Neighbours

by Sarah Bayen

Chapter One

 

I hated him from the first moment I saw him. In fact, I hated him before I had seen him. I remember the day they moved in. I watched from my bedroom window, looking out across our little cul de sac as they arrived in their pathetic little green car. His parents got out first, and stood on the pavement, looking at Andrea's house, smiling, and putting their arms around each other in celebration. And then he got out of the car, small and weedy looking, with scrawny brown hair, and a really old fashioned pair of jeans. His parents took him by the hand, and then hugged him, and then the three of them made their way into Andrea's house.

Andrea; why had she left? She had been my best friend since I could remember; her and Katy anyway, but I had always preferred Andrea. There were just the three of us kids in the street, all girls. Not that the street was very big. It was new, but not big, there were only five houses there, and three of them contained no children at all, not unless you counted Mrs. Carter's daughter; but she didn't really live there since she went to University, and anyway, she was at least twenty.

So there were just the three of us; Andrea, Katy and I. We were the Wild Girls, that's what we called ourselves, and we owned the street on which we lived. No other kids could come there without our permission, and we rarely granted that, and certainly not to boys. We played in the fields and woods around the little row of houses, heedless of our parents' warnings. We had found an abandoned old shed, and made it our den. We had found a tramp sleeping in one of the barns the previous summer, and thrown stones at him to drive him away. We were fearless, and in control of our own destinies.

And then Andrea had moved away. It wasn't her fault, it was her father's. He had got some stupid job miles away, and that was that. Nobody bothered to ask Andrea, let alone me, it was all just arranged. And two weeks before the boy arrived, she had gone, promising to write, but no letters had come.

 

The next morning Katy came to call for me. She was wearing a short sky blue skirt, which was strange; we normally just wore jeans and trainers, skirts were a rarity outside of school. I didn't like Katy as much as Andrea because she smiled too much; Andrea didn't smile unless there was something funny going on; Katy seemed to smile for the sake of it. She was smiling now.

"Hi Jen!" she said brightly. "Have you seen the new people yet?"

I nodded, and told her that I had seen them move in. How could I have missed it? Their huge bloody moving van had more or less blocked the street all day. My Dad had had to park out on the main road, and bring the car in later, when they had finally finished unloading their pathetic possessions.

"They've got a son, about our age," Katy told me, still smiling.

"I know. Terrible, isn't it?" I responded, and moved out of the way to let her into our hall. "Come on, let's go upstairs."

I climbed a few flights, and then stopped. Katy was not following me. "What's the matter?" I asked her grumpily.

She bit her lip, and looked nervous for a moment. "Well," she began. "I promised my Mum we'd call for the new boy, and show him around."

I couldn't believe it. He'd only been here one day, and already he was messing things up. "Show him around what?" I snapped.

She shrugged. "Well I don't know. I think she meant we should just be friendly, you know."

I glared at her. The last thing I wanted to do was to be friendly to the boy who had displaced Andrea. "I don't want to be friendly," I told her firmly. "He's a boy, we don't like boys."

This was not as true as it had been four years ago, when Katy, Andrea and I had all moved into the little close when it had first been built. We were all nine then, and we all genuinely hated boys. It had seemed brilliant that there were no boys in the close. We had to put up with them at school of course, but once we got back home, we were in charge.

I had noticed over the last year or so that Katy's attitude had been changing. More than once I had found her giggling stupidly with a group of boys in the corridors at school, and I knew that she had replaced the posters of ponies and fairies that had once decorated her bedroom with pictures of spotty boys pretending to be pop stars. I was no longer sure that Katy hated boys as she had once done.

She looked up at me sheepishly and shrugged. "Well I know that," she mumbled. "But I sort of promised my Mum." I knew now why she was unusually wearing a skirt, it was for this boy! And to think that we had pledged never to do that sort of thing, to demean ourselves for men! I looked at her in contempt, watching her move her legs becomingly, and showing off her strappy shoes.

