Shorts

11. A Summer of Surprises

As the sun blazed overhead, Patrick Thompson slouched in the passenger seat of his mother's car, arms crossed defiantly. His wild hair whipped in the wind, and he stared out the window, watching the world blur by.

"Patrick, you need to understand," his mother, Laura, said, her voice strained. "This summer is for your own good. Your grandmother can help you get some discipline."

"Discipline? Mom, I'm not a dog!" Patrick shot back, his voice rising in frustration. "I don't need to be shipped off like some naughty kid!"

"Maybe if you hadn't gotten in trouble at school for the third time this year, I wouldn't have to send you away," she replied sharply, her grip tightening on the steering wheel.

Patrick huffed, turning away. He couldn't believe it. The last place he wanted to spend his summer was at Grandma Edna's. She was strict, old-fashioned, and he knew she had her own ideas about what boys like him needed.

As they pulled into the driveway of a quaint, ivy-covered house, Patrick felt a knot tighten in his stomach. The lawn was perfectly manicured, and the air smelled of freshly cut grass mixed with the faint aroma of lavender from Grandma Edna's garden.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered, stepping out of the car.

"Patrick," his mother said, her tone softening slightly, "just try to be good. She loves you, and I'm sure you'll have fun."

"Fun? Right," he scoffed, dragging his bag behind him.

As he approached the front door, it swung open, revealing his grandmother, a petite woman with silver hair neatly pinned back and glasses perched on her nose. She wore a floral dress that seemed to swirl with the summer breeze.

"Patrick! Come here, darling!" she called, her arms outstretched.

He forced a smile, stepping inside her house. The interior was filled with delicate porcelain figurines, lace doilies, and an overwhelming scent of baked cookies.

"Let's get you settled in," Grandma Edna said, leading him to a small, sunlit room filled with vintage furniture. "This will be your space for the summer."

Patrick glanced around, trying to hide his dismay. "Um, thanks, I guess."

"Now, I have a few rules we need to go over." She sat him down on the edge of the bed, her expression serious. "You're going to help me around the house, and there's a new dress code I'd like you to follow."

"A dress code?" Patrick exclaimed, his eyes wide. "You can't be serious!"

"Oh, I am, dear. It's time for a little petticoating," she said matter-of-factly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"Petticoating? What do you mean?" he stuttered, a mix of confusion and dread washing over him.

"Boys need to learn respect and decorum," she replied, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "And what better way than to wear something that encourages that? I have just the perfect outfits for you."

Patrick's mouth dropped open. "You can't make me wear dresses! That's ridiculous!"

"Oh, but I can, and I will," she said with a firm nod. "You'll find it quite liberating, I assure you."

"Liberating?" he echoed incredulously. "This is totally unfair!"

"Life isn't always fair, Patrick. Now, let's get you into something comfortable." She opened a closet filled with colorful dresses, petticoats, and shiny tights.

As his summer began to unfold in a way he could never have imagined, Patrick knew he was in for the ride of his life—one that would challenge everything he thought he knew about himself.