The Blue Dress

The Blue Dress - Part Three

There was no music playing in the hall itself yet. The only two soundtracks were the more distant drone of the piper and the increasing volume of high-pitched voices, tittering and giggling. As I approached, the pointing and gesturing started. I had been dealing with bullies all of my life but this was something different. Some girls jokingly gushed over how I looked, the more popular ones mocked the 'sissy' and a few were even offended by my presence there. 'You're not a real girl', they said. 'You're on the wrong side', they insisted. 'You don't belong here,' they chimed. I suppose the only things stopping me from turning around and leaving were the fact I had no way to escape since my date drove us here and the one girl who didn't seem to hate me being there.

Her name was Cindy and she was one of those girls who showed up to class about 60% of the time, she was so consumed by her passion for arts that she usually avoided lessons by creating endless projects in the empty art classroom. Her makeup was loud as you would expect - bright green eyeshadow and a bold matching lip which practically leapt off her pale face - but it perfectly contrasted her subdued, long black gown and sophisticated mid-heels. We spoke mainly about hating everyone else and our dark senses of humour and it was one of those situations where we would always have been friends and no more. She motioned for me to go and sit beside her which I gladly accepted. In amongst all of the teenage chatter surrounding us, she asked the important questions.

'Dare I ask why you're dressed like that?' she puzzled. I didn't know whether it was a smart move to lie to one of the only people at school who didn't hate me so I confessed what happened to her. 'Damn, that's a heavy punishment! Well, stick with me tonight. One, I wouldn't trust your date. Two, you'd honestly be better to just convince people that you chose to do this. You know how popular bitches like to keep up their charade of supporting each other.'

I agreed and found comfort in the fact that I was right - I should make this seem like my choice. Like I had come out as a girl. But what was she meaning about my date? My best friend had been so nice to me and we practically needed to be cut apart from each other. Besides, surely guys didn't care as much as girls about having someone in drag at prom. Guys in my year tended to only look at key features on a woman before deciding whether they would 'hit that.' Maybe my reluctance to join in on such riveting conversations was why I had so few friends of my own sex as well. 

I asked for advice on how to make it seem like I was transgender. Cindy took one look at me and said words I will never forget. 'Have you ever thought that you might be?' My mouth was agape as she continued to whisper deep-cutting words. 

'Think about this - you're dressed better than some of the other girls here tonight, you came in happily holding your date's hand, you haven't fallen over in your heels yet despite never wearing them and you were visibly pissed off when the old hag at the door called you a sissy. Straight cis-guys, I would have thought, would have played this more for laughs. Second-hand dresses, tennis shoes, still sporting all of their facial and body hair and most importantly, would have a girlfriend that put them up to it. I'm no gender psychologist obviously, but everything about you tonight screams that you're finally free from male expectation. You're also trying to hide your smile at the moment, when most guys who spoke to a girl for this long would be trying to hide...something else.'

I was shuddering in my seat as the truth started to set in. Cindy quickly changed topic, however, letting me know that the meal was divided into male and female tables and that the prom committee put her at the table of 'Social Outcasts' - there was a cheesy sign in romantic font in the centre of the table which read these exact words. They couldn't change my name on the list so a different teacher came to attempt to solve the problem and change my seat.

His sudden appearance at my side made me jump in my chair and let out a far from manly noise. Cindy laughed at this but I don't blame her - certain things are just always funny, I would have laughed if she was the one spooked by the Geography teacher. Another teacher I barely even knew who was annoyed by my presence. 'What kind of joke do you think you're playing? Is this just so you can sit next to your girlfriend?'

Cindy kindly and carefully popped the miserable man back in his place. 'Sir, I'm not her girlfriend, and she's transgender. I thought the school was supposed to tolerate and even encourage expression? Next, you'll be commenting on how my lipstick is unbecoming of a young lady and asking me when dinner is ready.' It's hard not to express your satisfaction when you watch your best friend stand up for you and roast your tormentor at the same time. We would still have no chance of romance but in that moment, it was fair to say I loved her. More like a big sister - she was slightly older and about a foot taller, even when my heels were comfortably two inches taller.

'Apologies. We just don't expect it so suddenly to come out of nowhere. Usually, there are warning signs.' He scurried off and returned two minutes later with the fear visible in his eyes and holding a clipboard. 'Please write your preferred name on the bottom of the list, you can sit next to your friend. Sorry about all of this.' Silence is usually the best response in this situation and we let him leave our sight before I even started writing. 

'Well? What's your name for at least tonight?'

'Only tonight!' I affirmed. 'But my mum and the stylist have been calling me Alicia.'

'Stylist? That settles it, you need to write all of this down some day. Sounds like you have had a hella busy day and we haven't even had to dance yet. Alicia's a nice name, suits you.'

I gave her a look which suggested I wanted her to shut up but she only encouraged me to be my true self. 'Just write Alicia on that list, and tell me how it feels once you have.'

I took the pen from inside the clip of the clipboard and clicked the top once. Then I began to write. 'A' - ok nothing weird yet. 'L' - just odd to be writing a different name I suppose. 'I' - not so bad this. 'C' - oh no, it's starting to feel right. And just as I went to start writing the second 'I', my hand disobeyed the orders and wrote an 'E' instead. 

'Alice, huh? Even better, you chose it yourself now, that's surely making you question if you wanted this to happen?' Cindy honestly and rather excitedly interrogated. It was as if she had the ultra-bright lightbulb shining in my face but had tinted it all in rose for some reason. 

I had read stories before - fiction, of course - about people who have their hands replaced and then struggle to keep control of them. But I had never known it to actually happen at times. I wrote my surname while I still had control of the pen and placed it on a nearby table where someone would see it. And someone did collect it, finalising my name change for the night.

It seemed as though we had been talking for hours and that prom was just an excuse to have a town hall meeting but this all ended when the school's rector appeared in the middle of the hall. Why did it look like we were about to play a huge game of dodgeball? Her dark-red dress looked professional while also having an element of fun to it with the frills on the shoulders and her black hair didn't quite reach her chin. 

She grabbed everyone's attention with her booming voice that put Miss Marple to shame and welcomed us all to the most important night of our lives. She summarised the plans for the evening - whole year-group photos outside first then time for the meal and afterwards, we were free to dance the night away. She dismissed us, ladies first, out of the door opposite the one guarded by the old guard, which led into the hotel's garden. Why did a hotel have a garden? People like photos, that's why.