Ethan’s World

by Daphne Childress

Ethan Martin and his mother live a simple life in a small Southern town... with a twist: She makes dresses to pay the bills and he helps out as best he can.

Chapter Ten: A Day in Daisies

Put Ethan and Dani together and let the fun begin!

Ethan stared out the car window, arms folded tight against the shirred bodice of his sundress. Light blue cotton clung to his torso like it had nowhere better to be, the yellow daisy trim winking in the reflection. His bare shoulders felt too visible. His knees stuck awkwardly together. And with every bump in the road, the plastic flower on his right sandal wiggled like it was mocking him.

“This is happening more and more,” he muttered.

Colleen, focused on the road, gave him a half-listening hum. “Hmm?”

“Every time I’m in the middle of cleaning, or you’ve got me up on that dumb stool hemming something, something comes up and I end up going out dressed like this.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she said breezily, not sounding sorry at all. “But when opportunity knocks, I have to answer. This could be a major account. And our big break. I can’t exactly take you to a buyer meeting right now.” She glanced at him. “And besides, you look darling.”

“I look like a boy in a dress.”

“Well… yes,” she said cheerfully. She reached over and adjusted the yellow hairband atop his dark brown hair. “But you look like a very tidy boy in a well-pressed dress, so at least I’m not ashamed to drop you off.”

He groaned and slumped lower in the seat.

* * *

Dani’s house had a wide backyard with patchy grass, an old rope swing that nobody trusted anymore, and two rusted soccer goals shoved into opposite corners. Ethan stood in the middle of it now, blinking against the sun, trying to kick the ball with his sandal without skinning the top of his toes.

Dani darted past him, hair tied up in a messy ponytail, jean shorts hanging off one hip like a pirate’s sash. She snatched the ball mid-roll and gave it a crisp pass back with the side of her foot.

“You’re kicking like a duck,” she called.

“I’m trying,” Ethan hissed. “These stupid sandals--”

“Hey,” she grinned. “You picked ‘em.”

“I did not pick them.”

She danced around him, juggling the ball once, twice, before bouncing it off her thigh and letting it drop. “Well, you’re wearing ‘em. And I gotta say, the little flower on your toe is doing the most work.”

“Shut up, Dani.”

From the kitchen window, a figure leaned out: short-cropped auburn hair, cat-eye glasses, a bright pink top so skimpy it might’ve been stolen from a Vegas lounge act.

“You two keep it civil out there,” Aunt DeeDee called. “And no crying, Little Mister. That dress doesn’t need salt stains.”

“I am not crying,” Ethan yelled back.

“I didn’t say you were,” she replied sweetly, then ducked back inside with a little laugh.

* * *

The crunching of sneakers on gravel made them both turn. Two boys--older than Ethan, younger than Dani--wandered in through the side gate. Both wore soccer jerseys and that cocky, shoulder-swinging walk that boys seem to develop the moment they win something, even if it’s just an argument with their kid brother.

“Hey Dani!” one of them called. “You coming to the field later?”

“Maybe,” she said, catching the ball and tucking it under one arm. “Depends.”

The other boy--slightly taller, freckles, chewing gum like it owed him money--spotted Ethan.

“Who’s the girl?”

Dani smirked. “That’s my cousin Ethan.”

The gum-chewer squinted. “Ethan? Wait… that’s a boy?”

The other one laughed. “You serious? Dude, he’s wearing a dress.”

Ethan’s mouth opened but no words came out. He looked down. The sundress, the sandals, his bare shoulders and arms. The shame came boiling up in an instant.

“Is he like… in trouble or something?” the gum-chewer asked. “Is this a dare?”

“Nope,” Dani said casually. “That’s just how he dresses now.”

“I do not!” Ethan shouted, fists clenched.

“Aww, don’t get mad, princess,” the first boy jeered. “We were just admiring your style. Love the little daisies. Very brave.”

The gum snapped. “Bet he’s got panties on too.”

“Oh he does,” Dani added with a grin. “Trust me. And they’re pretty cute, too.”

Ethan turned scarlet. “Dani!”

“This I gotta see.” Gum-chewer moved close to the cross-dressed boy, skirt-flipping mode engaged.

Dani wasn’t laughing anymore. She dropped the ball and stepped forward, square to the two boys, arms crossed.

“You know what?” she said coolly. “Fun’s over. Y’all can leave.”

“Aw, relax,” the boy said. “We’re just messing around.”

Dani’s eyes narrowed. “You mess with him, you mess with me.”

There was a pause. The gum stopped snapping.

“Wait,” the taller boy said slowly. “You’re serious? About… him?”

“I’m serious about not letting two little wannabe midfielders come into my yard and bully my cousin. Get. Out. Now.”

“You defending him?” he sneered. “In a dress?”

