Time will tell

Wednesday 24 February 2010

I walked through the corridor at school this morning feeling really refreshed. My cold is not gone, of course, but staying home yesterday helped (even if all I did was type on the computer all day) and my voice is still raspy and sore but least I can talk today. I had on my black sweater and black tights and a really cute bronze-coloured wool skirt and my black booties and I felt really good about myself, like nothing was going to let me down. This is what an imbecile I am.

At homeroom is when the notes get passed round. You get passes to the nurse, to guidance, for early dismissal... and from your friendly neighbourhood school administrators. Mine was in an envelope--

'Sorry about your illness-- hope you are feeling better today. We have considered the girls' letter and are eager to meet with your panel this afternoon in the main office conference room. Please check in with the office this morning if you are able to make it.'

This cordial little note was signed with the principal's initials.

I sat and stared at it till the bell rang. Jessy met me in the corridor and saw me with the note in my hand. 'You got yours?'

I nodded. 'How many are there?'

'Just the exec board got them,' she said-- meaning the four of us who act as officers of the girls' club. The school administration are apparently mistaking the girls' social club for the GAGA movement. The GAGA movement doesn't exactly have officers, so maybe that's why.

I suggested we invite two of the other girls who are not in the club but who have been vocal about the bigger (GAGA) issues. Jessy agreed. We reconvened the nucleus of this meeting over lunch and agreed on the six people who would make up the board. From then on I began to feel nervous. Before eighth period I went into the lavatories and rang Mother. 'They're calling us in this afternoon,' I said.

She knew what that was about. She asked who was on the panel and I told her and then she said, 'Do you need me for anything?'

I thought about it. I really did feel like I needed guidance, you know. But I would be brave. 'No, Mother. It'll be all right. We have a legitimate cause, you know. We'll just say that we expect something good out of it.'

'Something good will come out of it, Janine. Because you are right.'

'Thanks, Mother.'

'God bless you, good girl. Call if you need me.'

That made me feel better. And I was not late to history class.

Rather than to all wander in to the meeting at different times, we all met in the front hall, just lingering as though we were waiting for a bus, and then at 2.20 we turned and marched en masse in to the conference room. The APs were already there, the child-study team guy was there, and my guidance counsellor, as on the other day. The principal came in a moment later. We had not even sat down yet. 'Ah,' he said, 'so this is it, then? The delegation?'

None of us responded to that. It sounded insincere. We were waved to sit down and there were not enough chairs, so someone got two more and we were able to sit in a semicircle at the end of the table. The AP (not Mr H--, but the female one) began by reading over the letter, of which we all had copies. I just nodded a lot.

Mr H-- said, 'We know that you girls have some issues with what you perceive the administration does regarding sexual-harassment cases in this school.'

The girls all looked at me, but I just nodded. Becky sat next to me, taking notes-- she was writing down their exact words (from which I have got most of this). The principal, who was sort of near her, leaned his head over to read what she wrote. It didn't matter-- truth is truth.

Mr H-- said, 'We want to assure you that none of this is personal, that no-one on this administration has anything against any of you personally, no matter what might have happened in the past.'

We all just nodded again.

'And we want to assure you-- to reassure you-- that we will continue to do all we can to ensure that you girls-- that all students in this school-- have the safest, healthiest learning environment that we can possibly provide.'

And we all just nodded again. Say nothing, that was what we had decided. Let them make the first move.

'Your letter addresses some specific concerns,' the other AP said. 'Such as... rude comments-- what you called "sexual innuendo" coming from teachers as well as students. Can you give some specific examples?'

I looked round and they were all looking at me. I pointed at Sherry first. Sherry nodded and gave an account of how she an administrator called her a 'player' because some boy she did not like was able to corner her in the cafeteria and kiss her against her will. Becky mentioned that her PE teacher (the male one) had told her to move her 'fat butt' during class. I mentioned Mr H--'s comments to me in the office about Sherry's detention. Jessy spoke up and contributed her experience about one of her teachers laughing when one of the boys in her class called her a 'foxy piece of ***'. (She actually said the word too. Sometimes Jessy can shock you.)

The administrators before us all stared with their eyes wide open or else looked down at the table. That guy from the child-study team was writing everything down at full speed.

So was Becky.

'The letter,' I said, 'requests you as the administration only to enforce what is already your job to enforce. We know the code-- we've seen it. We are wondering why the teachers and administrators don't seem to care about it.'

The (female) AP said, 'This thing about your teacher--' she wagged her finger-- 'Jessy, is it? When did that happen?'

'About a month ago,' said Jessy.

'And you didn't report it? Why not?'

'I said something to the teacher about it,' Jessy said. 'I don't think anything got done.' She looked at me then. Deliberately I would not look at her.

'Well, we can't do anything if we don't hear about it,' the (female) AP said.

'Are we supposed to be put in the position of having to report teachers to their superiors?' I asked.

They all looked at me. The principal-- not looking at me then-- said, 'If that's what it takes, yes.'

The other administrators all agreed with that. Then the AP said, 'You say that students have harassed you too.'

'They have,' I said. The principal asked us to give details. We had (written down in our presentation notes) four cases which were enough for examples. None of the cases was minor-- like, in this blog I mentioned my sister being gawked at. That's going to happen, but really it's just rude and stupid. The cases we mentioned were more like guys making rude comments on a girl's appearance when teachers did nothing about it, guys asking girls for sexual favours (not just dates) during school time, and administrators not taking seriously any girls' complaints about anything like this.

The female AP fixed her eyes on me and asked, 'Why do you wear a skirt to school every day, or nearly every day?'

I fixed my eyes on her. 'Why do you?'

'I don't, not always,' she said. She hadn't today.

'Neither do I,' I said.

'I have noticed you've been wearing skirts nearly every day since the winter break.' ('Winter break' is what American public schools call 'Christmas'. It's okay to declare it a public holiday, but not okay to say the name of the occasion for it.)

I said, 'I don't think it matters what I wear. I'm a lady, and I wear skirts. I'm still entitled to respect, which I am not getting.'

'Do you ever think that your choice of wardrobe invites a certain kind of attention?' she asked me.

'That's a sexist comment,' Becky said immediately.

'Yes it is,' Jessy said immediately after that.

'It's not a girl's fault that she has the body she has,' Sherry said. 'Or even that she's a girl to begin with. The whole point of discrimination is that you can't hold us to a different standard because we're girls.'

'And happen to dress like girls,' Jessy said. She had worn a nice skirt today too.

'I never thought I dressed inappropriately,' I said to the other girls, as though I were sincerely disappointed, you know. Then I turned round and looked at the AP. 'I thought I was dressing to look serious, and to show respect for the school, the teachers and what I have to do here.'

'That hardly matters to a bunch of teenaged boys,' Mr H-- said then.

'"Boys will be boys",' I said cynically then. 'Is that really what you want to say at this point?'

'Now, then--'

'So,' Jessy said, 'we should change how we dress and act because some idiot teenaged boys don't know how to act properly?'

'Maybe you need to,' the (female) AP said then.

'It's our school too,' said Bonnie, one of our other girls.

Mr H-- scoffed at us. 'Do you really expect to change that much of how all teenaged boys act? Unfair or not, wouldn't it be more sensible to play it a little safe?'

We all sat there with our mouths open for a moment. Then I pushed back the chair. 'Are we done, then? Is that what you're saying?'

'Tomorrow I'm wearing a swimsuit,' Jessy smirked then.

'No you're not,' the AP said. --and we all started to push back the chairs.

'Hold on,' the principal said.

We all stopped, pushed back from the table. 'Sir,' I said to him, 'if this is an educational institution, and it's supposed to be preparing people for the real world, is it too much to ask that you as an educator actually try to educate these miscreants?' He smiled when I said that. 'I mean-- I have been to places in the world most of these students haven't. And I know for sure that the way they behave, at times, would never pass anywhere but here-- maybe here. And, Sir, you know it too.'

He was nodding.

'And I was raised that if I have something good to offer people, I should try to share it with them. If what I have to offer is a good example, I'm going to try to set that good example. And I'm not wrong, Sir-- I'm not incorrect, and I think you know I'm not doing it out of ego.'

He was nodding.

'Because, Sir, you know as well as I do that if these... miscreants go out into the real world and see a young woman in a skirt, if they're standing there with tongues hanging out tossing sexist comments at her it's not going to fly. What if it's an employer or a bank lender-- or a police officer?'

'Police officers don't wear short skirts,' the AP said then.

I looked at her. 'Is it that you don't see my point, or do you just like mocking me?'

'I'm not mocking you--'

'I see your point,' said the principal, and then he looked round at the others then. 'I'm only uncomfortable because a student has to teach it to me.' Then he looked at me and smiled. 'But that's not something I mind, if it's a point well taken. So, Janine. What do you propose that we do? Be specific.'

I smiled a little back at him. 'Thank you, Sir,' I said. I couldn't resist glaring at the (female) AP then. Oh, and I glared at Mr H-- too. 'Well-- we're not asking to be treated like goddesses. Some girls at this school are completely inappropriate, and some boys are very gentlemanlike. But I do think that you, Sir, could speak to some teachers, maybe at a faculty meeting, let them know students have complained, let them know you take it seriously, and most importantly let them know that you believe it's a point well taken. That it's part of the... mission of a school to teach proper behaviour, for the real world.'

He nodded. 'I can do that,' he said.

'And please take it seriously when a girl comes in sincerely concerned about being treated impolitely. Some people won't say anything, some people will make a little thing into a big thing, but some of us will actually have a point to be well taken, Sir. And it only hurts when you're a girl and you realise no-one really takes you seriously, or like as long as you show enough leg it's not important. And it might be hard for some people-- I was taught not to use foul language and it's difficult if you ask me to repeat what someone might have said... but if that's what it takes maybe I could-- I don't know-- write it down or something.'

They all smiled then. Becky's hand was flying over the paper-- she was getting most of my words exactly. (The rest I have tried to remember.)

'But if it's serious, Sir-- and forgive me for saying this-- then you have to take it seriously. Look, we try to take you seriously, when you say we are under all these expectations. We do our work, we attend dances and club meetings, we are not inappropriate or disrespectful-- if I may say so, we're the students who hold up this school. We help make it look good. We're not your enemies.'

He was nodding. He tends to be quiet and to listen more than he talks, which is good. Jessy said, 'All we ask is that you respect us, Sir. And show us you do, by how you act, by how the school acts.'

He looked at her. 'I can do that,' he said. Then-- the moment of truth-- he looked round the rest of the administration at the table. 'Can we all do that?'

They all nodded. --the [female] AP last of all.

He asked if anyone had anything else, and no-one did. Then he said, 'What I would like to do, Janine, is to ask this group to meet back with us next week, so we can iron out some details. I think that if we're codifying a finer point about behaviour and expectations, we should have your input. Can we say... Wednesday next week? Can we all be here?'

