Being Andy

Chapter 2: The Transition

Chapter 2  

The Transition 

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"No," I protested, holding my hair in my hands. "There is no way in hell that I'm cutting my hair." 

"Oh, come on, Andy," Lucas rolled his eyes. "Its just hair; it'll grow back." 

"No, I don't care," I said stubbornly. "Nobody's touching my hair, okay? I'm serious - this is the first time since I was nine that I let my hair grow because mom used to make me cut it, remember?" 

"Don't worry, Andy, it won't be so bad," Paul tried to comfort me, scissors still in hand. 

"Nu-uh," I shook my head. "I. Am not. Cutting. My hair. 'Kay?" 

Lucas huffed in frustration. "God, you are such a - a - girl!" 

I had to raise an eyebrow at that comment, but otherwise didn't say anything. 

"Okay, how about we get you a wig?" Paul suggested. "I work at the hair dresser anyway so it won't be a big deal." 

I looked at Lucas with a hopeful look, waiting for him to agree. He narrowed his eyes at me and, knowing I wasn't going to budge, he sighed in defeat. "Okay fine. But don't come crying to me if the wig came off and you got caught." 

"It won't come off and I won't get caught," I promised him, feeling pleased. 

"Okay," Lucas continued. "Next is the uniform." 

I groaned at the mention of that. I hated uniforms. Even the school I'd attended in New York didn't have a uniform. I saw that the school in England which I was going to get sent to also had a uniform - and it was hideous. Plaid red-and-green tartan skirt that reached below your knees, a green blazer, white shirt, and red tie. The colors clashed horrendously, and I was glad that at least boys didn't have to wear skirts. 

"Its not so bad," Paul reassured me as he pulled a uniform out of a bag. It consisted of beige pants, a light blue button-up shirt, a dark blue blazer with the Cosmo insignia on the left side, and a red tie with yellow side stripes. It wasn't so bad; at least it was more presentable. 

"Okay," Lucas laid out the uniform on the couch for me to wear when we head to the school tomorrow. Turning to Paul, he said, "What about the..." he trailed off, using his hand to gesture to my chest. I narrowed my eyes at his, pulling my jacket close and folding my arms over my chest, feeling exposed. 

"Oh, that's no problem," Paul shrugged. He headed towards the kitchen, pulled open a cabinet, got something out of it, and headed back to us. In his hands were a bunch of medical gauzes. "Here," he handed the seven pairs over to me. "Just wrap these around your chest tightly." 

"Okay," I put them away in my duffel bag. "But what do I do if a need more of these? I don't know my way around Chicago to buy more." 

"When you run out just call Lucas and I'll bring more in," he told me. "There's a drugstore not far from here so I could get you ones instantly. Speaking of which," he headed to the door and grabbed a jacket off the coat rack, "I'm headed to get you an options of wigs to choose from." 

"Cool," I shrugged. When Paul left, I turned to Lucas. "So, what's next?" 

"You need to act like a guy," Lucas said. "First, we don't walk all gracefully like you do." I gave him a look, but he ignored it. "And when you talk, you need to lower your voice so it doesn't sound too high." 

"Okay, how about," I cleared my throat, and deepened my voice, and said, "Yeah, man! Football! Girls! Sex! That's the guy's life, man." 

"That's just insulting," Lucas shook his head at me, causing me laugh. "Say that again and you'll be kicked out on the first day."