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 Thirty-Seven: The Dare

Ethan takes on a dare… and has second thoughts.
 

The autumn sun poured through the kitchen window, casting sharp rectangles of gold on the worn linoleum floor. Ethan sat at the table, slouched in a sleeveless white blouse with little embroidered cherries near the collar and a hot pink cotton skirt with the same cherries along the hem, both of which he and Colleen had made as an experiment—their newest sewing machine had all sorts of embroidery settings, giving some new options to offer on their dresses.

A pair of simple white canvas slip-on shoes—his mother called them his "espadrilles"—adorned Ethan’s bare feet. His natural dark brown hair had been tamed with his mother’s conditioner and a brush, then combed behind his ears, exposing his neck and profile in a way that made him twitchy and self-conscious.

Dani sat across from him, legs kicked up on another chair, gnawing on a celery stick like it had done her wrong. “Y’know,” she said, crunching slowly, “something’s still missing.”

Ethan sighed. “Is it my dignity? Because I’m pretty sure you took that last week.”

“Nope.” Another chomp. She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes like a judge at a dog show inspecting a nervous poodle. “I’m thinking earrings.”

He blinked. “Earrings?”

“Yeah. Like little studs. Or hoops. Or even those tiny dangly ones that look like stars or butterflies or—I dunno—ballerinas.”

“You mean… get my ears pierced?” Ethan frowned and turned his head away. “No way!”

“Yes way!” Dani hooted. “Aw, c’mon, Sissy, after all you’ve been through, it makes sense.”

“I already wear earrings, Dani! I don’t need to get pierced.”

Dani leaned in with a grin. “That’s not the point, Emily.”

Colleen’s voice floated in from the living room, too casually: “You do have the lobes for it, sweetie.”

Ethan flushed. “Mom!”

“Oh hush, I’m just saying.”

Dani waggled her brows. “So here’s the deal. I dare you. Two real piercings. No more clip-ons. We get Aunt Colleen to take us over to that mall in Meadowbrook and let one of those high school girls do it.”

“I’m in,” Colleen called out. “Just say the word.”

“See? We can be there in fifteen, twenty minutes.” Dani grinned. “But if we do this you gotta wear them for—hmmm—three days. Including school.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “No way. Everybody will laugh at me. I’ll have to move to Australia!”

Dani smirked. “What’s the matter, Princess? Afraid someone’s gonna mistake you for a girl?”

Ethan crossed his arms. “They already do.”

“Exactly.” She stood, tossing her celery stick into the trash. “So lean in. Make it official.”

He stared at her. “You really want me to do this?”

“Oh, I dare you to.” She drew the word out like taffy. “Double-dog dare, even.”

Ethan shifted in his seat. His ears tingled a little at the thought. There was something strangely thrilling about the idea—like letting another door creak open. He looked down at his hands. His nails were still short, but his mother had buffed them smooth that morning. He kind of liked that, too.

“…what if I wore my hair down?” he mumbled. “It’d cover them.”

Dani snorted. “You? Keep your hair brushed all day? Doubt it.”

Colleen walked in, coffee in hand, feigning innocence. “I could write you a note. Say it’s part of your modeling contract.”

Ethan groaned. “You’re both crazy.”

“But we’re fashionable,” she said with a wink.

“Exactly!” Dani said, grabbing Ethan by the wrist and pulling him up. “C’mon, Sissy. Let’s go to the mall and stare at the display until you cave.”

“And if I say no?”

“I’ll tell everyone about your collection of panties and bras.”

That sent a chill down Ethan’s spine. “That’s blackmail!”

“It’s also a compliment.”

Ethan huffed and let himself be dragged toward the door, but paused on the threshold. “Only if I get to pick the earrings.”

“Deal,” Dani said. “But they gotta sparkle.”

Colleen put down her mug and picked up her purse. “My little twinkle boy.”

 

* * *
 

The mall smelled like cinnamon sugar, recycled air, and regret.