This was agreed. The principal thanked us all, we girls thanked the administrators, and everyone got up to go. Then he asked me to wait a moment behind. The other girls lingered in the corridor-- Jessy leaned in the open doorway. Likewise the [female] AP stayed behind with the principal in the conference room. I got the feeling it was always going to be like this now, no one-on-one meetings without seconds present-- not because of the fear of inappropriate conduct (no, not at all!) but because of jurisprudence-- it's become all like a courtroom now, somewhat cold and formal even though there is grudging respect. We don't trust the school and the school doesn't trust us. Then the principal put out his hand.

'I'd like to thank you, Janine, for giving us a lesson we probably do deserve to hear, especially from a student.'

I took his hand and we shook on it. 'Thank you, Sir.'

'I'm not going to be blind, or proud, and say we haven't made mistakes. I only hope that working through these issues we can work as a team. Your eyes and ears in the hallways are as good as anyone's-- you, and your club, and all the girls you few here are representing. And you're right-- in some ways you very much uphold the good name of the school. I won't want to see that get tarnished.'

'I hope we can work through it too,' I said. 'All we want is to help.'

He nodded, and then followed me out to the corridor with Jessy. 'Majoring in English, hm?' he said, and then stopped and smiled at Jessy. 'See if you can convince your sister to take up law.'

Jessy laughed. 'Oh, she won't hear of it!' And we all laughed.

...

Skirts on the warpath

Monday, 22 February 2010

I have not kept up in this blog concerning the big issue about the discrimination against us girls at the high school. Over the last few weeks we have taken a few initiatives to stand up for ourselves and to refuse to be treated disrespectfully. This movement (GAGA, for Girls Against Grobians Association) kind of came out of our girls' club but it is bigger than that and the club makes up only about a third of the actual membership. The other 20-odd of us are just girls who are fed up.

The first thing we did was to make t-shirts. Everyone in the GAGA group got one. We wear them on Mondays. Of course the girls' club have already been wearing our 'colours' on every Thursday (club meeting day), exactly what Mr H-- feared we would do, which is part of the reason why we're doing it. The 'colours' are the plaid parochial-school skirt (which we've all had appropriately tailored of course) and the plain navy-blue sweatshirt (for winter) with the club logo (designed by Jessy) on it, and navy tights and decent (black) shoes (sometimes Jessy wears high black boots with hers, which looks adorable). We look like girl scouts or private-school students, but not quite. GAGA girls who are not in the club wear a nice skirt and top or a dress. It's strictly voluntary, of course, but on any given day I'd say 25 or 30 of us are dressed up, noticeably more than the 3 or 4 I used to observe at this school. This is four days a week, and on Fridays we wear jeans or leggings.

The reaction has been mixed. Most other girls in school hate it-- they accuse us of 'taking over the dress code' or 'making it uncool to wear a skirt'. Of course this is their version of it. The reality is that we're really doing it for them too, and we haven't claimed anything but the right to respect. It's really about us and the teachers, the administrators, and the male students. Most of the male students like it-- they admit they like to see legs, but part of what we've determined as a group of girls is that we don't show too much-- nothing too short, nothing too low-cut, nothing gaudy or clingy-- definitely cotton-blend tights are the order for the day in winter.

Jessy and I gave some lessons on how to walk up stairs (close to the wall, legs together, short smooth steps) and how to sit (ankles crossed, never a foot off the ground, legs turned to the side, skirt held down with hands in lap). Everyone was impressed that we knew how to do that, and that they could do it as well. I also stood up at that meeting and talked about grammar. A lot of the girls said there wasn't time for an English lesson, and it kind of hurt me because I believe that's one thing we can always do better in (see? That should have been 'one thing in which we can always do better'). But I agreed and said, 'Can we just agree to not be egregious about it?'

'And to not curse,' Jessy said.

'Yes,' someone else agreed. That was what we all agreed.

Using foul language is about the single worst thing a girl can do if she ever expects to be respected as a lady. It reduces you to a skank who is letting everyone know you don't care what impression you make on other people. And the impression a girl who curses makes on other people is never positive. Guys won't be impressed at all, which is totally antiproductive for the girl. Other girls will alienate you. Teachers hate it. Parents hate it. In public it's the worst thing you can do without flashing your underwear.

A girl should avoid foul language at all costs. At the very least, you might learn new bits of the language you should use instead, and that would only make you look more intelligent. And to many people, a smart girl is a virtuous girl-- the two seemed to be assumed to go together, which even if it's false logic still works for us.

The other thing we did was to send a letter, signed as a petition by all of us, to the administration asking that 'decency statutes' --bans on cursing, sexual innuendo, sexual harassment by teachers and students, all forms of bullying, as well as the infamous displays of public affection-- be more consistently and quickly enforced. We wrote that 'there is no reason why a school response to any such infraction needs to be delayed.' In other words, we would rather have a teacher stop the lesson to enforce the rule-- send the violator out, assign a detention, whatever-- than to let it go, issue some kind of trite verbal warning, and essentially push the issue under the carpet, which is what most teachers and administrators do.

The letter continued, 'If a school is truly serious about promoting an atmosphere of dignity and respect, and about responding to infractions with meaningful disciplinary consequences, then nothing we have stated here should be considered anything but sensible, appropriate and within the full compass of what is reasonable and possible.' (I wrote that part-- can you tell?)

We also said that, seeing no reason for the school to not comply, that we expected a 'material improvement in [the school]'s de facto policy forthwith.'

This letter was sent on February 15th. Because of the snow we had not had the chance to meet before then. (Oh, by the way, we meet in one of the classrooms after school. Would they dare to stop us?) On Thursday the 18th I was summoned to the office (after school) to meet with Mr H-- as well as the principal and, as it turned out, the other AP, my counsellor and some guy from the business office (I think). I walked in (in my club 'colours' of course), set down my books (did not even sit down at the table) heard their first question and respectfully requested that the meeting be rescheduled when a more appropriate 'panel' of involved girls could attend all at once.

'This meeting is just with you, Janine,' the principal said.

'Yes, Sir. As you will see, there are thirty-two other names on that petition.'

'We recognised your hand in this letter,' Mr H-- said.

'But I was only one of about six girls who wrote that letter,' I said.

'We assumed you were the ringleader in this.'

I made a smirk then. I could not help it. 'I am not responsible for what you are willing to assume, Sir,' I said. 'Would a day next week be available? I'm sure we can get a panel together by then.'

'You say in here that there is some urgency, and you want to wait till next week?' they asked.

I did not want to get into the issues, but I couldn't resist that. 'Sir, there are disciplinary cases at this school for issues touching on sexual harassment that are not resolved in longer periods of time than that.'

They all stared up at me (I was still standing at the end of the table) as though I had accused them personally of these infractions. 'How could you possibly know if that's true?' the other AP asked me.

I scooped up my books under my arm. 'I'm sure the group will be very eager to meet with you all. I'll get in touch with everyone, and we'll see if we can schedule something next week. All right?'

They protested. The other AP said, 'Janine, the principal is asking YOU a question, not your group.'

I nodded at them all. 'Yes, Ma'am,' I said. 'Oh, one thing-- we'll need time if we have to engage legal counsel. Unless that won't be an issue--?'

They all stared at me with their mouths hanging open and I turned round and walked out.

This is part of the reason I did not want to stay home sick, for I have been worried that they would call in some of the other girls when they'd know I wasn't there to 'ringlead'. So far I have not heard if they attempted to talk to anyone today. I did hear yesterday, however, when I was on an unrelated trip to the front office, that a change to this week's school-board meeting agenda had been submitted (in writing as they all are) from our school's principal's office. When I told Daddy about that he said, 'Well, I'll be sure to attend that and bring popcorn!'

...

I learn a new word

Friday, 9 January 2010

It snowed over the night, but it was not very much and in fact the house wasn't even as chilly as I expected. I had a soothing warm shower in the morning and stood at my mirror doing my face wash for a while before Lisa came in. She was in her nightgown, one of the ones Mother made, like a long version of an 18th-century shift but in flannel, white with little red-and-gold roses scattered about it. She padded in with socks on her feet and leaned back against the wainscot beside the basin where I daubed at my face. I had my long white towel draped round my shoulders and the regular-sized one binding up my hair, but it was not cold enough to worry about more than that even though the basin is right next to the window. 'Hey,' she said.

'Hey,' I said.

'How was your shower?'

'Hot,' I said. 'Only way to have it on a cold morning.'

She smiled at me, leaning back against the wall and folding and refolding her hands in front of herself. 'You don't look cold,' she said.

I shrugged. 'I'm not.'

She leaned there, going on with her hands like that and swivelling a little, back and forth, on her heels. I realised she was looking me over, but I've always known she likes to look me over. When you're six and you have teenaged sisters, you're going to be fascinated by them. Jessy and I know we're her role models. When you're sixteen or eighteen and your six-year-old sister looks up to you, it's a pretty high honour.

Then again, having a six-year-old sister does have its awkward moments. She spent a long few minutes just looking at me-- as I said I wasn't dressed-- and then said, 'When can I get fuzz on my cootie?'

I moved the eyeliner pencil away before I laughed. 'What?!'

She got a little red, swivelling on her heels like that, and looked down-- at about my hip, maybe lower. 'I just wondered,' she said.

'Wondered about your... what was it--?' I looked down at her.

'Cootie,' she said quietly. 'That's what the boys call it.'

I scowled then. 'What boys?'

She got redder. 'Well, Richard and his friends call it that. They say it's what girls have.'

I nodded. 'We do, but I don't think Richard and his friends have any business talking about it like that in front of you.'

She shrugged then. 'Richard says his mother doesn't have fuzz on hers.'

I went red then. 'Good Lord!' I said. 'How on earth would he know?'

'He says he saw it,' Lisa said.

'Good Lord!' I put down the makeup bag on the back of the basin, wrapped the towel round my shoulders and strode round her and out to my room.

'Are you mad?' she asked, following me.

'No. Not at you, anyway. I just think this Richard character is a little unnecessarily rakish for my little sister to be fraternising with.'

'He's just a boy,' she said. 'They're all like that.'

'Remind me to tell Mother to say something to the school then,' I said, and took out my clothes to get dressed.

'Jessy says you get fuzz when you get your buppies,' Lisa said.

I smiled a little then. 'Yes, a little before, sometimes.'

'Will I get it when I'm eleven?'

I smiled at her. 'Maybe. Maybe a little after that.'

'Will I get it when I'm twelve?'

I nodded. 'I would think so.'

She nodded too. 'Okay,' she said, and she turned to go then.

'Out of curiosity,' I said, and waited for her to turn back, 'why are you wondering about it?'

Lisa got a little red then. For whatever she doesn't know, she makes up for it by blushing really well. She's studied in all the ladylike graces already-- thanks to Mother, me, and Jessy, as well as Gran. I have no doubt that when she's twelve she will be the most dastardly little charmer in whatever school she's in then. 'I don't know....' She stood swivelling on her heels again-- she does that when she's shy or embarrassed. 'Will I be as pretty as Jessy is?'

I smiled and went to her, bent down, and kissed her head. 'You already are,' I said.

'No I'm not. She's pretty and has pretty hair and pretty eyes and pretty buppies.'

