Truth be told, you don't really have time to look the next day…or the day after that…because for the next week, you are kept pretty busy as you learn more and more about what it means to attend Madam Yu's.
And it was only after that week, when you were finally placed, via several tests, into the fourth grade at a secondary level, that you find that your schedule has a free period, but that free period means that you are supposed to report to a designated classroom to either catch up on homework or read the book the Headmistress gave you.
Instead of doing so, you sneak off, figuring the most that will happen is that you are either given a good talking to or a detention.
"Possibly both," you think to yourself as you try a door, but find it locked.
Moving down the hall, you try another door, but stop as you suddenly realise that what you might actually do eventually is stumble into an occupied classroom. Concerned that this might happen, you look up and down the hallway and then begin to proceed in a more cautious fashion; listening at doors before you try them; moving in such a manner that you hope will not draw attention to yourself when you pass a couple of students.
And then, to your surprise, you find a door that does open and stepping through, you find yourself standing outside.
Shivering, you turn to go back in, but are disappointed and upset when you find that the door has shut and had locked behind you. Looking about, you wonder if maybe you should just make a break for it and forget the note. Hugging yourself, hating the way the wind keeps whipping your dress about, and every now and then blowing up your legs, chilling them in the process, you start to move, figuring the first thing you should do was find something appropriate to wear outside.
A noise distracts you and turning toward the sound, you gasp as you watch Mistress Yu step outside, look at you and with a smile on her face, she announced, "My, my, my. We are in a bit of trouble."
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You sit up, gasping, looking around the familiar and comfortable room, taking in the decorations that aren't quite feminine, but aren't quite masculine. Shaking your head, you remember the dream. Something about being a nine year old boy in an all girl's school and that you were being made to act like a girl. And then you were caught by the headmistress for something.
Shaking your head again, you attempt to recall the rest of what you are sure was a dream, but all that you can remember is being taken to Mistress Yu's office, told to have a seat and that you were to receive the Treatment.
Climbing out of bed, you adjust your nightgown a bit and head for the bathroom, sure that it was all a dream, passing your sister Jackie on the way to the toilet.
Inside, you hike up your nightgown, pushing down your underwear a bit, stare at your penis and testicles a moment, figure there was nothing wrong there and sitting down, you begin to empty your bladder, your mind still wandering to the dream every now and again.
After you have finished your business, you head back to your room, but are stopped by your mother, who tells you, "Your grandparents are in town and we are meeting them tonight. I want you to look nice for them."
"Mom. I always look nice for them," you whine out in protest, but your mom cuts you off before you can really get going by telling you, "This time I want you to wear a dress. No more of this dressing like a boy. You were born a girl and it is high time you started acting like one. Besides, I do not think the tomboy phase is really that appropriate any more, seeing as your body is starting its development towards womanhood."
Embarrassed, you hug yourself and remain quiet and sullen as your mother continues to explain herself and how you should be acting and behaving. When you finally have the opportunity to get in a word edgewise, you tell her, "Fine. I'll wear a dress," and turning, you stalk back to your room, unhappy with the outcome.
As you shuck off the nightgown and toss it into the nearby laundry bin, a voice inside your mind screamed out, "This is all wrong! I am not a girl! I am a boy! I do not wear dresses!" and turning toward the full body mirror, you gaze evenly at your reflection.
Running a hand through your long brownish-blonde hair, you wonder about what your mother said as you take in your four foot four height and then subtle bulge coming from your underwear. Turning away from the mirror, you head over to your dresser and take from within a leotard-looking pair of underwear that has snaps between the legs.
Returning to the mirror, you take off your underwear and stare at your naked form for a minute. After a bit, you squat down, forcing your penis and testicles between your legs, and pull on the one-piece underwear.
Adjusting it, you look back at the mirror and torn between being happy with the way you look and upset because a voice inside your mind, something you are sure was your conscious, kept harping at the issue that you are not a eleven year old girl, but a nine year old boy, you hug yourself and shift about.
------
Hours later, dressed in your favourite pair of bib-overalls, you catch the bus to the mall, determined to at least make an effort to make your mother happy. Slung over one shoulder was a pack containing, among other things, your allowance for the past couple of months, and a bit extra you withdrew from your savings account.
Entering the mall, you pause as you wonder where you would go to buy a dress and for a second you are overwhelmed by the voice screaming in your head.
Making up your mind, you head instead to a local store selling bras and underwear and inside, you flag down the attendant, suddenly curious about something as you push the voice away, thinking about how your older sister, who was about three years older then you, dressed and acted.
When you have the attendant's attention, you suddenly feel really shy about what you are about to ask and it takes you a bit to get up the courage to tell the nice old woman before you, "I need to be fitted for a bra."
She smiles at this and asked you, "First time?" to which you simply nod in response.
Guiding to the back of the store, she began to explain the process; how with a fitting a girl could get three bras free; what most girls your age find comfortable; and how it was normal for you to be nervous at this stage in your life.
------
Half an hour later, sitting in the woman's toilet, you stare down at your chest, attempting to get used to the bra you are now wearing, unsure because you could have sworn that the two lumps that make up your chest were not there when you first entered the shop. Reaching for the bag on the floor, you take one of the bras out, there are about eleven inside as you decide to buy a couple, and stare at the undergarment.
The tag attached reads 32A and running your fingers over the lacy cups, you undo the clasp in the front, secretly glad that you bought the kind that has a bit of extra padding, but doesn't have the underwire.
Placing the bra back in the bag, you take out the underwear, thinking about the several other pair your have just bought, thinking that the low-cut, bikini brief look was really cute. Dropping the underwear back into the back, you look down past your chest, gazing evenly at your penis and testicles, unsure suddenly if you should or shouldn't have genitals like that.
Cupping the male genitals with one hand, you stick your other hand down the front of your one-piece underwear, into the cup of your bra and cupping the flesh there, you asked of yourself, "Which of these is the truth?" as the voice inside your head continued to demand that you were a nine year old boy, not a eleven year old girl.