Life Imitates Art

Part 16 - Losing Either Way

Classes continue into the afternoon with uplifted sneers from my peers. It seems they all very much enjoyed what happened in P.E. today. I didn't. I still don't.

Their laughter and joy last all the way to the end of the day. I'm glad I can continue to make other people's lives better in any form. My art is a more deliberate form of that. Anything that happens at school seems to treat me more like a punching bag that tells a side-splittingly hilarious joke every time you whack it.

I don't think I'm limping, but Tessa disagrees.

"You're hurt, aren't you?"

"What?"

"P.E. get you again?"

It's scary that she knows that without me saying anything to guide her towards that conclusion. Turns out that she just knows what happens to me at that place.

"Yeah. Rugby, if you'd believe. Got caught in between a tackle and another tackle."

"Like a fish with a choice to make!"

"Huh?"

"Fish and tackle. Sorry, I'll stop baiting you. Ho ho, and she gets him again!"

"You're not funny, sis."

"Nope. I'm absolutely hilarious. And there's nothing you can do about it." She always makes me smile with the stupidest of methods. "So, is the leg alright?"

"It's fine. I can walk. I also threw up afterwards, but don't tell Mum and Dad that. They'll want me kept off school again, and I've missed too much recently."

"Well, none of that was your fault. But sure, I'll keep it between us. Just like Maxine."

Here's my chance. Time to shut Tessa up about this for good. Remember the mantra!

"After the day I've had, it sounds like the perfect way to forget about it."

"Really? You'll do it?"

"Unless you don't want me to..." Max! The. Mantra!

"Oh no, I certainly want you to. I've been dying to see you in this outfit for days now! My sister dressing to go to the same school as me, away from those nasty boys."

Once we're home, I instantly head for a shower. Not only have I been outside (ew) but I think water will help the pain. I would assume hot water will work better. I'll take a look down and...yeah, may as well give the legs a once-over before going through Tessa's latest plan for me.

What is wrong with me? A simple four-word code and I don't even have the balls or guts or anything else anatomical to shut this down? I'm just letting it happen? I'm just letting Tessa treat me like a Barbie doll and hide it behind her helping me with my art.

But that's the thing. She is helping my artwork. She's coming up with ideas, suggesting little style edits and even allowing me to cross the reality/fantasy divide and make my OC a part of the real world temporarily. It's not like she is doing nothing. It's just...I'm not doing the sorts of things I should.

Moisturising has been another great tip from Tess. Ever since she told me about it, I've been using it daily, especially before the skirt goes on and sketching time begins. It's not all useless. My skin really likes that change to my routine.

I return to my room. Tessa shouts through to me, "let me know once you're decent!" Decision time. The mantra. I can't let her do this. I can't let myself go through with this. I'd never live it down as a man. I slip my boxers on and fully prepare to shout through that I'm not interested. Deep breath. Go!

"Ready, sis!"

Oh, for f*ck's sake, Max!

Tessa comes racing through, leaving the room quickly and returning with a second bag of stuff. How much does she plan on doing?

"So it's not just the skirt?"

"Oh hell no! You graduated from skirts. No, you're going head-to-toe tonight. I didn't bother changing. We can be all matching like sisters do sometimes!" Superb. Can't wait.

"Should brothers and sisters match at this age?"

"They don't often. Normal ones don't, particularly not this way. A sister is often in the same trousers as the brother, not vice versa." She gives me the stern look again, the one she uses to let me know she isn't making fun of me. "We aren't normal. And no one needs to find out, right?"

"Right. Just make sure there's no evidence of any of this."

"It's all good. We have a few hours, and I'll have you ready in like, half that time."

"90 minutes? Really?" Quick maths!

"I'll try be a little faster, but yeah. I don't wake up like this, Maxine."

Her face does look laminated at times. She must go through a lot of product. It's odd in a way. She wears so much makeup that you would assume she's one of those party girls. She isn't. She's very quiet and reserved and an absolute nerd. Bookworm, know-it-all etc. That's her. But she has always been crazy into makeup and perfecting looks. Maybe what I do with pen, she prefers to master with all this other not-pen.

And can I really be calling her odd? Or anyone else? I'm the boy who's been wearing skirts.

Tonight's lies in front of me on my bed, along with everything else she wears to school minus the underwear. She really is intent on making this happen. I don't know how this will go, but it is far too late to back out. She organises the supplies while I sit and get comfy. I'll be here a while if she's not joking.

At least it's not silent. Tessa starts playing music - just a random playlist of the current chart stuff.

"Working in silence is weird."

"Agreed." And that is the last word I will say for as long as this takes. The process of different chemicals being applied can't really be enhanced by my insights. I have no clue what any of it is, and only the vaguest semblance of an idea of where you paint each one from drawing so many girls before. Today, I am the art and not the artist.

I don't know if I want Tessa to like what she sees. I'm almost certain I'm dreading it either way. If I hate it, I'll hate how she's made me look. I'll hate how she has morphed me into something I really don't want to be for a night.

But if I do somehow like it...that would actually be a lot worse.