'And fuzz on her cootie?' I giggled.

Lisa giggled too. 'Yes.'

I bent over and kissed her again. When I do that, especially naked, she looks upwards and I know what she sees. But she never says much about me. It's well carried in the family that Lisa takes after Jessy more than me anyway-- they are two of a kind, separated by ten years, both playful, witty, cuddly and with a tendency to pamper themselves. Jessy may be her role model, but I am almost a second mother. I'm the one she comes in to snuggle with when she's having a bad dream or feeling too chilly, not Jessy, and I'm the one she asks the important questions to. And as I said, it's a pretty high honour, especially when I think that I am actually closer to Mother (my stepmother, Lisa's mummy) in age than I am to her child.

I remember one time when Mother was still our nanny, a beautiful young woman (actually a teenager) living with us as an au pair, and I happened to wander in to her room and came upon her just putting on her bra. And I stood there and stared at her as though she were a goddess. We always thought she was pretty, and I had seen her in swimsuits (almost always a bikini unless she was swimming laps) plenty of times, but suddenly I was eight and she was gorgeous and I felt terrifically envious. And I started asking her about things, when she got her first period and how she knew it was coming and how she felt when parts of her started developing, and she never flinched and never got embarrassed and never refused to answer anything I asked. She realised then I was her role model and she considered it a very high honour. And so when I think about that, I realise that the way I pay back my terrific role model is to be the best one I can be for her child.

'Well,' I said, 'you are already very pretty, and your mother is pretty, and your sister Jessy is pretty, and I know you will only get prettier and prettier as you grow up. So I want you to remember that, and don't worry too much about when everything will happen to you. God provides in His own time, you know.'

She nodded. 'I know. But what if it never comes?'

'What if what never comes?'

'My... you know. Fuzz on my cootie.'

'Oh, it will come, sweetie.'

'You have it and Jessy has it,' she said-- and now she looked down at me as though to remind herself-- but Richard's mother doesn't. And I'm pretty sure she's old enough.'

I got red then. 'Well, all girls get it, but some girls just shave it off.'

'Shave it? Like with a razor?'

I nodded.

'Isn't that sharp?'

'Very sharp,' I said.

'Ewww!' And she covered her crutch, in the nightgown, with both hands then. 'What if I don't want it off?'

I laughed. 'Then don't shave it,' I said simply.

She nodded then. 'I won't!'

There it is-- common sense from the mouths of babes. 'There's a good girl,' I said, and turned to go back and step into my panties.

'I want to be pretty like you are,' she said softly then.

I stood up, shimmying into the panties, and smiled over at her. 'You will be, sweetie.'

She giggled a little and scampered off.

On the way down to the car Jessy asked me, 'Did she come into your room again last night?'

'No,' I said. 'Just after my shower.'

'She adores you,' Jessy told me. 'She's lucky to have you.'

'And you,' I said.

Jessy shrugged. She's heard that before. 'She learns more from you.'

'I learn from her too. Like, this morning, she taught me a new word,' I said, and when we got into the car I told her about it.

...

She's got legs

Wednesday 16 December 2009

Here in the US the girls have a fashion trend of wearing extremely tight spandex-blend tights with no feet which they call 'leggings'. Of course at HOH we all wore school uniform and never had to deal with this. For one thing it's much, much colder in England during the winter and plain spandex-cotton blend would feel about like wearing underwear or a swimsuit round your whole body in winter, which would hardly be warm at all. In England we all wore skinny jeans or just regular jeans when we were not at school, and that was really only practical.

(All right, I am a priss and wore skirts and winterweight tights a lot too.)

I have been wearing skirts and winterweight tights most often since about the middle of November. This is my usual costume for school (and shopping and church and really anywhere else). The tights are not too warm for indoors and do stop a lot of draught outside-- they are really about the equivalent of wearing close-fitting jeans, plus they have the added benefit of being supremely comfortable with plenty of 'give' and almost feel like they're not on at all, except they're warm. I get most of mine from Land's-End. I have lots of colours, mostly dark ones.

Jessy and some of her friends were shopping at Lynnhaven recently and she came back with what they are calling 'leggings' here. I always thought 'leggings' were just leg-warmers, you know, with no top and no feet, just for your legs, like in ballet. Apparently they are either really close-fitting pants or really heavy tights. Girls at school have been wearing them for a while. Anyway she bought some for me as well.

A few weeks ago I heard a girl in the school corridor say, 'I am so tired of not wearing pants.' And I looked, and she had cute black leggings on. So apparently you do not consider leggings 'pants'. They are a thing apart. Most girls wear them with some kind of long shirt that covers up most of the top of the leggings, at least to the very bottom of their bottom. It's considered very bad form to show more than that-- for example you must never show the TOP of the leggings. This is probably because most girls pull them up drastically high on their tummies to keep them up and keep them tight all round everywhere else. I can see the logic of this. Jessy's so slender that only the very smallest size will do for her.

And of course, there is the issue of what to wear under them. Of course I always wear panties under my tights-- this isn't ballet or gymnastics and the tights I wear are more spandex and microfibre and less cotton, so they're not exactly the most sanitary or comfortable thing to wear without, you know. (I really should give less information!) But leggings are mostly cotton, or at least more breathable fabric, because they're meant to take some amount of abrasion, like jeans, and not be fragile, like tights. After all, you have to sit on them. Jessy modelled hers in her room for me and then said, 'Janine, I think we may have actually found the elusive logical reason for thong panties.'

I wrinkled my nose at her. 'Ugh. No.'

She turned, clapped her hands to her own bottom, and looked in the mirror. 'Well,' she said, 'these aren't too bad....'

The black leggings, pulled up on her tummy, revealed very little of her panty lines. I stood there staring at the mirror too. 'Well, if you had flat seams and flat hems....'

'Yes,' Jessy said. Like me she abhors thong panties. She is even more of a priss than I am. 'Well,' she said, 'I do have some somewhere.'

I thought a little more. 'Well,' I finally said, 'you shouldn't be showing that much of them anyway. I mean you're going to wear something over that. A pulli, or a shirt, or jacket or something.'

'A jacket would be cute,' she said.

'Sure it would. Or just a nice long flannie.'

'Yes,' she said.

'A girl's got to have standards, love,' I said. 'Just because the pants fit doesn't mean you have to show all you've got.'

She turned and smiled at me. 'I know. You're right. You're always right about these things.'

I made a smile at her too. 'I'm going to wear mine with the blue-and-white flannie.'

She giggled and then spun round, in her bare feet-- for she had nothing else on but the black leggings and the almost-invisible panties-- and flung open her wardrobe to find a shirt. I went back to my room and chose carefully from my wardrobe for what I would wear in the morning.

Of course you have to wear socks with them too, because they stop before your ankles. I prefer to pull up socks outside them, because I find the ends of the leggings as undesirable as the top. They're really just a skintight body covering between two more important fashion statements-- your shoes and socks and your top. I think that once you embrace that concept, you will choose leggings that are a pretty neutral colour and that don't take away from what else you are wearing. I mean, they're not supposed to be the fashion statement themselves, right? They're just... there.

The first morning I came down stairs wearing leggings, my dad was there to say good-bye to us. I had on the deep-navy leggings and a pale-green-and-white flannie with a white sash tied round my middle as a belt and white socks with my Reeboks. (For some reason only sneakers look good with leggings.) And I had my hair all pushed up with a little white Scünci. 'What's this,' Daddy asked, 'the pixie look?'

'Pixie look?' I wondered. Then I remembered when he had been a performer in the '80s and had been somewhat famous (if I may use that word) for wearing dance tights with long shirts and thick socks (or leg warmers) and ballet shoes, like some sort of modern-day Robin Hood or Romeo Montague, and he had got known for being cute like that, you know. Of course when my dad was in his 20s he was deplorably cute. I suppose there really is nothing new after all.

'It's cute,' Daddy said. 'Just remember to take your pepper spray.'

I blushed. 'Daddy....'

So for the last five or six days at school I have been wearing leggings, not skirts. I admit they are warmer than tights, though not quite as warm as jeans but they are cuter than jeans. I tend to wear a long shirt with curvy tails, which is acceptable. One time last week I wore a polartec pulli, which I had to keep tugging down-- standing up it was fine, long enough to hook over the bottom of my bottom, you know, but whenever I sat down I had to really tuck it underneath myself and then of course it rode up in my lap. But that was manageable and anyway it's a cute look... though I prefer something I have to worry about a little less, you know.

Then, of course, there are the boys who stare at you. Well, I don't mean stare in the way that half the males in the known universe stare at girls. I mean they practically examine you to see what they can see of what they shouldn't be seeing. Leggings tend to invite that-- maybe that's one of the cases in which we girls bring it on ourselves. It is a cute look, and if it's worn properly it's perfectly modest. I mean we all have legs and bottoms and everyone knows that. But to see guys staring up stairways at you, bending down in the class to see up your legs, dropping pencils in the corridors-- it's just horrid. The leggings aren't quite THAT revealing! Maybe they're just hoping to see if they can tell if we're wearing thong panties-- though I can't possibly imagine what importance that knowledge could ever have to some loser guy's life. Why would it matter? I mean, for a real lady, it shouldn't matter what kind of underwear she's wearing because it should never be shown in any way. So I could have on any sort of underwear at all-- even none-- and you wouldn't be able to tell and you wouldn't ever find out. So why should anyone else care?

Even though I'm NOT wearing thong panties with my leggings anyway!

...

Day of the skirts

Thursday, 3 December 2009

On Monday I started a little informal sociological study and since then I have counted a sum total of six different girls who have worn either dresses or skirts over the first three days of this week. That's it. Out of 300-odd girls in this school, six of us (not including me or Jessy) wear skirts. A few weeks ago I brought up an idea at the girls' club meeting and we established a new ritual which commenced the week before Thanksgiving. Since Thursdays are our usual meeting days, from now on all club members will dress up to commemorate that. The wrestlers and football players wear neckties and collared shirts; the cheerleaders wear their outfits, the ROTC members wear their uniforms, on whatever days those groups consider important to them... so why should we not do the same for our own reasons.

Four weeks ago at the meeting there was much discussion. I cannot say it was debate, because we were all pretty much agreed on the basic idea. What we discussed was what our 'club colours' would have to be. Some of the girls (Rita and a few others) insisted that we all wear cute little school-uniform skirts like the grey ones Jessy and I wore when we went to HOH in England. This was met with universal approval. I was probably more flattered than I should have been because I still wear my little grey HOH skirt(s) to school here and that's probably influenced them. Really I was thinking we should wear something less conspicuously elitist. We held a vote between three choices and ended up with a green plaid skirt which we will wear with our own navy-blue club t-shirts or sweatshirts, and for cold weather we will wear navy-blue tights. And the rule is that this is what all nine of us will wear every other Thursday, which are our meeting days.