Ethan looked down at the cherries decorating his blouse and skirt—they’d left in such a hurry he’d forgotten to change—and gritted his teeth as they approached the bright pink kiosk wedged between a Bath & Bubbles and a discount shoe store. The kiosk’s sign read “Earring Emporium: Sparkle Starts Here!” in a loopy purple font. A ring of white lights blinked merrily around a mirror lined with earring sample cards: rainbows, unicorns, stars, fairies, faux diamonds, and tiny butterflies.

Dani practically skipped ahead, her sneakers squeaking against the tile. “Ooh, this is gonna be so good,” she said. “Do you want the unicorns or the fairies?”

“I want to go home,” Ethan muttered. He tugged at the hem of his skirt, feeling all eyes on him, even though in reality no one was looking.

A young woman behind the counter glanced up from her phone. She looked no older than eighteen, bored and mildly amused by the world. “Need a piercing?”

“Yup,” Dani chirped, nudging Ethan forward. “Both ears. He’s a little shy.”

Ethan stepped forward, glancing around. There weren’t too many people nearby—just a mom wrangling twin toddlers and a pair of high school boys pawing through the belt rack two booths down. Still, he felt like every fluorescent light was aimed directly at him.

The girl, whose name tag read “Amber – Assistant Sparkle Specialist,” looked Ethan over with practiced indifference. “You eighteen?”

“He’s thirteen,” Dani said, her arm around her cousin’s shoulder, not so much in support but to keep him from running off.

Amber blinked, then shrugged. “Need a guardian signature.”

Before Ethan could even blink, there she was.

Colleen appeared like a sitcom entrance cue, sunglasses perched in her hair, purse slung over one arm. “Oh, I thought I’d wander this way,” she said sweetly. “Need someone to sign a form?”

Ethan groaned. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I took a shortcut through the linen store. Smelled the fear.”

Dani snorted and held up a card of silver heart studs. “These. Simple. Sparkly. Not too girly—except they totally are.”

Amber handed Colleen a waiver form and gestured to the pink salon chair set to one side. Ethan sat gingerly, his heart pounding like he was awaiting execution.

“Relax,” Amber said, snapping on gloves. “You want it even? Marked?”

“Yes,” Dani said.

“No,” Ethan said.

Colleen raised an eyebrow. “Let her mark them, sweetie. Trust the process.”

Amber swabbed his ears with cool antiseptic and drew a tiny dot on each lobe. Ethan winced. “That’s… kind of high.”

“It’ll settle,” Amber muttered. “Now hold still.”

He closed his eyes.

There was a click—a sharp pop—and a sting. Then another.

“…Ow,” he whispered.

“Done,” Amber said, already peeling off her gloves. “You’re officially pierced and sparkly. Clean them with the solution twice a day. Don’t sleep on your side. Don’t take them out for six weeks unless you want the holes to close.”

Ethan reached up and touched his ears. The hearts felt tiny. Barely there. But also like… everything.

Colleen crouched beside him and tilted her head, inspecting. “You look darling.”

While she paid, Dani took out her phone and snapped a photo before Ethan could swat it away. “You look awesome. And pathetic. In equal measure.”

He stared into the mirror behind the kiosk. His reflection looked mostly the same. Same hesitant eyes. Same slouch. Same tousled hair. But now—two delicate glints of silver.

Two little choices.

Two little yeses.

“C’mon, Sissy,” Dani said, grabbing his arm. “Let’s find you a matching necklace.”

He didn’t answer, but he followed. He always did.

 

* * *
 

The bathroom was quiet, save for the rhythmic swish of the hairbrush and the soft splash of water in the ceramic bowl beside the sink.

Ethan sat on the closed lid of the toilet, shoulders hunched, a white hand towel draped over his pajama top like a bib. His knees knocked slightly beneath his cotton sleep pants. The little silver heart studs twinkled faintly under the overhead light each time he flinched.

Colleen stood behind him, sleeves rolled to her elbows, cotton ball in hand, the bottle of antiseptic glinting beside the bowl. Her hair was tied back with a pink satin ribbon she swore wasn’t hers but somehow always ended up around the house.

“Turn your head, baby,” she murmured, her voice the soft weapon she always deployed when he was most vulnerable.

Ethan sighed through his nose and did as he was told, baring his left ear.

Colleen dabbed the cotton around the stud with slow, practiced care. “No redness. That’s good.”