“And panties?” the other boy said, laughing.

“Say it again.” Dani stepped closer, toe to toe. “Say it. I could break both your ankles before you finish the sentence. Try me.”

They looked at her. Looked at each other. Decided maybe the field wasn’t that fun today after all.

“We’ll catch you later, Dani,” one muttered, turning.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Don’t forget to tie your shoelaces, or my sissy cousin might trip you on the way out.”

The gate clicked shut behind them.

* * *

Ethan sat on the porch steps, head in hands, sandals kicked off beside him. Dani joined him with a pair of popsicles she’d stolen from the freezer.

“Here,” she said, handing one over.

He took it, muttered thanks, and slid off the wrapper. It was yellow, of course. Like the daisies on his dress.

“I’m never wearing this again,” he said. “Ever.”

“Oh, I doubt that,” Dani said, stretching out her legs. “But c’mon, Sissy, you have to admit you do look kind of cute. Like a daisy-themed lemonade ad.”

“I hate you.”

“You say that a lot.”

There was a long pause, the breeze ruffling the hem of Ethan’s dress like a teasing fingertip.

“Thanks,” he said at last.

Dani shrugged. “They were jerks.”

“They were your teammates.”

“Exactly. My teammates. Not flesh and blood family. Which means I get to make fun of you. And flip up your skirt. Not them.”

Ethan almost smiled.

Aunt DeeDee stepped outside with a cigarette tucked behind her ear, cat-eye sunglasses on, and a bottle of root beer held like a trophy.

“Boys gone?”

“Yep,” Dani said.

“Good. I didn’t want to deal with a turf war over panties.”

“I’m not wearing--,” Ethan mumbled.

“Say it.” Dani shot him a look that gave him a shiver. “Say it, Sissy, and you’ll be upside down in two seconds and we’ll all get a good look at what’s really covering your fat little butt.”

The cross-dressed boy sighed. “I just wish you guys would stop saying that word.”

His cousin nudged him. “And what word is that, Sissy?”

He sighed again. “Never mind.”

“Oh don’t be so touchy, Princess,” DeeDee said, settling onto a lounge chair. She ran the cold base of the root beer bottle over her chest. “You’re just too adorable for your own good. Kind of like a junior bridesmaid who got lost on the way to church camp.”

“Mom said you’d be nice.”

“I am being nice,” DeeDee said with a grin. “You’re not in tears, are you?”

“No…”

“Then I’m nicer than my sisters were to me. Your mom wasn’t too bad, but Vivian could be a real bee-otch.” She paused, took a swig and wiped her mouth with the back of her arm. Dani giggled.

“Anyway, you’ve got your cousin here. She’ll keep the wolves at bay.”

“Dang right,” Dani muttered, kicking her foot up onto the railing.

Ethan took lick of his lemon popsicle. The sun was still too bright, and the hem of his dress tickled his knees every time he moved. But the boys were gone, Dani was beside him, and Aunt DeeDee had only mildly roasted him instead of serving him on a spit.

It wasn’t perfect.

But it was home.

* * *

The rain started after lunch. At first it was soft, just a hush against the roof of Aunt DeeDee’s kitchen, but by two o’clock it had turned steady--windows streaked, the swing set puddled, and the soccer ball outside sitting in a lonely bath of muddy water.

Ethan stood at the window, arms folded, one bare foot tapping against the linoleum. He still hadn’t changed out of the blue sundress with the daisy trim. He kept telling himself he should ask to borrow something less… prissy?... to wear, but then the rain had started… and somehow it just didn’t seem worth the fight.

Dani sat at the kitchen table, shuffling a deck of cards one-handed while balancing a spoonful of peanut butter in the other.

“I say we play for stakes,” she said, flipping a card into the air and catching it with a slap.

“I don’t gamble,” Ethan muttered, still watching the rain.

“Gambling? Please,” Dani said. “This is justice through card-based redistribution of labor.”

“English, please?”

Aunt DeeDee appeared in the doorway with a dish towel over one shoulder and a glint in her eye. “She means you do the chores if you lose.”

“What chores?”

“Oh, just a little list I’ve been meaning to get around to,” DeeDee said casually, walking past with her root beer. “But I suppose if Dani loses, she gets to do them instead.”

Ethan turned, alarmed. “Wait, I don't even live here! I’m just waiting until my mom comes to take me home.”

DeeDee grinned. “Then you’ve got nothing to lose. Unless you lose.”

Minutes later, the dining room had been transformed into a battlefield.

Dani had cleared off the placemats, lit a single candle--for ambience, she said--and shuffled the cards like she’d been born in a riverboat casino. Ethan sat across from her on a kitchen chair that felt too slippery under his thighs. The skirt of his sundress fanned neatly around him, and his bare arms felt oddly exposed on the table.