The first week we wore our 'colours' was the Thursday before Thanksgiving and today was the second time. Of course people have been saying things-- we're snobs, we're superior, we're stuck-up-- all of that means the same thing. We've been told that we're boring. We've been told that we're all gay. We've also got that we're apparently sex teases-- however anyone got that idea I dread to imagine. Most of the other girls at school hate it. Most of the teachers like it. Well, they're both to be expected. What was surprising is that the guys-- and I mean the nice guys-- actually approve of it. I've always hoped, deep down inside, that the private-school-girl look was something guys would actually like. It makes you look nice and good and intelligent, and also, I guess, kind of rich-- though amongst the nine of us we represent a pretty complete range of economic backgrounds.

Of course we've all had the skirts altered, especially to have them shorter-- but they are definitely NOT super short nor anywhere close to that. One of the ideals behind the club in the first place is that it's not only possible, but preferable, to look chic but conservative, to avoid extremes in fashion and especially to be modestly ladylike at all times. It is both a way of demonstrating our own dignity as young women and a way of showing respect for the guys we may end up with. (Does a guy REALLY want a girl who usually dresses as though she's ready for hot-and-heavy sex with anyone? What if it's not just her looks? And what kind of guy would find slutty girls attractive? And what kind of girl would want a guy to think she looked slutty? And-- you get the idea.)

It did seem a little awkward when six of us ended up at the same lunch table during fifth period. But, we are a club and we're supposed to look like we are. Several girls came up and asked what we were about. And we told them, though they didn't seem very impressed. I think they were hoping we were trying to look a little slutty, but I couldn't say if they wanted to be able to put us down or admire us for it.

At tonight's meeting we discussed the upcoming plans. They include buying gifts for the two families we've adopted, contributing to the canned-food drive and the winter-coat drive at Catholic Charities, and carolling at the pensioners' home on the 17th (next meeting time). We've also planned a Boxing-Day party for ourselves and families at this house. And the projects in the spring include the fashion show, the bikini show, more car-wash events and more singing. So whilst we are being mocked and made fun of, this is what we are doing. Forgive us for wearing similar skirts to school at the same time then!

...

Haunting Terncote

Friday, 30 October 2009

For Hallowe'en this year we again decked out the whole castle and hosted Lisa's class-- twenty-four first-graders-- plus three of little JJ's friends, associated parents and young siblings, and a few of our friends from the girls' club, mainly to help out, for a party centred in the basement party room. The 'party' room' is an institution with Daddy, dating back to his first band, when they had a modest little raised bungalow in Surf City with an annexe added to the side for a recording studio and the whole ground floor given over to surfboards, guitars and a private pub with a bar and stage where they played parties before they got big. Ever since then every house he has had-- except the one we have now in Surf City-- has had some kind of facility in the basement for hosting a major bash. At Terncote the basement rooms are all the same sizes as the ones above because the walls here are all structural concrete block in the way that all-brick houses were built 250 years ago. There is a billiards room under the dining room, a bar with tables under the small back parlour, a big party room under the big parlour, a video studio/theatre under Gran's room and an art studio with a kiln (built into the base of the fireplace stack of course) under the north (Daddy's) library. There is a dumbwaiter to the kitchen and a pretty little powder room off the TV room and storage for most of whatever we don't store at Poplar Landing, clothes and costumes and decorations and all that.

The decorating took most of the the last two weeks and the weekend. This being the Series, Daddy made sure the TV was on in the video room. The billiards table was covered with a plywood top and tablecloth and served as the main food buffet. It's mostly supper things, sliced meats and cheese and pepperoni and celery and carrots, applesauce, cranberry sauce, crackers and chips, and, of course, cake and cookies. Mother made up most of it-- this is how she is, rarely ever calling a caterer. Once upon a time she said she was the world's worst cook. Now she is known throughout the community for cakes and cookies (and they are NEVER made from a box mix!).

Daddy took charge of lighting and special effects, draping spiderwebs from walls and doorways, fitting flashing lights with motion-sensors, moving small speakers here and there to have eerie sounds everywhere, inside and out. The whole house was kept dark from the outside but for the front-step lights and one ghostly-looking orangeish light high up in the tower, and then he had spotlights rigged behind the roof so that the silhouette of the house seemed outlined in a bluish glow. Some people said it looked like the most haunted house in Virginia. Jessy started saying it was the Screaming Shack.

Mother and Jessy and I set up games round the whole place, like stations where three or four kids can stop on their way through the place and figure out puzzles or tricks, or draw something, or sing something, or get tickled or scared (only a little), or whatever. A few other parents would help with shepherding kids, leaving Jessy and I to be hall monitors and Daddy to being a greeter and security agent. And Roger lingered outside to supervise parking.

As we did last year, Jessy and I dressed as angels. It's the costume my mother designed, bless her heart, when we were just little. Mother-- our nanny then-- had one too, and she used to go with us treating, The costume is just white tights and a white dance leotard, white ballet slippers, and a cute little white cotton jacket that looks like the cover-up girls in the Regency period wore, buttoning once at the chest, with half sleeves and a little rounded collar, which is worn mainly to hide the straps of the wings, which Daddy made out of fibreglass strips and beautiful gossamer tulle, light as a feather (as angel wings should be) and like 40 inches wide. Lisa's, of course, are smaller. This year I got a new white leotard as my old one is worn and also a little tight (though I blush to say so). Thank God I still wear an S (though just barely). The Capezio leotard is lovely, fully lined in front of course (because, the first rule we learned told us, ballerinas don't wear panties!) and sleek and shimmery. I always have on a bra under it, but the heavyweight, lined spandex and of course the little cotton jacket make it less unsightly, almost invisible really. Jessy, of course, gets a leotard with the so-called 'soft bra' and has nothing else to worry about. How I envy her.

Of course girls from the club came over as well-- they were invited-- and some brought dates. This was sort of a surprise in some cases-- as a kind of breach of protocol both Rita and Paula had not rung ahead to let us know they were each bringing someone, but we always have room for one more. The oddest part was that I had to open the door to a guy I'd never met before in this angel costume. The guy's eyes went all over me like I was a pinup. It made me blush (I wish it had not). 'Hello,' I said politely, 'and welcome--'

'Janine!' Paula mushed. 'That's the costume? My God-- you are gorgeous!'

I laughed at that and stepped back to admit them to the front foyer. 'It's just the usual thing. About the only thing I wear for Hallowe'en at all now.'

'It's cute,' the guy said. Paula introduced him and I showed them to the front stairs to have then descend to the party. Later I was down there and encountered Paula's date as he was leaning on the bar looking a little lost or left-out. Paula-- the adorable twit-- had got into a chat that didn't involve him somewhere. 'Good party,' he said to me then.

I turned towards him after going sideways through the doorway (because of the wings). 'If you're a first-grader,' I said.

He laughed. 'Paula's right,' he said. 'It is a great costume.'

I shrugged. The wings bounce when I do that. 'I like it,' I admitted. 'At least it's comfortable.'

He asked about the wings and I told him how they stayed on, though of course I would not open the little jacket to show him. I always get a V-neck leotard, not a 'princess' cut like Jessy gets. The jacket covers it up mostly, though it's the chest coverage I care about. I helped myself to a glass of 'adult punch' and stood there talking with Paula's date till Paula came back. Then her date asked after the lavatory and I gave him directions. Paula turned to me at once. 'I think he likes you,' she said.

I smiled at that. 'I think he's your date, love.'

She shrugged. 'We're just friends. He said he wanted to see the place, so.... You don't mind?'

'Mind that he wants to see the place? Of course not.'

'Do you mind that he likes you?'

I shrugged at her. 'Is he in eleventh?' She nodded. 'Well....' I thought and then said, 'He's welcome to like whomever he likes.'

She laughed. 'Really I'm sure it's the costume anyway. My God-- I wish I'd worn that!'

'So maybe next year you will. I'll be away for this by then.'

'Oh, yeah, right. Wow....'

When her date returned I left them, and not ten minutes after that I saw him chatting up Jessy. She seemed much more interested in him than I was. I wonder if there could be anything in that.

Little JJ had wanted to wear something with tights too-- from having seen all of us working on costumes all month-- and Mother made up a Robin Hood costume for him, a very pretty green cotton tunic and cute folded cap worn with a leather belt and, of course, green tights. Daddy spray-painted the child's ballet shoes green to match. So JJ galloped round the whole house like that, weaving a short plastic sword (it's supposed to be a Roman once, but Daddy painted the hilt to look like wood) and announcing he would 'rob the rich and pay the poor'. Several people indulged him and he soon had a little canvas sack full of candybars and spare change. I think he made about six dollars on the night. I broke a nail trying to get paper donkey-tails out of the donkey poster and dropped a full beer mug (of punch!) on my foot, saving the mug and bruising my toe. Nevertheless I will go out with the little ones tomorrow. 'Tis the season, and all that.

* * *

The plunge that refreshes

Wednesday 23 September

I wore a nice dress today to school. It's one of my London dresses that I got this summer. It's just a dress, you know, in cotton/rayon with short sleeves and soft skirts falling to just at my fingertips, which is what is called 'a good length' --you know, not too short and not too long. I didn't wear a slip under it (it's lined) and so it felt very cool on such a hot day. Of course going up stairs I kept to the wall side. I usually do in a skirt or dress anyway. This is one benefit of when women wore floor-length skirts-- like my Colonial outfit for reenactments or the ice-cream shop, and you all know what I have said about when I wear that one.

Anyway I got many nice compliments. I will wear an actual dress maybe three days of a school year. More often I wear a skirt, you know. Of about 450 girls in this school, on any given day maybe 40 of them will be wearing skirts, and less than 4 of them will be wearing dresses. The rest wear jeans or trainers (US: 'sweatpants'). I try to get a little dressed-up at least once a week, often twice, but with having PE second period it's awkward, you know. Today girls in the cabana (US: 'locker room') had nice things to say about the dress. The colour is not me at all-- a deep, violet-indigo that's almost sensually suggestive. [giggle] I really do love it, even if I'd rather not be known that way... and I was pretty pleased with the attention if I absolutely must admit that.

Then, of course, it was hot today... so you know what that means. I drove us to school and we were to bring Josie home with us. She and Jessy were making up cute little dares all the way home for when we got there-- like, 'I dare you to jump in backwards.' --or, 'I dare you to jump in with your clothes on.' --till finally I said, 'I'll race you both to the pool.'

Jessy giggled. 'Oo, don't dare me to beat you, because I'll get in like this.'

Josie teased her. 'Surrrrre you will!'

At the house I got out of the car and then took my time, since I had to lock up the car, get my school stuff, and prancing up to the front door, and both of them were impatient. But it was only to make sure we all started at the same time, you know. 'Last one into the pool is a slug,' I said, and suddenly we had dropt all our stuff on the floor and were desperately peeling off clothes on the way out to the French windows.

I was actually able to leave the dress draped carefully over a chair and kicked off the shoes before Jessy got out of her jeans. So I wasn't last! Josie was first, dashing straight into the pool and landing mid-stride in the water. We laughed ourselves silly-- she looked like a cartoon scene. Jessy was struggling with the back of her bra when I dove in, leaving my arms and legs a little too wide apart just to savour the sensation of immersing myself so immediately. That pool felt great.