"Well you go then," I said eventually. "It's nothing to do with me."

"Oh come on Jen!" she pleaded. "You know I'm shy!"

At this moment, of all moments, my Mum came through into the hall from the kitchen.

"Hi Katy!" she said, "How are you doing? It's good to see you in a skirt for once!"

"Thank you," Katy nauseatingly replied.

"What are you two going to do today then?" my Mum went on. "It's the holidays you know, you should be getting outside or something."

"Well I was just going to call for the new boy in Andrea's old house," Katy bubbled on. "I thought we ought to make him welcome."

"That's a good idea," my Mum enthused. My heart sank; I knew what was coming next. "Come on Jen, you go over and say hello to him as well."

"I don't want to," I replied sulkily.

My Mum came to the foot of the stairs and gave me one of those looks; you know the sort, the one that says that you're on the border of being in serious trouble, and if your friend wasn't here, I'd be giving you an earful of grief about your attitude young lady!

"Well I think you should," she stated, firmly. "If we were to move into a new neighbourhood, I bet you'd appreciate it if people made you welcome."

I folded my arms in front of myself, and stared hard at the banister to avoid her eyes.

"Don't you sulk at me!" she suddenly snapped, despite Katy being there. Now I knew I was in bother. "You just go over there and make the poor boy welcome. And no just saying hello, and running away again. I want you to play with him all day!"

"Oh but Mum," I began.

"No buts!" she snapped, before I could continue. "And you might want to consider getting changed as well."

"Changed?" I asked, incredulous. Mum hardly ever mentioned my choice of clothes, unless we were going to a wedding, or somewhere equally posh.

"Yes," she went on imperiously. "Katy's made the effort, haven't you dear?"

Katy glanced at me, and then smiled winningly at my Mum.

"So I don't see why you can't as well. Boys like it when girls dress up nice."

My mouth was opening and closing in shock and outrage, but no sounds were coming out.

"Why don't you find a nice dress or skirt to put on."

"You could wear your pink one," Katy suggested.

My pink one! My Mum and Dad had bought that for my birthday some three months before, and I had never even tried it on; I hated it! Pink, for God's sake. Did I ever wear anything pink?

"I'm okay as I am," I managed to say eventually, through my rage.

I wondered if Mum would press the point. She was obviously thinking about it, but in the end, she simply shook her head, and walked back into the kitchen.

"Come on then Jen!" Katy urged. "Let's go and see what he's like!"

Scowling, I descended the stairs, and let Katy lead the way out into the garden. The five houses were arranged in a little semi circle at the end of a small street from the main road down to the village. When they were first built, when we had first moved in, they had all looked identical. Now, each of the residents had managed to add some little touch of individuality. Ours had what had once been the garage converted into an extra room. Katy's Mum and Dad's house had a porch over the front door, and fussy looking hanging baskets full of bright flowers hanging all around. Only Andrea's, or what used to he Andrea's, was still in more or less its original condition. I supposed her Mum and Dad never intended to stay all that long. I knew from what Andrea had said that he was always looking for a better job elsewhere. Well, eventually he had found one.

"I wonder what his name is?" Katy said, still smiling, and straightening the hem of her skirt.

"I don't care what his name is," I spat. "He's a boy."

"I know that," Katy went on. "It's quite exciting isn't it? Having a boy in the close for a change!"

I stopped and glared at her. "Exciting? No it's not bloody exciting, it's horrible. Boys always ruin everything!" And I knew I was right. They made something of a fuss around Katy at school, but only because she was pretty in the traditional sense of the word. She had bobbed blonde hair, and the beginnings of a figure. And above all she smiled, boys liked that even if I didn't. As for me, boys either ignored me, or tried to make my life a misery. I was tall and gangly. I know all girls are tall and gangly at thirteen, or at least that's what my Mum said, but I was really tall and gangly. I was five feet seven, at least three inches taller than most of the boys in our year, and I guess that's why they hated me. I hated them too, which made it all right.

