peers, but this was different. He didn’t just look small, he looked feminine and it pressed on him like an emotional weight.

The night before, after Bianca left, with the same ruthlessness she displayed in the business world, Grace went from cutthroat business woman to drill sergeant as she educated her new daughter in the ways of womanhood. It was incredibly important to her that anyone carrying the family name carry themselves correctly and right then that meant as a lady should, soft and delicate, but strong enough to never break under a man’s thumb.

Song was made to sit, stand, walk, sit, walk, stand again, and walk again, each time his mother finding some small detail that didn’t measure up to her rigorous standards. By the time she was satisfied with his progress, though those words were never actually uttered, the cruel taskmaster moved on to elocution.

As an immigrant trying to make her way in the American beauty industry she found it incredibly important to make sure she spoke clearly and concisely, that being a method of curbing the racism of the mostly white male investors she had to deal with daily, if only a little. All that vocal training did wonders, but half her life spent growing up elsewhere left a slight accent when speaking English she’d never been able to fully get rid of. Fortunately for Song, or rather unfortunately from his perspective, that was something her baby would never have to deal with.

“The rain in Spain stays mainly on the plains.” The exhausted youth repeated the phrase, over and over again like he and his mother were a gender-swapped version of Henry Higgins and Eliza Doolittle, though like Audrey Hepburn, he still wore a very pretty dress.

“Raise your inflection at the end. Make sure to fully enunciate every word. Young ladies don’t mumble. Softer. Sweeter. Not too sweet. You don’t want people walking all over you.” The irony was lost on the mother turned governess as she continued to walk all over the beatdown teen. As much as he hated the task, in the back of his mind Song actually enjoyed just how much attention Grace was showing him. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her son, but they didn’t have much common ground to stand on, and with her usually busy at the office, it’s no wonder he regularly felt ignored. She definitely wasn’t ignoring him now. He was incredibly grateful when he was finally “allowed” to change into one of his brand new nightgowns before washing his makeup off and crawling into bed. Lying there, he schemed away, trying to weasel his way out of his comeuppance, but as he drifted off to sleep his mind wasn’t on sneaking out in boy clothes, or finding his freedom, but rather the phrase, “The rain in Spain…” repeating in his thoughts.

Song begged his mother to drive him to the mall, or let him drive his own BMW but she insisted he take the city bus because he needed to get over going out dressed as he was, and more time in public would only accelerate the process. Like the day before, the outfit seemed to have a profound effect on the normally brash boy. Gone was the entitled sneer, replaced with a demure beauty, sitting just as a little lady should, demonstrating her modesty. The same could not be said for Emer.

The blonde delinquent sat confidently in his new outfit, though that meant every person who drove by slow enough got a good look of his new silky panties while he demonstrated a perfect encapsulation of the term man-spreading. Still it was a cute outfit picked out for him by his stepmother. It was a blue bodycon dress with a little pink floral pattern dotted throughout over a simple, but tall pair of brown leather strap slingbacks. It was a tender process but tolerable when Rose swapped his freshly pierced pearl earrings for a pair of little gold drop hoops that better matched his mother’s necklace.

The night before Rose was practically gushing over her new stepdaughter. “Emery, I just can’t believe how pretty you are. Those baby blues are too much. You’re gonna break a lot of hearts, sweetie.” The two were sitting on the couch in matching pajamas, at the excited woman’s insistence. She had two sets of fuzzy pajama pants covered in little hearts sitting in her dresser drawer, and while the packrat didn’t know exactly why she saved the repeat Christmas gift, right then she was glad she did.

“You can still call me Emer.” Despite his absurdly easy going nature, he was still a little embarrassed at being addressed with the feminine version of his name. This only got him a glomping hug in response.

“Yeah no, Emery, don’t you dare feel guilty for being who you are. You don’t have to go by anything else to keep other people happy. It’s sweet of you, but this is a situation where I think it’s perfectly healthy for you to be a little selfish. I’m sorry I didn’t see it before, but it’s perfectly clear to me now. You don’t have to pretend anymore. I’m making it my mission from now on to help you feel exactly how you look, and like exactly what you are, the prettiest girl on the block, both inside and out. You know, funny enough, when I was pregnant I so wanted a little girl, not that I don’t love little Abner of course, but I’ve been thinking about talking with your father about trying for another baby, but now I don’t have to. Rather than giving Abner a new little sister, he can get to know his older sister instead. Besides, when they are babies it's just cleaning up the same messes. Now I get to skip to the good part. We’re going to have so much fun gossiping, talking about boys…or girls, you can love whoever you want.” Rose said all this knowing how popular her step child had been with the ladies with their easy smile and charm. Now thinking part of it might have been because they felt a kindred spirit in the teen. Oh my gosh, prom is going to be so much fun. I’ll have to hold off gaining the forty pounds that comes with forty so we can keep sharing clothes. You betcha, I’m excited, I mean for you… with you. Yes! Excited with you!”

The midwestern blonde was giddy as she dreamed of her family’s future. Emer thought about protesting, but decided against it when the thought of Bianca chopping off Little Emer with a pair of scissors popped into his head. It all went down a little easier with the pint of Ben and Jerry’s he and Rose shared as they got settled in for the evening.

It’s not like she minded having a stepson, but she was relishing the girl-time she got to spend with her husband’s firstborn, painting his nails a bright shade of orange while the two sat on the couch watching tv the night before, while Emer’s baby brother crawled around on the floor. When Rose handed Emer a matching brown leather, shoulder-strap purse before he walked out the door, he was confused since it wasn’t like he carried anything in his pockets anyway, but she insisted, telling him they couldn’t afford to replace his phone if he broke it. When he noticed the twenty dollar bill she’d slipped in he decided not to complain and gladly accepted it.

“You’re giving everyone a free show. Close your legs, Emer.” Song said, chastising the carefree youth, though not with his usual arrogant tone, but rather like he was the blonde girl’s prudish friend trying to teach her a thing or two about elegance.

Emer didn’t know what Song was talking about, but he found it extremely funny that the spoiled rich kid was behaving so out of character. It wasn’t like they swapped his brain out with some debutante. “You need to calm down, Song.” he said, though not spitefully. He was actually trying to help his friend relax. “It’s just clothes after all. Like, we’ve got nothing to worry about. We’re really hot. I mean, I’m definitely hotter but you’re hot too. Just remember, the only way out is through.” It was an exceptionally wise remark from Emer, quoting Robert Frost, though he’d actually heard it on some TV show the night before.

Throughout this entire interaction Emmanuel was his usual quiet self, though rather than lost in a deep depressed introspection, this time, he was just plain dumbfounded by how easily Emer was taking all this. It was like he actually enjoyed being hot. He was almost jealous of the two as they went on about their experiences at home. His evening was spent alone eating reheated meatloaf, and looking at an empty chair across the kitchen table. The lonely youth was grateful his mom always made sure he had a healthy meal to eat, but he’d rather she be there, than off working one of her many jobs to keep said food in the little apartment. He wanted to tell her about the insanity that was his day, but changed his mind when he realized her reaction might not be so pleasant. Fortunately for him, he didn’t have to think too hard about it as the bus arrived to whisk away the trio to start the first official day of their punishment.