Of course being so close to the ocean (yes, about 40 yards from the back-bay channel) our pool is always a little brackish. Daddy says you just have to give up on this one. A little saline doesn't hurt anything and in fact he backs off a little on the chlorine unless it's really hot and sunny, when the salt content attracts bacteria. Today it was just about right-- and we would not have complained anyway.

Mother and J.J. got home with Lisa, who came out straight away. 'How did I know you guys would be in there!' she teased, standing beside the pool and stripping off. We all giggled at her-- she loves being the centre of attention, especially our attention. In some ways she is like an honourary teenager!

Then Mother came out with J.J. and put him in his water-wings. Last summer Jessy and I taught Lisa to swim the length of the 12-1/2-metre pool and now, 6 years old, she will do laps on her own. J.J. is 3 and of course less reliable in the water, but we were all happy to push him round in the inflatable thing. He had a good time and did not complain that all three of his sisters, and their friend, were all naked. Of course he never is-- he thinks it's for girls only, which, for now, is fine with us.

Mother lay on a chaise in her shorts and sleeveless top and read in Angela's Ashes, which was one of Jessy's summer-reading selections. As part of our rowdy games in the pool we all got out at one time or another and I ended up lying on a cushion on the terrace for what may have been up to half an hour straight. We all played with Lisa and J.J. till well after tea, when Jessy and Josie went up to her room, to FaceBook to their hearts' content, no doubt. As of right now they are lying on their stomachs and elbows side-by-side on Jessy's bed with two laptops in front of them and the fingers clicking away... almost as fast as mine are right now.

I wish it could always be like this... but a front is expected this week and then we will have autumn. [sigh]

...

First day of school (again)

Wednesday, 9 September 2009

I got up early and put on the skirt I bought in Chelsea, which is a mottled grey, almost like moleskin, kind of short, really nice-- and it was marked down. I wore that with plain white tights (it was chilly) and a dark-green sleeveless top and a white shirt on like a cover-up (meaning not closed). Roger would drive us in together in the Cadillac.

Of course at the school there were oodles of people milling round the place, all catching up on what happened in the summer and son on. Josie was there and hurried up to us as we arrived. Her mother had driven her in (she doesn't have a car yet). She had asked us to pick her up, but of course that was not feasible since she lives on the other side of the high school from us, you know. So as we stepped out of the car and thanked Roger for holding the door we already had a sort of audience.

I am sure the new freshmen were the ones who stared at us. They do not know us yet. I hope they will make the effort-- we surely will try to befriend them too. The girls' club will need a couple of new members when Becky and I graduate! Josie fawned over the skirt (she's seen it before) and Jessy's whole ensemble, a cute dress in dark gold and navy with navy tights and her gold (so they look) shoes. The one good thing about the first day is that no one will be dressing for PE, so it's all right to get a little fancied up, you know. I mean-- Jessy and I had both done our this morning.

We walked in to the building with Josie, and then Paula and Rita, and then Becky, so we were like a posse. These cliques are something I always hated-- till I found myself in one! But, as I have said before, if we are a clique at least we try to be a happy and well-dressed one, you know-- and we do make friends. It's part of the club code.

My schedule this year is terrible and I have already decided to see guidance about changing it. First of all, I do not need physics-- I had enough science at HOH and the counsellor here did not consider that when she wrote my schedule. Second, I am stuck with the dreaded 6th-period lunch, normally the rowdiest period to have it because it is most common. 4th and 7th are nearly empty and my sister and most of our friends are in 5th again. So I will ask to drop physics and take something-- anything-- that's 6th period so she will change my lunch. Then, if I hate it, I will adopt a 6th-period study hall and keep the 5th-period lunch... because they won't let me change my lunch just to be with people I prefer.

I have British literature 1st, PE 2nd, art 3rd (which I suppose is lucky since I can arrive at less than my best, even a little late if needs be, and have all of 3rd to clean up for the day, you know), calculus 4th, choir 7th and European history 8th. In both European history and British lit I am signed up for AP. Daddy calls this 'appropriate cheating' --since I have had both these courses at high-school level before, because of where I went during 9th and 10th grade. This school did not want me to stick me into 10th-grade English just for the sake of having world lit, especially when my schedule also called for European history, which satisfies the core requirement for a 'multicultural' class. So knowing this material at least adequately will put me in a good place to have the AP test in May. I am actually looking forward to it already.

Speaking of college credit I am probably going to Delaware. I contacted them last week and indicated my preference, which puts me in the candidate queue, and they have already conditionally accepted me. I will see how my SAT scores from October 10th help me and then make my final decision in time for the typical November cutoffs.

At lunch we all sat at the same table we had last year. This is pretty typical here. A few people came round and asked, 'How does it feel to be a senior?' I never know how to answer that and really didn't say anything to it at all. Some people asked me why I sat with 'all the juniors'. But these are my friends as well as my sister's. This year we have Becky, me, Rita, Josie, Jessy and Paula all in 5th-period lunch again. Two other girls who are seniors have already enquired about joining the club. We will let them in, of course, but they will not be what we have been called 'growth members' because they'll get stuck with seniors' disease after about February and be of little help. I have pledged to keep the club a priority and Becky has too, but though we will not turn down eligible members we are not counting on recruiting seniors. The weight of the club's future success rests with Jessy and her classmates and the ones who are younger.

After school we all went in to Onancock and met for ice cream. It was a pleasant outing-- most of us were nicely dressed. Roger took us, with Rita and Josie, in the big car. The other girls of the club were there too. Whilst we sat there under the umbrella some guys walked by, saw the car sitting at the kerb, and sort of ogled us. I suppose this is to be expected. I was happy with the skirt and got plenty of nice comments on it all day.

The other girls are sort of jealous of our friendship with Lady B. Jessy and I had been reporting on our summer and had mentioned her. 'Do you mean she is a real lady?' Becky asked. 'Like, "her ladyship" and all that?'

I smiled at that. 'Yes, she married a baron. Although she was "the honourable" before that.'

'What's that?' Becky asked.

'It's another title. Her father was a baron too.'

'Ohhh. How do you get to meet someone like that?'

'She's an old friend of Daddy's,' I told her. 'She invested in a project of his a long time ago.'

They were impressed by this. But really to Jessy and me she is just a friend, almost like a fairy godmother really, for she has no children of her own and sort of dotes on us whenever we are over there. The girls at HOH were impressed when she drew up in her Roller (yes, a real Roller) and met us at school one afternoon. As wealthy as some of those girls are, not all of their parents have drivers for their Rollers, you know. But Lady B never makes an issue of any of that.

'She approved of this skirt,' I said. 'She's very hip, like that.' And she is.

When we finally got home it was nearly 5.00. Jessy got undressed and flopped onto her bed with the laptop to fill in her FaceBook blog and iChat with people. I dove into the pool and did my (belated) 25 laps. Then-- as you would know it-- I started on my homework.

Calculus. I've got to hate it.

...

Rambles in the heat

Friday, 4 September

It has got hot again. I am lying here on the sofa down stairs at the beach house in New Jersey, hammering away at the trusty old iBook, and I have no clothes on. Jessy, Josie and I got here early this afternoon, after our Ferry ride and after checking on the house, and we were able to avoid the worst of the traffic. The guy on the local radio station said the Causeway was jammed about 11 miles. [sigh] Thank God for not having school yet; else would never have got here in time for our shift at the shop.

We put Josie in one of Jessy's outfits, the cute dark-green paisley bodice with stays and a pretty pale-grey skirt. Dottie put her to work in the verandah (the screened porch that goes round three sides of the place). She had never worked as a waitress before and made $18 in tips tonight. The place was really pumping all evening. We walked down the street in our Colonial outfits and by then it was beastly hot. Those two are up stairs... looking over their FaceBooks I am sure. Josie tends to devote a lot of time to Twitter. I don't see the point and have never done more than glance at it. I have updated my FaceBook with the best pics from our 'underwear glamour show' last weekend and that's enough for me, for now.

Yesterday we three had a delightful day, driving up to Chincoteague in the morning and spending most of the day on the beach there. We all wore swimsuits under shorts and shirts and were able to go out to supper later. All of us went in the water-- it was lovely. We lay on towels near a very nice family and ended up playing with some of the children. There were 4-year-old twin girls and two boys. We made a sandcastle and talked with the mother, who is a Christian from Maryland, a little north of the beach road. They have a vegetable farm and a stand on the road, and they have raised sheepdogs... so I told them about Stephen who has worked at the animal rescue shelter and is now going to UMES. Later some boys our age happened by and struck up a conversation. Jessy and Josie soaked up-- as you may well imagine-- and I just sat and talked with the mother next to us, till the guys had got their eyefuls of Jessy and Josie in bikinis and wandered off. Then the mother said to me, 'Am I keeping you from anything more social?'

I just laughed. 'No. Believe me. I'm fine.'

'Your sister seems to be interested,' she said.

'I'm sure she is.'

'You're not? Pretty girl like you?'

I shrugged, still kneeling in the sand, moulding the sandcastle with both hands for the boys. 'There are two of them. Let them have their fun.'

She laughed. 'All right,' she said.

Later I got up and wandered down to the water by myself. There was a whole row of people standing with ankles in the water, older and younger, and dozens of squealing happy children darting round us all. I stood with my arms folded over my tummy and watched them all or stared out at the horizon. Soon a guy came up and stood beside me. I don't think he was there just because of me-- it was just coincidence that he found that place clear enough to stand and take the shorebreak as it rolled in. He was older than me, maybe 25 or so. You know how it is-- you get the sensation people are looking at you before you actually know for sure that they are. I would think it was conceited of me to assume that, except that it's so often true.

'Hello,' he said to me, his eyes going down where any guy's would have, and then he looked me face-to-face. 'How are you doing, there?'

I shrugged and looked out at the ocean. 'I'm fine,' I said.

One of the little boys from beside our towels ran by and smiled up at me. I waved. 'That's cute,' the man said. 'I mean that he waved at you.'

'Oh,' I said. 'Well, I was just playing with him earlier.'

'Oh,' he said. He hadn't expected that. They never do, you know. Most men want to assume you are wholly unconnected to anyone else. I suppose it makes it easier for them. 'So,' he said, 'last weekend of vacation before classes start?'

I nodded. 'Something like that.'

'I'm from DC,' he told me.

I looked him over then-- clean-cut, short hair, decent shape, dull-looking khaki shorts that were too long, mild tan. Obviously a white-collar type from the city. I nodded then. 'Oh,' I said.

'And where are you from?'

I shrugged again. 'A little south of here,' I said.

'Oh.... Local, huh? I bet this is a nice place to be from.'

'I guess.' I turned then and looked back at Josie and Jessy who were flat on their backs and had not noticed this guy trying to chat me up. I wondered what he would do when he found out how old I was. Then I wondered if he suspected I were safely over 18 or if he would prefer I were not. Then I decided I didn't care to know that much about him, because this wasn't going anywhere other than a friendly chat on the beach.