"Come on Jen," Katy urged. "Let's knock for him."

I stood still, and glared at her. She ought to know better than this. We had always vowed that as the Wild Girls, we were better than any boys. Better at everything. So why was she now playing up to this stranger.

"We're still the Wild Girls, even though Andrea's not here." I muttered to her.

She looked at me puzzled. "Yeah, I know that. What's that got to do with anything?"

I glared at her, with anger and fear in my eyes. "I don't want him changing anything!" I snapped. "We're the Wild Girls, and always will be. He's going to have to put up with that."

"I'm sure he will," Katy responded, soothingly. She looked at me with something resembling pity for a moment, and then we both walked across to the house I would always regard as Andrea's. I stomped sullenly up the path behind Katy, who looked more energetic than usual. I had seen this boy, and she was in for a disappointment. He was small and weedy, probably even shorter than her, and she was no giant. Still, I reasoned, that was good. It would put an end to her ridiculous flirty behaviour.

She knocked on the door, and we waited. The boy himself answered it, and I was right. He was shorter than Katy, by a good inch or two, and skinnier as well. He had pathetic brown eyes, which showed fear when he saw us. Good job, I thought. He should be frightened of me at least. I intended to give him no quarter!

"Hi!" Katy said in her bright smiley voice. I couldn't see her face, but I hoped it betrayed her disappointment. "My name's Katy, I live over there." She turned a little, and signalled at her house. His pathetic brown eyes glanced in the direction she indicated, and then nervously darted back to her face. "And this is Jenny," she went on, turning to me. His big eyes turned to me, and I glared back at him.

"Jen," I corrected.

"Hi," he said, nervously.

"We were wondering if you'd like us to show you around," Katy went on, obviously determined to continue with her mission, in spite of the pathetic ness of the boy. "What's your name by the way?"

He still looked nervous and suspicious, but managed to speak. "I'm John," he piped in his unbroken treble.

There was a moment's silence. "So do you want to come and have a look around?" Katy went on. I prayed that the boy would say no.

"I'll have to ask my Mum," he replied eventually. "Hang on." And with this, he disappeared into the bowels of the house I knew so much better than him.

"He's sweet!" Katy offered, turning to me, and smiling.

I sneered. "I don't know about that." I looked at the front garden, and saw the naked garden gnome that Andrea and I had bought one day last summer. We had thought it really daring, standing there, and holding its Willy out in front of itself as if having a wee. We had laughed till it hurt outside the shop, before plucking up the courage to buy it. She hadn't even taken it with her. I determined to reclaim it, and place it in our garden as soon as this new family, these usurpers', backs were turned.

"He's taking his time," Katy whispered to me. "I hope his Mum isn't being difficult."

"I doubt it," I replied gloomily. "Perhaps she's telling him to get changed like mine did."

Katy giggled at this. "I doubt it," she said. "He'd look a bit silly in a skirt."

"No more silly than me." I muttered, as she giggled again at the thought of the boy wearing a skirt like hers. It didn't make me laugh. As the thought occurred to me, it seemed entirely reasonable that he should wear one. He was smaller than me, and probably had nicer legs. It seemed entirely unfair that I should be constantly nagged to wear one, when he was blissfully left alone.

Eventually he came back. "It's okay. She says I can come," he said, pointedly to Katy rather than me. His nervous face broke into a smile in response to hers, and I felt angrier than ever. He shut the door behind him, and the three of us walked up the path.

Katy led him on a tour of our favourite haunts while I sullenly followed on, silent, and listening to their inane chatter. Katy told him cheerily of all the adventures that the Wild Girls had had in the area; the time we had built a swing across the old chestnut tree, and how I had fallen out of it when the rope had broken. It felt like a violation that he should be hearing of all of this. It was bad enough that he had taken Andrea's house, now it seemed like he was taking her memories.