Aunt DeeDee reclined nearby in a plush armchair with a knitting project she had no intention of completing.

“All right,” Dani said, tapping the stack. “We’ll play three rounds. War. Highest card wins the hand. Best two out of three gets bragging rights and”--she paused for dramatic effect-- “freedom from Aunt DeeDee’s Chore Gauntlet.”

“What’s in the gauntlet?” Ethan asked nervously.

Dani grinned. “Oh, she hasn’t said.”

“I feel like that’s important information.”

“That’s what makes it fun,” DeeDee said sweetly, taking another swig of her root beer.

The first round began. Dani flipped her card: queen of spades.

Ethan flipped his: seven of diamonds.

“Awwww,” Dani drawled. “That’s rough, sweetheart.”

Aunt DeeDee clapped softly. “One for Dani. Let’s hope the little mister pulls through in the next hand.”

Ethan grumbled and picked at the hem of his skirt.

Round two.

Dani: nine of hearts.

Ethan: king of clubs.

“YES!” he cried, springing up slightly in his chair before remembering the bounce made his dress fly up.

“Well done,” DeeDee said. “The king protects his kingdom--albeit in sandals with daisies.”

Dani rolled her eyes and gave him a slow clap. “Don’t get cocky, flower boy. Last round. Winner takes… freedom from all the chores.”

They drew.

Dani: jack of diamonds.

Ethan: six of clubs.

Silence.

Dani leaned back and whistled. “Looks like I get the afternoon off.”

Ethan slumped forward, groaning into his arms.

Aunt DeeDee stood, stretching. “And now the curtain rises on today’s performance: Little Mister Does the Housework.”

Ethan was issued an apron--DeeDee’s old one from years ago, frilly pink with faded cartoon lemons and the phrase “Squeeze Me!” embroidered across the chest. She tied it with a proud little tug at the back.

“You’re not really making me do all this,” Ethan said as she handed him a handwritten list on a pink index card.

“I’m not,” she said innocently. “The cards are. I’m just the instrument.”

Dani, now lounging on the couch with a comic book, added, “Don’t forget to curtsy when you bring her another root beer later. I’ll take one, too.”

Ethan looked down the list:

• Dust bookshelves (“Use feather duster, not your sleeve!”)

• Sweep and mop hallway

• Wipe the baseboards in the living room, hallway and bedrooms.

• Wash and put away dishes from lunch

• Fold and stack kitchen linens

• Clean bathrooms

“Clean both bathrooms, too? No fair!” he protested. “This is a whole day’s work!”

“Better get started then,” DeeDee said, tossing him a pair of ruffled rubber gloves.

Ethan moved through the tasks like a reluctant ballerina--light on his feet, heavy on the sighs. His daisy-trimmed sundress swished every time he bent down to clean baseboards, and Dani seemed to find new things to say with every passing minute.

“You missed a spot,” she said, flicking a crumb toward the floor.

“I hate you.”

“You already told me that.”

Aunt DeeDee wandered in from time to time to inspect, hands clasped like a judge on a cooking show. “Very nice work on the dishes,” she’d say. “Though you did leave a water spot on the mixing bowl. That’ll cost you.”

Ethan was red-faced as he cleaned the bathrooms. “Yikes. I thought girls were neater--and cleaner--than boys. I guess not.”

“Hey, don’t judge!” DeeDee said. “We just don’t have as high a standard as somebody who wears rose-print panties.”

“Aunt DeeDee!” he tugged the hem of his dress down over his bottom. “You’re not supposed to look!”

“And I thought you were supposed to be more ladylike,” she quipped. “I guess not.”

Both DeeDee and Dani were impressed as he finished up the last item--folding the freshly laundered linens. He took his time, lining up the corners just so, smoothing the edges like he was performing femininity itself.

“You know,” Dani mused, watching from the couch, “you fold those way better than I ever do.”

DeeDee nodded. “Better than me, even.”

“I hate that that’s true,” Ethan muttered.

With the last item placed on the shelf, Ethan sank onto the kitchen bench, exhausted and flustered.

Aunt DeeDee brought him a bottle of root beer and a glass filled with ice. She kissed the top of his head, and said, “Well done, Princess. You’re a regular domestic delight.”

“I want a rematch tomorrow,” Ethan said, sipping grumpily.

“Oh you’ll get it,” Dani said. “And this time we play Go Fish.”

A beat passed.

“Loser has to iron.”

Ethan groaned.

Outside, the rain had started to slow, the soft patter against the windows easing into silence. But inside, the storm of teasing, chores, and kinship remained--tied together with apron strings, lemon embroidery, and one boy in a sundress who couldn’t quite decide if he hated it as much as he claimed.

Next, Mama’s Boy, Part Two