The man allowed me to stand there on my own for a bit and then turned right to me and asked, 'So, what's your name?'

I shivered a little. Now he was asking for personal information. 'Um,' I said, and then glanced back at the other two. 'Excuse me, please.' And I turned to go back.

'No need to be afraid,' he said, with that patronising look they all get when they like to assume they are in control and you are being 'typically feminine' and feeling intimidated by a man who 'knows what he wants'.

I looked right at him then, still with my arms folded over my tummy. 'I'm not afraid of anything,' I said.

He smirked now at me. 'Then stay here and tell me your name.'

I nodded. 'Please excuse me now.' And I turned to go.

'No excuse for being rude,' he said after me. And I would ignore that.

After I had take a place on the blanket beside Jessy I told them both about him. Sure enough, the both sat up to look. He paid us no mind at all-- then, but later we saw him strolling the beach and he happened to look up our way at us. I saw that smirk again-- but I'm pretty sure he recognised that Jessy and Josie looked younger than I am and that probably made him realise we were all a little too young for him to be expecting tit for tat... or whatever he'd want to call it.

The first rule of being a gentleman is to never importune a lady. Never make her feel uncomfortable, never demand information or favours from her, never treat her like she owes you anything, never do anything that you believe she has to repay. Any man who can't be polite to a lady just for the sake of being polite, period, is no gentleman.

The man on the beach ought to have known I knew more about his age than he assumed about mine, and that I had already decided it was an ineligible match. Sure, I go to the beach to meet nice guys. I usually don't care if they are a little older than I am. I sort of expect it. And yes, it is sometimes flattering. But I don't care for being expected to give out information. And I always find it more charming when the lady introduces herself first. Then she has the choice of offering her hand-- a gentleman should never offer his hand to a lady first, because it's a form of requiring her to do something, in this case to take it. And when I first said 'excuse me' he should have realised he had just required something from me and said, 'I'm sorry'. But, instead, he behaved as most men do and defended his choice to be impertinent. He didn't care about my feelings or anything about me. He only cared about what he wanted-- which may have been just a friendly kind of chat on the beach with a girl in a bikini. But because he didn't care about me at all, he didn't get that.

I e-mailed one of my friends from HOH about it last night and she came back this afternoon telling me I did well. I had been afraid I was only being characteristically snobby and stuck-up, and she was like, 'What did he want? Where did he come from? Why did he chat up you? How long was he looking at you before?' And I got the impression from what she made me think about and how the so-called conversation had gone that he probably had chosen me to stop beside and speak to. That's a little creepy. And so I am glad I went back to the others and ended an already-awkward exchange.

We went back to the car without getting dressed and stopped at McDonald's for drive-through. By then those two had shimmied into their shorts at least-- I had not because I was driving. The guy in the drive-through window looked straight down at me. I didn't mind-- I am sure he sees girls in swimsuits all the time. So it was only at the Dollar General that I pulled on the shorts to get out of the car.

I am grateful for Josie because she shares our sense of self-respect and modesty. I know she likes to flirt a little-- she is, of course, a Gemini!! --but she is a very decent sort of girl and no one can fault her too much for appreciating a certain level of attention. With Jessy and me she is always a perfect lady.

Today we drove up Rt 13 in our swimsuits in the car, and when we got on the Ferry we went up to the top deck and sat out in the sun. People laughed-- but we were hardly the first people do to such a thing. Mother admitted she had done it when she was my age here too. A couple of people stared at us like we were nuts-- but really the day was perfect for it, and who could blame us? When we got to the house we had time to stroll the beach a bit before returning to dress in the Colonial outfits for the shop. Josie was actually embarrassed when Jessy and I told her we don't wear anything under the skirts. 'Really?'

We both laughed. 'Josie,' I said, 'you mean you never heard that?' I was naked and pulling on the shift then. 'Panties aren't old-fashioned, love.'

And we helped her get dressed, lacing up the bodice and the top of the shift and so on. Suddenly she was excited. And as we walked up the street to the shop people waved and hooted horns at us, as we do, and she finally leaned over and whispered, 'I feel so hot.'

'Hot?' I teased. 'I would have thought it'd been cooler than you're used to.'

But then she surprised me. 'After half a summer with you two? No, I'm very comfortable without, Janine.' And we all laughed.

Now it is very late and this laptop in my lap is making me feel feverish from its own heat. I shall go now. More later--

...

Role modelling

Sunday, 30 Auguast 2009

Josie is still staying with us-- her mother rang today and said she was expected home tomorrow, just to 'touch base'. We laughed at this. The dear girl has been a part of our household in everything (except maybe one or two points) since July or so. She even has her own toothbrush in our common bathroom.

After church today the three of us drove out and had ice cream, met with some of the girls from the club, and sort of congregated over at the high school for a kind of 'let's see how the old place is preparing for us' visit. There were some boys there attempting to play soccer-- I say 'attempting' because there wasn't enough dribbling or volleying to make it even remotely interesting. I was in a skirt so when some of the girls wanted to join in I just sat on the bleacher seats and watched.

Josie was in a skirt too (Jessy's gold-coloured one, which she wore to church with us) and we got to talk a little. At one point she turned to me and said, straight out of the blue, 'I know you don't always trust me, Janine.'

I looked at her. 'Josie, when have I ever not trusted you?'

She shook her head. 'You don't have to say that. I know you worry.'

'I will always worry,' I said.

'About me and your little sister?'

I looked at her. 'I love you,' I told her, 'and I love my little sister. I will always worry about both of you.'

She looked at me for a long moment and then lowered her eyes, and I could see she was blushing. 'Well-- maybe "worry" is the wrong word then. But I just thought I should ask you something.'

'Sure, hun,' I said. 'What is it?'

She drew a breath and said, 'Do you really think it's all right, what we all do together?'

I smiled at her. 'Playing in stockings? Swimming naked? Hiking the great outdoors? What's so terrible about it?'

'Well, you know. Jessy and I... sleeping together.'

I nodded. 'Hm. Is there anything I should worry about then?'

She shook her head. 'No. It's just that--' She looked about herself as though she couldn't find the right thing to say, and then she just said, 'Well. I mean-- well....'

'Josie,' I said, 'sweetheart... if there's anything you want to say, I promise you can just say it.'

So she did. 'Do you think it's weird that sometimes I feel attracted to your sister?'

I didn't even flinch. This was what I'd expected. 'Josie, sometimes I feel attracted to her too.'

She looked up at me. 'Really?'

'Sure,' I said. 'She's a cute girl, very sweet, intelligent, beautiful, everything good. Anyone would be a fool who wasn't at least a little bit crazy about her.'

Josie smiled then, and let out a sigh. 'Well.... I guess maybe I'm not so crazy then.'

'You do mean, don't you, that this isn't anything more than just feeling like you love her to death, riught?'

Josie nodded. 'Yes. I mean-- I think so. Sometimes I lie in the bed and watch her sleep. She's so beautiful.... And it gives me goosepimples.'

I nodded. 'And at other times?'

'Other times.... Well, I thank God she is my friend. I would hate to not be able to know her.'

I smiled. On the bench I saw her hand and took it. 'You are a good friend,' I said softly to her, 'and I know Jessy loves you very much. And she trusts you. And I trust you. This is what the girls' club is about, you know. We need to be good for each other.'

She nodded, staring down at where I held her hand. 'I know. And I'm sorry.'

'Don't apologise, sweetie--'

'But I should. I've had... impure thoughts.' Then she looked at me and smiled. 'That is what you would call it, right?'

Still holding her hand I looked her in the eye and said, 'Does this have anything to do with yesterday when I sort of walked in on you?'

Josie went very red and looked away then. 'Um, maybe. I don't know. I guess, a little. I mean--' now she went even redder-- 'I was wearing her panties. It's just so embarrassing--'

'It's all right,' I said. 'I get like that sometimes too. But I don't think it has anything to do with Jessy, or what I'm wearing. Sometimes I just....'

'Yes,' Josie said, and we looked at each other. 'Sometimes you just have to.'

'Sure. But do you confuse that with whom you're with? Other people nearby, or--?'

'I don't think so,' she said.' Then she smiled. 'Janine, you are so lucky to have her for a sister. And Lisa too. I will never know that. You're just so comfortable round other people. I'm not-- I know that. I just wish I were.'

'You're comfortable round me, right?'

She nodded a lot. 'Oh, yes. I feel like-- well, like I could tell you anything. Like you're the big sister-- Oh, that's not right.'

'It is,' I said, and squeezed her hand. 'If that's what you mean... I think it's lovely. And I'm happy to be your big sister.'

She stared at me for a very long moment and then suddenly reached up with both arms and hugged me. 'I love you, Janine. You may never know how much, but I do.'

'I love you too, Josie.'

She patted my back and hung onto me till her tears dried.

This evening, I was helping Mother clean up after dinner and I told her the gist of what Josie had said. 'I think she just feels like she needs to belong to someone, and she identifies with Jessy like that,' I said.

Mother nodded seriously. 'I was afraid of something like this,' she said.

'I don't think it means anything, Mother. I mean-- we're always together. If anything inappropriate were going to happen, it probably already would have happened.'

'Not necessarily,' she said.

I looked at her then. 'Do you want me to tell Jessy they shouldn't stay in the same room?'

Mother thought about that, not looking at me. Finally she said, 'I don't know. Maybe. I just think that your sister isn't ready for a decision like that, and if anything were to happen, she wouldn't be doing it out of a free choice.'

I nodded, thinking hard about that. Mother and I both know Jessy is very naive-- but it's the naievete that comes from pure innocence. Then I asked, 'Do you really think Jessy would?'

Mother looked right at me. 'What do you think?'

'I think she wouldn't dream of it. But-- that could end up hurting Josie, and I wouildn't want that.'

Mother smiled at me. 'Janine, you are too good sometimes.'

'Well I can't very well suggest doing anything that would hurt Josie's feelings. I'd rather trust her than tell her I don't trust her.'

Mother was still smiling. 'You do sound like me sometimes,' she said.

I shook my head. 'Josie isn't a lesbian, mother. She's lonely, and she needs a friend like a sister. A sister helps you stay in line, guides you, protects you, scolds you, you know, like Jessy and I do for each other. And she's only... exploring herself, the same way any girl would do. That's nothing terrible. I mean-- with the girls' club and all, we're all looking out for each other, so we'd trust each other with ourselves.'

'Do you think the other girls would tell you anything like this if they thought they were feeling it?'

'I don't know, Mother. I knew Josie would. I think Rita would. I think Becky would. Well, Becky did-- she told me she values me as a friend, loves me, trusts me implicitly. I hugged her in front of people and kissed her head. She said that was a very high compliment. She's not... in love with me.'

'Do you think Josie is in love with Jessy?'

'Oh, everyone is,' I said. Mother laughed. 'I mean-- everyone in school is a little in love with her. She's the princess, Mother. And sometimes people's feelings get... confused, on an issue like that. What did Daddy say? --there are three levels of admiration. You want to be like her, you want to be her, you want to possess her. It happens-- it's normal.'