He said little himself, listening in the main to Katy's tales, and asking polite questions from time to time. Too polite, I thought to myself. I knew what boys were really like, and there was no way he was genuinely interested in what she was saying. He was saving it all up, so that when we went back to school at the end of summer, he could tell all the other boys, and they would mock us.

She led him into the little copse of trees at the rear of the cow's field. This was too much! "Stop!" I yelled. Somehow they had managed to get ten yards or more in front of me. "What do you think you're doing?" I demanded of Katy.

"I'm going to show him our den."

"No you're not! He's not allowed in there." I told her firmly, and stood in her way, blocking the little dirt path.

"Oh come on Jen, don't be silly!" she said to me, for once the smile falling off her face.

I stood resolute, and folded my arms across my chest. "It's our den. He's not allowed."

"Well I say he's allowed," she said defiantly, and turned to grab the boy's arm, and lead him forward. I pushed her back, and she stopped, and looked at me in frustration.

"You're being silly Jen. Stop it."

I glared at her. "This is our den. Yours mine and Andrea's."

"Well Andrea's not got much use for it any more has she?" Katy told me, glaring at me with her blue eyes. "I can't see her coming here for a quick chat all the way from Scotland can you?"

I hated her for this, all the more because it was true. "That doesn't matter," I told her. "It's the Wild Girls' den, and boys aren't allowed."

She turned to the boy for support. He was looking up at me with his pathetically large brown eyes full of concern rather than fear. "It doesn't matter," he said brightly, and throwing me a stupid smile. "Let's go and have a look at something else."

"No!" Katy snapped. "You're going to see it. I insist." She narrowed her eyes at me, considering whether she would be able to push past me if it came to it. I stood firm; this was a point of principle. I had to safeguard the memory of Andrea, and to that end, the den was my shrine.

"Please don't argue," he said, pathetically touching Katy's arm, She shook herself free of it, and glared at me.

"No," she said again. "It's as much my den as hers. If I say you can have a look at it, then you can."

This was becoming a trial of strength. In the past, I knew, Andrea would have backed me up. Katy always did what we told her; we led, and she followed. Now, with Andrea gone, she had decided to test herself out against me.

"He's not going in," I said, through gritted teeth. "He's a boy."

"You'd let him in if he was a girl wouldn't you?" she demanded. "If the people who took Andrea's house had had a daughter, you'd have let her in wouldn't you?"

I wasn't sure about this. We had talked about the possibility when Andrea had moved. We had been so upset about loosing our friend, that we had even overlooked the possibility of asking her parents who had bought the house, and whether they had any children of whatever gender.

I shrugged. "Maybe, but only if they were worthy of being in the Wild Girls."

"Well I think he's worthy of it," she told me, defiantly.

I looked at her in amazement. What a stupid comment. "He's a boy," I repeated. "How could he be worthy to be in the Wild Girls?"

She stared back at me with a sneer on her face. "Because I say so!" she asserted.

"You can't have a boy in the Wild Girls!" I insisted, incredulously.

"Then we'll pretend he's a girl!" she announced. "That's it, he can be an honorary girl. Does that satisfy you?"

I stared at her in amazement, and then at the small nervous boy beside her. He was biting his lip pathetically, and nervously looking at me. There was no way I was going to stand for this, no way at all.

"Boys can't pretend to be girls," I sneered.

"Yes they can!" she insisted. "And he'll be good at it, won't you John?" she demanded of him.

His eyes opened wide in surprise and shock. "Well I suppose so," he began. "But it's all right. I don't want to upset anyone."

"Nobody's going to be upset," Katy told him, glaring at me. "Are they Jen?"

I glared back at her. This was not going well from my perspective. Even though I knew girls were so much better than boys, I knew that the stupid creatures actually thought the opposite was true! They would regard pretending to be a girl as demeaning. I turned to the boy. If I made this pretence idea demeaning enough, he would back down.

