The Walt Way

three o'clock: make a man out of you

This chapter is super dialogue heavy, so sorry about that.

---

three o'clock: make a man out of you

Because Remy was so incredibly rude to me, I swiped one of the teacups from the retirement home. I knew that stealing from an institution dedicated to helping the elderly was “wrong,” but I needed to get back at him somehow. It was currently displayed on my bedside table. I saw it not as framing a rejection letter but as an accomplishment of my successful thievery.

“Which princess are we doing today?” Donovan asked.

“I had Chinese food last night...”

“Mulan’s not a princess, though.”

“She still managed to snag a guy. It’s more than you can do,” I teased.

“I choose to be single.”

“Sure, yeah. I need you to take off your clothes.”

“I know I’m hot and everything, but I’m not stripping for you, Coralie. What would your parents think? You’d bring dishonor on your family.”

“Har har har. You’re not funny. I didn’t mean it like that. I just need to be a guy. Do you know anyone who can teach me?”

“Don’t push it. I’m your only ally here.”

“I prefer the term sidekick. It’s more Disney, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think Walt up there really cares what you use.”

I slapped my hand over his mouth. “Shh. Don’t speak about him like he’s alive. It’s rude.”

“I don’t think he cares about that either.”

Donovan refused to trade clothes with me, so we made a trip over to his house to grab something from his closet. I would’ve taken something from Dad, but it was just too uptight and loose-fitting for my liking. There was nothing in his closet that screamed “I am a crossdresser for my father.”

When I said this to him, there was nothing on his face but sheer disappointment. “That’s because I’m not a crossdresser for my father.”

“I suppose you don’t own any armor, do you?”

“Let me go check my dress-up closet.”

In my seven years of knowing Donovan, I had no idea that such a thing existed. “Seriously? You have one?”

He shook his head, eyebrows knitted with dissatisfaction. “No, Coralie. I don’t. It was a joke. Why are you so gullible?” he breathed, exasperated.

“I was just a girl believing that her bestest friend in the whole wide world would tell her the truth.”

“I’m your best friend?”

“Who else would help me with all of this?”

“Touché.”

I spotted an army green bathrobe hanging from the rack on his door. If I wore something minimal under it, say maybe a black tank top and a pair of shorts, I could wear it around all day. That way, I wouldn’t accidentally flash anyone because that wasn’t the Mulan way to snag a guy. I pointed to it. “Can I wear that?”

“My bathrobe? No.”

“Why not?”

“It’s been on my naked body!”

“So have the rest of your clothes.”

“You suck.”

“I’ll take that as your surrender. I’m going to need some long black socks.” He reached into his sock drawer and tossed a pair to me. “While I get dressed, I’m going to need you to get me another sports bra from my room. Can you handle that?”