'But you have never felt that way about someone else.'

I looked right at her. 'I haven't?'

My pretty stepmother stared right back at me. 'Well... have you?'

'Mother,' I said softly, 'you don't think I have?'

She went a little red then and looked down. 'Oh, Janine! Please!' And she laughed, to rid herself of the blush.

'You're my hero,' I told her. 'You're my role model, and my idol. You didn't know that?'

'I am not anyone for you to admire like that!' she insisted, and reached for a tissue.

'I have always loved you,' I said. 'From when I first met you, when you first came to live with us. And sometimes I didn't know what kind of love it was. I wanted to be just like you, I wanted to be so perfectly you that I became you. I wanted to live your life. I wanted you to never care about anyone but me. But I realised that it can't be like that. The reason I love you is because you love everyone, me and everyone else, so much and so well. So the most I can ever do is to take your example and try to do the things you would like to see me do.'

Mother blotted her eyes. For a moment she had nothing to say and I refused to go any further. Finally she said, 'You are much more like me than you know.'

I swallowed. 'If you really mean that, Mother--'

'I do mean it.'

'Then that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me.'

She turned then and hugged me-- hard. 'Be a good angel,' she said into my ear. 'Be good to little J.J. and Lisa and to Jessy and to Josie. Be good to them, and you will be doing what I would want you to do.'

I nodded. 'Okay, Mother.'

'I adore you, sweet girl. I always have. Do not beat yourself up over anything like this.'

'Jessy will make the right decision,' I said.

'Yes. Jessy will make the right decision. And so will Josie, because she has your example, and Jessy's example. She adores you girls.'

'I know she does.'

'You must show her the right way to demonstrate that love,' she said to me.

I nodded again. 'I know. That's what the girls' club is for.'

She stepped back and looked at me, the mascara running down her cheeks and her eyes puffy and red. But the thing about Mother is that she never stands on pride. She doesn't care what she looks like as much as she cares about you. If it's appropriate to look at you, she will, and she won't hide that she's been weeping. 'The girls' club is for all of you,' she said. 'Not just girls looking up to you, Janine, by yourself. Being president of a club doesn't mean you have to carry them all. If you're worried about Josie, ask Josie. She a woman growing up and she needs to be able to explain herself, and, if she's been wrong, she needs to change. Not you. Not you, Janine-- whatever have you done that's so wrong?'

'I've done lots of wrong things.'

'Mistakes,' she said. 'Not bad judgement. Josie comes to you because she knows you won't judge her, you'll listen to her, and she'll gain something from asking you about it. If she wanted to do anything terrible she wouldn't have told you.'

I nodded. 'I know.'

'She needs your example. Do the right thing, and she will see it and do it too.'

I smiled then. 'As in "Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify the Father which is in Heaven".'

Mother laughed a little and wiped her eyes then. 'Exactly, Janine. Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.'

We smiled at each other. 'Okay,' I said quietly, and she kissed me and I went off, half moping with my arms folded over my tummy. I really did not feel as enthusiastic at all about it. I felt charged with a responsibility-- not to bear them all on my shoulders but to do something even harder-- to be perfect, as the Father is perfect, to do what is right in the face of every tendency I have to be lazy or selfish or arrogant about it. Josie needs my good example-- and I will show it to her.

In Jessy's room the two of them were lying close together on the floor looking into magazines. They were both naked-- no, Josie was in panties. 'What's up?' I asked them.

Josie looked up first. 'Hi, Janine.' And she smiled right at me. 'We're just... reading.'

I smiled and sat on the floor-- in the skirt-- and crossed my legs. 'Everything okay?' Jessy asked me then. 'You look... down.'

'Preoccupied,' I said, and smiled at her.

Josie smiled at me again. 'Are you chaperoning?' she asked me.

I nodded. 'Yes, Josie. That's exactly what I'm doing. Keeping you out of trouble.' Then I laughed.

Josie laughed too. 'Don't worry, doll,' she said to me. 'Nothing bad will happen here.'

We met eyes. Suddenly I was aware that whilst I had been talking with Mother these two had been talking up here. And it was already resolved. 'From now on,' Jessy said, not looking up but in fact still leafing through the magazine in front of herself, 'we have a new rule where we wear panties to bed.'

I giggled. 'Really? Why?'

'Because,' Josie said, 'as a very wise girl we know once pointed out, we are ladies, and we should be a little more proper. It's only for bed, you know. And, look-- we get to model cute things.' And she got up to her knees beside Jessy and wriggled her hips a little, showing off the panties. They're Jessy's of course-- she brought no extra clothes with her on Thursday night-- but very cute, pale pink cotton with little purple flowers round the front. 'Like them?'

I laughed. 'I've seen them before,' I said.

'Well, I'm wearing them to bed.'

I looked at Jessy's bare bottom. 'And what's the other one wearing to bed?'

'She'll get dressed,' Josie said, looking down at her. 'We promised each other. And we made another promise to each other, didn't we, sweetheart?' Jessy only shrugged. 'Yes,' Josie said. 'If we feel the need... we can go in the bathroom. The bed is off-limits if we're both in it.'

I giggled again. 'That works,' I said. 'But really, you don't have to--'

'No, Janine. Maybe we do have to. Or, I do. Anyway, it'll make us all feel more comfortable.' Then she smiled at me. 'Are you coming to bed soon?'

I shrugged. 'I'll go online first.'

Josie nodded. 'I'll read a little, I think.'

'Will you? What are you reading?'

She turned and lifted a book off the bedside table. '"Mansfield Park",' she said. 'Saw the movie. Need to read the book, right?'

I was impressed and smiled at her. 'Good girl.'

'Yes,' said Josie. 'That's me.'

...

The modelling show, and other stuff

Saturday, 29 August 2009

I was saying to someone once how I love waking up naked. There really is nothing more refreshing. I kick off the sheet and prop myself up on my elbows and blink in the sunlight streaming in my windows here, and I feel new and pure and clean and happy. I thrust my feet way up and eject myself from the bed with all my morning energy, and I fling open the sash and the drapery and stand there, staring out at the sun over the bay and the ocean, at three thousand miles of natural view. Sometimes I imagine the people in Portugal are staring out across the ocean during their afternoon tea and wondering if there is some naked blonde girl at the other shore staring back. If they're not, there is no one else out there to see me like this, and so I rarely ever close my draperies at all.

Josie and Jessy slept like a litter of kittens in the other room, both of them curled round almost together under one sheet, hair loose and all over, tanned shoulders dark against the off-white bedclothes, Josie breathing gently over Jessy's head, sweet baby smiles on their faces. I woke them gently, poking their shoulders till they were both stirring. 'Pancakes,' I said softly. 'It's Saturday.'

So they got up.

Whilst the pancakes seethed on the cooker I sauntered out back and dove in. I was into the 18th lap when Mother came out, but she only watched me continue till I had done all 25. 'Are those other birds coming down?' she asked me in a gentle voice, almost too soft for outdoors.

I nodded. 'They said they would be.'

She nodded too and then stepped back as I rose, dripping with no towel, from the water. She smiled at me then. 'You've missed this pool,' she said.

'I did laps twice yesterday,' I told her.

'Did you? As though you need it!' And she laughed.

'I do need it,' I said.

'You don't,' she told me, 'not for your looks anyway. But the exercise never hurts.'

I went up to get dressed in the same shorts and t-shirt from last night, passing Jessy and Josie, now dressed too, coming down on the way.

Daddy excused himself early, having caught up with Roger, and drove up to Delaware at about 9.30. Mother announced she was taking J.J. down to the mall at Lynnhaven, 60 miles way, meeting some local friends (other mothers and kids from church) to make a day of it. So we girls would be alone.

'Well I know what you girls will be doing today,' Mother told us. 'Just remember your father will be home about five.'

This was for Josie, you know. 'We will,' Jessy said.

'And be good to Lisa. She looks up to you girls. You have to be the best you can be for her.'

I just met Mother's eyes. 'I promise we will be,' I said.

She nodded and took J.J.'s hand to go down to the car.

I followed her, my arms folded across my tummy, and gave her a hug and a kiss when she left. 'I love you, Mother,' I told her.

'And I love you, good girl. Have fun.'

I smiled. 'I'm sure we will.'

'And you'll stay in?'

'In, and round the house, yes. Do not worry.'

I waved as she drove off. J.J. waved back.

So it was another day essentially on our own. Jessy and Josie came down, both naked, and dove into the pool. Lisa asked me if I would join them and then ran, really ran, out across the terrace and cannonballed into the centre of the pool. Like her mother she is a born swimmer and absolutely indefatigable in the water.

But soon even this got somewhat dull and we were at a loss for something interesting to do. 'We should do something we never get to do any other time,' Jessy said.

'Like what?' Josie asked eagerly.

Jessy shrugged, avoiding spending mental energy. We brainstormed a few ideas and finally decided to have a little photo shoot, dressing up in whatever we found that was cute, and modelling for each other and for a camera. 'What will we wear?' I asked.

'Something we can't usually wear,' Josie said. 'Something that's....'

'Nothing obscene,' Jessy said.

I made a face. 'Since when are we ever obscene?'

Josie laughed. 'We're not,' she said. 'It'll just be cute.'

So we decided we would all get dressed in panties and high heels, and then Josie suggested, when she had looked into Jessy's dresser, that we wear stockings too. Lisa, thrilled with the chance to do as the big girls do, scampered round to her room and proceeded to change outfits about every ten minutes till her bed was a heap of panties she had tried or rejected, her church tights, ballet tights, and cotton stockings from her Colonial outfits. Honestly she must have worn eight or ten pairs of panties, all the same but for colour or pattern, those simple cotton ones that she pulls up too high on her bottom and too tightly in her crutch. She was so enthusiastic for it that we began teasing her about being an underwear model. But really the pics of her are nothing terrible-- just pics of a nice little girl in her panties. In what way is that obscene?

I went in to my room and pawed through my dressers till I decided on something cute. The stockings are mostly cotton, thigh-high with gripper tops, in a pretty dense tone-on-tone textured pattern of roses and leaves. My shoes were my good ones for church, white cotton eyelet uppers with an open toe and about 2-1/2" heels. My hair was put up with a thick white terry Scünci. And my panties were just plain white cottons, some low-rise ones that are just about new and still very bright. I stepped out of my room feeling absolutely lovely, all in white, like an angel, sexy and pure at the same time, which is a pretty good look for any girl. Jessy and Josie, still getting dressed, raved over it. In front of Jessy's full-height mirror I turned and posed, admiring myself, and was quite pleased with how I looked.

Then little Lisa came in, in her plain black ballet leotard, pink shoes with no tights, and a little bright-pink scarf cleverly wrapt round her middle. 'Oh, all white,' she said to me. 'Is that all you have?'

I turned on my toes and smiled down at her. 'Don't you like it?'

Lisa shrugged. 'The stockings are pretty,' she said.

'They are, aren't they?' And I smiled at myself again.

Lisa stepped a little closer and when I turned she was right in front of me. 'What's that?' she asked.