"Well," I began. "Let's see how good at pretending to be a girl he's prepared to be shall we?" I said, triumphant with my new train of thought.

Katy looked a little uneasy. "What do you mean?"

"Well," I went on. "If he's going to pretend to be a girl, we need to make sure he's convincing at it."

Both of them stared at me, with anxiety growing on their faces. I smiled viciously, and took a step towards them.

"Well I suppose that's reasonable up to a point," Katy conceded. "What exactly did you have in mind?"

I moved as close as I could to the boy, and stared at him, with an evil grin on my face. "Well first of all," I began. "He'll have to have a girl's name."

His little mouth fell open, as if I had hit him. I had been right. He would never agree to pretend to be a girl by the rules I was about to lay down.

"Well I'm not sure about that," Katy said, frowning, and without a smile on her face for once.

"Well I am," I went on, still staring at the nervous looking boy. "If he's going to pretend to be a girl, he'll have to have a girl's name. And we'll have to call him by it all the time."

Katy looked even more worried. "That sounds a little unfair to me," she said.

"It's perfectly fair," I corrected her, still staring at the boy, who was, it seemed to me, beginning to tremble.

"Don't Jen," Katy pleaded on his behalf. "It'll be embarrassing for him to be called a girl's name."

I turned to face her, feeling pleased with myself. "But if he hasn't got a girl's name, how can he pretend to be a girl?" I asked. She looked shiftily from one foot to the other, realising that she had lost the advantage. All that remained now was for her to admit defeat, and lead her little charge away from the sacred territory of the den.

"It's all right," I was shocked to hear his high voice say. I turned to face him. "I don't mind having a girl's name if that's what you want."

I was entirely taken aback, and unable to speak for a moment. This was not what I had expected at all. How dare he say it was all right for him to have a girl's name! He was supposed to run back home to his Mum, away from the nasty girls who were trying to get him to pretend to be a girl. Momentarily nonplussed, I bit my lip, and then an idea struck me.

"Okay," I said, moving over to threaten him by my closeness again. "Good, I'm pleased you don't mind having a girl's name." I smiled evilly at him and he turned his eyes away from me. He was obviously concerned, and he looked to Katy for reassurance. Feeling pleased with myself, I moved in for the kill. "But I get to choose what it is."

"No," Katy said, trying to push between us. In the end she gave up, and moved protectively behind him, placing her hands on his shoulders. "He should choose it, or perhaps all of us together, so we're all happy with it."

"No," I hissed as sinisterly as I could. "I get to choose. That's the deal. Take it or leave it."

They both looked at me wide eyed, clearly taken aback that I could be so firm about this. But I was adamant; there was no way this usurper should be allowed into the sacred precinct of the Wild Girls Den!

"All right," I heard him whisper hoarsely. "You chose."

I glared back at him, my triumph snatched away from me. "What did you say?" I asked, incredulous, and stalling for time.

"I said you can choose what my name's going to be if that's what you want," he went on, looking at me levelly.

"Don't say that John," Katy whispered in his ear. "She'll pick something awful."

"It doesn't matter," he went on, his soft pathetic eyes still looking at me, and daring me to chose his new name. He fluttered his eyelashes artlessly a couple of times, and Katy gripped his shoulders even more firmly.

I was seething by now. This was not going to plan at all. What sort of boy would agree to pretend to be a girl, and have a girl's name so easily? Well, there was only one thing for it, to choose him such an embarrassing name that he got the message that he was not welcome here. I thought for a while. He needed something absurdly feminine; something that would make him cringe the moment he heard it. I racked my brain for ideas, and then it came to me. It was perfect, the name Katy had given to that ridiculous doll she had dragged around with her all the time, years after Andrea and I had given up on such childishness.

I smiled at them, as their eyes looked at me in fear and expectation. "I've got it," I announced. "He can be Charlotte!"

I felt a wave of glee as I saw him flinch. Katy's mouth fell open in shock and horror. "No!" she gasped. "You can't call him that!"

"Yes I can," I asserted. "He said I could choose, and I have!"

Her eyes were wide with indignation, while his, softer and more sorrowful, were more difficult to read.

"But it's silly," she went on. "We ought to call him something more like his own name. Like Jane, or Joan or something."

I smiled again. "No," I said, quietly but firmly. "He's going to be Charlotte!"

"Oh but Jen no!" she pleaded. "You can't expect him to agree to that."

"He's already agreed," I pointed out. "He said I could choose whatever I liked, and I like Charlotte!"

I was grinning madly by this stage, looking at them both standing in front of me; she, with helpless concern all over her face, and him looking totally crestfallen and defeated. There was no way, I was sure, that he was going to want to come into the den baring a name like Charlotte! It was a stroke of genius. We stood there for about a minute, an exquisite standoff which I was unwilling to break. Eventually I decided to press the issue to conclusion. I took the key to the door of our den out of my jeans pocket, and held it out in front of me, swinging it round and around my fingers.

"Well, what's it to be then?" I asked, smiling again. "Shall we go in then? But remember, once you're in there, you're going to be called Charlotte!"

His bottom lip quivered, and his mouth fell into a pout. This was brilliant; he was never going to want to come in now.

Still neither of them moved, or tried to say anything. "I really don't mind," I went on breezily, turning towards the door, and holding the key out in front of me. "If you want to come in, even just for a look, then you'll have to be Charlotte. Then that's what we'll call you for the rest of your life!"

"No!" I heard Katy protest. Hiding my amusement as best as I could, I turned around to answer her.

"What?" I demanded. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"Well it's not fair Jen!" she went on, pouting almost as much as him. "I mean, we can call him Charlotte today if you want, as a sort of initiation, but we can't call him it for the rest of his life; that's silly."

"No it's not!" I insisted. "If he wants to come in to the Wild Girls' den, then he's got to be a girl!"

She looked taken aback. "You said he had to pretend to be a girl, not really be one."

"It's the same thing," I snapped back. "He's got to pretend so well that it's real!"

She stared at me petulantly for a moment or two, and then looked away. "It's not fair," she mumbled, taking her hands of his shoulders, and folding her arms crossly in front of herself.

We were back to standoff. The boy still stared at me, with his big brown eyes looking sorrowful, and his mouth fixed in a silly pout.

"Well make up your mind," I demanded of him. "If you're happy to be a girl called Charlotte, you can come in. Otherwise, you might as well go home!" Still there was no answer or movement. "Shall I open the door then?" I teased, feeling extremely pleased with myself. I put the key into the padlock, and waited for the protests.

"All right," he suddenly piped. "I'll be Charlotte if you want. It's quite a nice name."

My mouth fell open. A nice name, how dare he? He was supposed to think it was the worst name he had ever heard, and now he had the gall to tell me it was a nice name. I decided to give him another chance. I turned to face him.

"As soon as this door opens," I explained to him with mock patience, "You're going to be a girl called Charlotte, not a boy called John. Do you understand that?"

He nodded.

"She means it John," Katy warned him from behind. "She will call you Charlotte for ever, I know what she's like."

His gaze held mine steadily. "I know," he said, without taking his eyes from me. "But it doesn't matter. Sticks and stones may break my bones," he recited in a silly singsong voice, "but names will never hurt me."

I was taken aback at his impudence. He was now daring me to carry out my threat. I seethed for a moment, and then decided that I bloody well would. He would be Charlotte forever, the cheeky little sod.

"Well if you're sure, Charlotte," I said to him, watching his big eyes flash in reaction to the name I had given him. "If you're sure you want to be a girl from now on." His eyes showed alarm pleasingly at the word 'girl' as well; he was going to regret this, I would make sure of that.