We all looked. I looked down ahd she was pointing, her finger not six inches from the front of my panties. 'Uh-oh,' Jessy said. 'Is it a spot?'

No. The panties were clean. It's just that they were also very thin, and there it was, a dark shadow showing through the white cotton. 'It's just me, sweetie,' I said to Lisa.

'You?' she wondered.

I lifted the cotton away from my tummy and she peered in, seeing what I meant. 'It's just what I have,' she said.

'Oh,' said Lisa. Of course she knows what I look like. I'm sure she only didn't realise I would show through like that. I hadn't thought of it either. Really I hadn't wanted to think that there could be any way I could outgrow white cotton panties-- they're always my favourite.

'Well,' Josie said, 'while we're all getting made-up.... You know you wouldn't have to worry about it showing, if....'

'If what?' I asked, too innocently I guess.

Josie smiled at me and then shrugged. 'If you got rid of it,' she said.

I wrinkled my nose then. 'Ew. No way.'

'Why not? It would look better. And you wouldn't have to worry about certain bathing-suits....'

'I don't wear anything that what I do have would be a problem,' I told her.

Josie shrugged again. 'Well, it might make you feel or look sexier,' she said.

I met eyes with Jessy, who only rolled hers. Then I said, 'I would say that takes a very particular kind of vanity, wouldn't you?'

Jessy giggled. Josie looked at her, not knowing what I had meant or why Jessy had laughed, and Jessy said, 'Why would anyone do that? So they can admire how they look themselves or show off to other people?'

Josie got red then, now realising how it sounded. 'Oh,' she said. 'Well, I just thought....'

'Remind me not to let her take any pictures of herself naked now,' I said to Jessy, and we both laughed till Josie got over it.

Lisa trotted back into the room, now in her own white panties, the pink scarf round her middle, and the ballet shoes. Josie reached out and tickled her, which Lisa likes. 'This one doesn't have the problem at all, lucky little thing!' Josie said.

'What problem?' Lisa wanted to know.

'Never mind,' I said.

'Is it lady stuff?' she asked.

I smiled at her. 'Kind of.'

'Okay, never mind,' she said-- for she's sure she's heard it all enough before.

'So change,' Jessy said to me then, and then shrugged, like to encourage me.

I shrugged too and went back to my room, a little disappointed. But I found some lacy ones in my drawer, also white and mostly cotton, but with elegant lace appliqués that sort of complement the stockings. Lisa stood and watched as I peeled the other ones off over my shoes and pulled up the lacy ones. 'Those I like better,' she said.

'Can you still see--?'

Lisa actually bent and examined me. 'No.'

I patted her head and pranced back round to Jessy's room then. Jessy had on her navy-blue stockings and shoes and cute panties with yellow-and-white flowers on the blue cotton. Josie had found Jessy's old bright fuscia stockings (from a Hallowe'en costume party-- don't ask) and a pair of bright pink panties almost the same tone. They were debating what shoes she would wear with that ensemble. I suggested plain black. Of course Josie and Jessy wear the same sizes (in all but bras) but at least Jessy has got so many clothes and shoes, including panties and lingerie, that it's not likely the two of them together could ever run out of combinations they both could wear.

Josie supervised everyone's makeup-- she's the best one at that. The plan was that we would all have something showy done for the camera but neutral enough that it could go with any other outfits (okay, panties and stockings). I wasn't exactly thrilled with how she made me look but I have to admit that I turned out all right in the pictures.

Grabbing a few other things to change into we all went down the side stairs to the basement. There we hung up a plain white bedsheet against one wall and set up the camera on a tripod and a few lights with the shades cocked to illuminate us. Of course Jessy and I have done this before and by now it's a pretty reliable system. Mostly the pics were taken of one girl at a time-- we would set up, say, Jessy, let her pose as much as she wanted, and shoot about 35 frames. Then whilst she changed her outfit we'd do someone else.

Jessy looks like an angel in her shots. She always does. In some she let her hair down, in others it was pinned up-- the difference was so extraordinary that she looked like two different girls sometimes. I look like... me. Really it's all right... I just didn't really surprise myself. I guess I am not fond of having my pic taken. But I have to admit the makeup made me look great. Josie pouted, rolled her tongue behind her teeth, stuck out her chest and rocked her up bottom, doing all the carefully-exaggerated manoeuvres that exotic models do in those pictures we've all seen on the Web. In one she had her legs spread apart, which didn't really flatter her in any modest way, you know. (I wanted to delete that one but she made me keep it.) It's really kind of scary that she knows how to do things like that-- but she is an only child and has lots of time alone in her room in the evenings, I guess.

The surprising one was Lisa, of course-- she has a very practised smile and a very good idea of how to pose herself. She's no JonBenet-- she's only a normal 6-year-old girl-- but she's very pretty and is very comfortable in front of the camera. She was the one who came up with the idea of lying down on the piano bench like a classical odalisque, which we all did later. She really ought to make a great model or actor some day.

We hooked up Jessy's laptop to the camera so we could review the pics straight away. Some were bad. Most were pretty good. I saved about 40 of mine.

Lisa came down once in her bandanna bikini, the one Jessy and I made for her (only the bottom half of course) and Jessy was shooting her a while. That made some pretty cute shots-- and she becomes the first of us to formally model the bandanna bikini--mainly because, being 6, she can get away with wearing only a bottom piece, you know. I contributed some ideas but got too many ideas for myself and bolted back up stairs to change. On my way by Jessy's open door I happened to peer in.

Josie was sitting up against the pillows and headboard of Jessy's bed, the heels sort of digging into the covers, her knees up and her hand occupied in the bright-pink panties. At first she did not see me. But when she did she could hardly have stopped anyway. 'Oh!' she sighed, going on even faster. 'I'm sorry! I just--'

I only smiled. 'It's okay,' I said, and stepped back to pull the door closed.

'Oh! Thank you!' And she put back her head then and dug in.

I stepped into my room feeling myself blush. Of course Jessy and I have seen each other self-engaged before. I had never seen Josie, though, but it was hardly anything worse than whatever I could have expected. Of course she was aroused by this. I was myself, a little. (Some of the pics showed it.) I only giggled and then I couldn't even think about getting changed and just went back down as I was, all in white. I think I was really just hoping to divert Lisa from going into Jessy's room till Josie was done

Jessy went up later and about 15 minutes later they were both back down. 'It's so hot,' Jessy said.

That was for Josie, you know. I am sure she was very warm. So I suggested we have a walk or something outside, in all our finery, you know. So in our fancy shoes, cute panties and completely over-the-top stockings, we strolled out across the garden terrace and descended to the side yard. We went round the front lawn of the house and through the driveway area to the preserve path that leads through the trees and bushes to the softball field. It was hot and there ought to have been rain, but the sky actually had cleared more. We were all sweating in the stockings-- but we looked great!

Lisa wanted to play on the swings but none of the rest of us did-- it was just too hot, and I didn't want any of us to tear the stockings, and of course there was always a chance someone would drive by on the road and happen to look in the gate and see us there. So we strolled back to the garden, put the preserve gate safely closed behind us, and then stripped on the terrace for the pool. Jessy and Josie got off their shoes and stockings and then dared each other to dive in wearing the panties. I knew why-- Josie's (which were Jessy's actually) were probably in need of a good rinsing!

I was feeling cute and prised off the panties first. As I stood up straight, in just the lacy white stockings and the shoes, Lisa looked up admiringly and finally said, 'Ohhh. I see why now.'

I smiled down at her. 'But you know what I look like,' I said.

She nodded. 'I know. But those don't show.'

'No,' I said, dropping the panties into a chair. 'I just wish the others didn't.'

Lisa shrugged. 'Oh well. Do you think I can go swimming in this?'

She was still in the all-cotton bandanna bikini. I bent and inspected the knots, retying one side more snugly. 'Sure, try it,' I said. 'If it comes off, you can just leave it.' I giggled at her then. 'None of us will mind.'

'Yes, but-- do you think it will show?'

The other two, in the pool, and I all laughed. 'You don't have anything to show!' Jessy teased her.

Lisa got a little red, looking over at me. 'I wish I did,' she said quietly.

I reached down and hugged her. 'You sweet little girl!' I told her. 'Don't worry about that. You don't want to grow up too soon.'

'I want to be beautiful,' she said, 'like you are.'

I squeezed her. 'You are beautiful. And, trust me, sweetheart, when you are my age, you will be more beautiful than any of us. I can tell already from how beautiful you are now.'

She smiled at me. 'Do you think this will stay on if I jump? I want it to stay on.'

I smiled and stood up straight. 'Only one way to find out,' I said.

Lisa giggled and jumped into the water. The bandanna bikini stayed on.

Daddy did not come home by 5.00 and when I went in I saw a message blinking beside the phone. He had rung and said he would be at the studio till maybe 8.00 or 9.00. Mother had not come home yet either and so I prepared some frozen pizza and we all decided to curl up in the TV room and watch videos. For Lisa's sake we watched the Hannah Montana movie first. We were all in our panties-and-stockings outfits again-- Josie actually in the pink-and-fuscia ensemble she had worn up in Jessy's room. Jessy sat down front with Lisa but before starting '17 Again' (which we had watched in England but which Lisa and Josie had never seen) Lisa sat up with me. Josie had a potty break, sat with Jessy, then ended up down front with Lisa, and Jessy sat in back with me. Those two did not see then as Jessy went on petting herself in her all-blue outfit. I ignored her-- this is old news for me. Lisa fell asleep in the chair right in front of me, which was a good thing since Lisa began to make some inevitable noise. Josie finally turned round and realised what she was doing. 'Oh, God,' she said, and shivered.

'Mm,' Jessy said, pretty committed to it by then.

'Ohhh....' Josie was going weaker. 'Oh, I really need to--'

'No, you don't,' I said to her.

She looked at me. 'Um, no,' she said softly, 'I guess I don't. Still....'

'Let her go,' I whispered.

'Ahhh!' Jessy sighed deeply, and pushed the panties right off then. From what we heard she was pretty successful in what she hoped for.

Josie remained very good and by the time we were all going in to bed the episode had faded into the past. But sometimes I worry about those two. When they stay over each other's house they sleep in the same bed, usually naked or at least very close to it. I know neither of them is inappropriate about it-- they're just good friends, really much more like little kids than anything else. But I do worry about how much they will indulge themselves or encourage each other in it.

Tonight I was online with a friend, whom I'll call 'Kelly', and I told her about what happened in Jessy's room and in the TV room. Kelly admitted she masturbates a lot, nearly every day. I said I do it so infrequently that I usually don't remember the exact date of the last time. 'I'm just not very sexually oriented, like that,' I said to her. Kelly admitted that chatting about intimate details like this often arouses her a little and that it's kind of hard to avoid the temptation. I really don't mind that my friends yield so easily to it, so long as they don't hold it against me that I don't. In turn I expect my real friends to not judge me as a hypocrite if I occasionally yield to it myself.

Kelly and I promised we'd do it when we signed off AOL tonight. I kept my promise-- and my bed has got the puddle from it!

...