"I'm sure," he said, at last, his eyes, both proud and frightened staring back at me. I gritted my teeth. There was no way out of it now, for either of us. Turning back to the wooden door to the old shed that was our den, I unlocked the padlock, and pushed it open. The familiar woody smell filled my nostrils as I pulled the door back. It was dark inside, but there was a window running along one side of the shed that let in sufficient light once you were used to it. I walked on through, and waited for Katy and John; or rather Charlotte, to follow me.

He hesitated on the threshold of the shed, with its little step, painted black by Andrea and I some two years previously. I thought for a moment that he was having second thoughts, but he was just adjusting his eyes to the gloom. He stepped forward boldly into the sanctuary, followed by Katy, who shut the door behind her.

"Well this is it," she announced, fairly brightly. "The Wild Girls' den."

He was looking around at all the odds and sods we had gathered over the years and left in here; magazines, records, and a couple of photograph albums of our adventures. There were three old unmatched armchairs, rather dusty and smelly, around the outside of the room, and a threadbare rug in the middle. Dust floated around in the air as the sunlight filtered through the window.

"It's wonderful!" he cooed. I was pleased enough that he realised how special this place really was, but I still hated him for violating it, and especially for not being Andrea.

"Welcome Charlotte," I announced, in a voice that I hoped dripped with sarcasm. "Welcome to the Wild Girls' den."

His big brown eyes looked at me admonishly for a moment, and then he smiled. "Thank you, I'm honoured to be here."

I nearly choked at his reaction. He was supposed to be humiliated at being called Charlotte, and being treated as a girl. Instead, he was being polite, and shooting 'Like me' arrows out of his eyes at me. It might work on Katy, I thought, but it would never work on me. Grumpily, I grabbed a magazine at random from the shelves, sat down with a thump in one of the armchairs, and made a show of reading it.

"Come on," said Katy, moving around him. "I'll show you some of the stuff."

"Remember his name's Charlotte!" I reminded her testily.

"Yes all right," she responded. "Come on, come and have a look at this."

She spent the next few minutes showing him all the stuff in our little den, the ornaments we had collected, the mementos of some of our adventures. I turned the pages of the old magazine as noisily as I could, particularly when Katy seemed to be sharing with him more than he deserved.

"And these are some photos," she said, reaching up for one of the albums. "This is good, you'll be able to see Andrea as well."

"No!" I shouted. "Don't let him see those!"

Katy looked at me. "Why not?"

I was at a loss for an answer to put into words for a moment. "Because he shouldn't," was all I could put forward.

"Well excuse me!" she said, pushily. "They're as much mine as yours, and I think he should see them!"
I glared at her, daring her to defy my ban. "We always said they were just for us to see; just for the Wild Girls." I told her.

"Well he's a Wild Girl now!" she said, triumphantly. "You said that yourself. You said if he allowed us to call him Charlotte, and pretended to be a girl, he'd be one of us!"

This cornered me. I could hardly pretend that he wasn't called Charlotte, or wasn't really a girl at all without loosing the whole game. Furious, I pretended to turn my attention back to the magazine, and let them get on with it.

"Okay then," Katy began. "Let's look at these, Charlotte!" The last word was especially loud, and aimed at me. They looked over the photographs, Katy laughing at our shared memories of when Andrea had been with us, and relating to him some of the scrapes we had got ourselves into. Once or twice, I nearly butted in to correct her. It was me, not Andrea who had thought of the idea of stealing Mr. Burns' apples! How could she have forgotten! But I kept my peace. There was no way I was going to get involved in this violation of our sacred place, and the even more sacred memory of Andrea.

After what had seemed an age, they finished with the album, and Katy stood up to put it back on the rickety old shelf. I decided that the time had come to end this.

"Right," I announced, standing up from the chair. "We'd better go now, it's getting late."

"But there's plenty more to show him yet!" Katy protested.

"Well tough luck," I muttered. "It's time to go. Charlotte's Mummy will be wondering where she's got to!"

He battered his eyelashes at me and looked hurt as I said this, and I smiled in pleasure.

"Well surely we could look at one more album!" Katy went on.

"No," he said quietly. "She's probably right Katy. My Mum will be getting a bit worried I should think."

"Yes," I confirmed. "You know how the mothers of little girls tend to worry!"

Katy looked crestfallen. "Well all right," she said. "But we'll come back tomorrow and I'll show you the rest!"

"Oh yes please!" he said enthusiastically.

It was my turn to be crestfallen. All of this was supposed to put him off coming here again; calling him Charlotte, and insisting he was a girl; I wasn't about to give him carte blanche to invade our den again, even if he had fallen for my trap.

"No," I said.

They both looked at me. "What do you mean?" Katy asked. "He can come if he wants."

"No he can't." I insisted.

She looked confused. "But he's done what you asked Jen! He's let you call him Charlotte, and he's pretended to be a girl."

"Well he's not done a very good job of it," I spat. "He doesn't look like a girl to me."

Katy looked at him, and then back at me. "That's not fair Jen. He's done really well. I mean, what did you expect? Did you expect him to grow his hair out really long in half an hour or something like that?"

My face burned at her sarcasm.

"Or maybe you thought he could grow instant boobs," she continued, and obviously noticing my discomfort. She stared at me levelly for a moment. "Although to be honest Jen, he's more or less the same size as you anyway."

This was outrageous. She knew I was self conscious about the size of my boobs. All the other girls at school had developed considerably over the past year or so, while I had been left behind. Even now, although I had been having periods for about a year, I could only boast some modest swellings. My eyes burned with fury at her, for breaking the bonds of sisterhood just to defend some boy.

I steadied myself before replying; she should not see how upset I was by her jibe. "Well I don't think he's made much of an effort at all," I went on. "He's let us call him Charlotte, but apart from that, he still looks just like a boy to me."

"So what did you want him to do?" Katy demanded. "Borrow my skirt or something?"

"Well it would be a start," I snapped back. We glared at each other, ignoring the boy entirely, and both defiant.

Eventually she looked away. "Well it would hardly be fair to make him wear a skirt," she muttered. "We hardly ever do."

"You did today," I reminded her. I was sure that had more to do with a boy moving into the street than she would readily admit.

"Yes, but you never do!" she accused me. "Why should he have to wear a skirt when you don't?"

"Because he's a pretend girl," I snapped back. "Pretend girls have to wear skirts, so you know they're pretending to be girls. Real girls can wear what they like!"

I was rather pleased with this on the spot bit of logic, and returned her furious stare. Her mouth tightened. "Well if that's what you want, I'll lend him a skirt for tomorrow!"

She obviously didn't understand boys as well as she thought she did. I knew that a boy would never willingly wear a skirt, or anything else that smacked of femininity. I smiled at her. "And you think he's going to agree to that do you?"

Her eyes betrayed her doubt. "Yes," she said uncertainly. "Of course he will."

I glanced over at the boy, who now looked decidedly uncomfortable with the turn of events, shuffling from foot to foot. I returned my gaze to Katy and smiled.

"Well, if you think you can persuade him, then he's welcome. Otherwise this den is just for the two of us, and Andrea, when she comes back to visit!"

Katy's eyes dropped, recognising defeat.

"Right, well I'm going home," I announced. "I'll leave you two girls to lock up." I pushed my face right into the boys to say the word 'girls', and got a thrill to see him flinch at both my gesture and my choice of words. I walked out of the door, and through the woods back to our little street, feeling rather pleased with myself. I had entirely outfaced Katy, and her ridiculous attempts at friendship with the new boy, and I had totally made sure he would never want to come into our den again. Apart from the absence of Andrea, I was happy. I spent the rest of the day at home, listening to records and watching TV. I decided that the following morning, if I could be bothered, I would go around to Katy's house, and make up with her. Once she got over her stupid desire to be friends with this pathetic boy, we could be friends again.

  

  

  

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