“Can I take them out next week?” he asked, knowing the answer.

“Absolutely not.” Dab. Twist. “They’ll close up. You’ll thank me later.”

He grumbled something unintelligible.

“What was that?”

“I said I don’t think I’m going to thank you.”

She smiled without looking at him. “That’s all right. I don’t do it for gratitude. I do it for style points.”

He rolled his eyes.

She switched ears. Her fingers brushed the back of his neck as she tilted his head gently to the other side.

“You were so brave today,” she said quietly. “Even with Dani giggling the whole time.”

“She was snorting, not giggling.”

“She snorts when she’s delighted. It’s very charming.”

Ethan made a face, but didn’t pull away.

Colleen continued, a little more slowly this time. “I know it’s scary sometimes, doing these little things. Even the silly things. But every time you say yes, every time you lean in just a little... you grow.” Her voice dipped. “Not into someone else. Just into more of who you already are.”

He swallowed. The antiseptic tingled. He didn't know what to say.

So, naturally, she said something completely unexpected.

“You know, when I was your age, I got my ears pierced at home. Your Auntie Vivian did it with a sewing needle and an ice cube.”

Ethan blinked. “You’re kidding. Did it hurt?”

“What do you think?” Collen sniffed. “I still haven’t forgiven her for it.”

“Wow.”

“Wow, indeed. Just think how lucky you are, having the benefit of a licensed Sparkle Specialist.”

He groaned. “Mommm …”

She chuckled and wiped her hands on the towel. “All done, my love. They’re adorable.”

He got up and looked in the mirror. The silver hearts caught the light and winked at him. Subtle. Dainty. Almost... sweet.

“Do they look too girly?”

Colleen stood behind him, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder. “No. They look like you. My sweet, soft boy with a brave little edge.”

“…You’re really gonna make me cry,” he muttered.

She kissed his lips and whispered, “Only a little.”

 

* * *
 

The house had settled into its nighttime rhythm—floorboards creaking with memory, wind brushing lazy fingers against the glass. Down the hall, Colleen was humming faintly as she took her bath, the tune meandering and wordless, like a lullaby that had forgotten the child it was meant for.

Ethan lay beneath the covers, both hands drifting up—again—to the warm little knot of sensation on his earlobes. The studs were still there. Still foreign. Still real.

He touched one. Then the other.

They both tingled.

He sighed.

It wasn’t pain exactly. Just awareness. A reminder that something was different.

The room around him looked the same—curtains drawn, slippers kicked halfway under the bed, his folded shorts still hanging off the back of the chair. But somehow, he didn’t feel the same. Not quite.

He rolled to his back, staring up at the ceiling.

Voices replayed in his head like a song stuck in a loop:

“C’mon, Sissy…”

“As long as they sparkle…”

“She calls you Sissy ‘cause you’re all she’s got. She loves you.”

He smiled. Just a little. Then frowned again, uncertain what the smile meant.

Was it weird that he liked how it looked?

That the tingling made him feel seen, even with no one around?

His fingers brushed the earrings again. Then the other one. He thought about how his mother acted, how she was as proud of them as Dani was. It was as though he’d been marked for life:

“My sweet, soft boy… my sparkle boy.”

The words made him blush.

Symmetrical. Balanced. Like parentheses around a thought he hadn’t quite dared to finish.

He closed his eyes and pulled the blanket up to his chin.

“…Sparkle starts here,” he whispered to no one.

And for the first time in days, he fell asleep without a worry.

 

* * *
 

Ethan lingered by the lockers a little longer than usual, pretending to sort his folders even though his backpack was already zipped and slung over one shoulder.

His hair—longer now, thanks to Colleen’s “we’re just letting it grow out naturally” plan—had been carefully brushed and parted to cover his ears. Not too neatly. Casual. Boyish, technically. But the heart studs beneath pulsed with heat, as though they were somehow broadcasting through the strands.

He could feel them.

He could feel the weight of eyes. Or imagined he could.

Three kids brushed past him, laughing about something unrelated. One glanced at him. Ethan ducked his head. Had they seen? Heard?

Would they care?

He slipped into homeroom and took his usual seat by the window, resting his cheek on one hand like he always did. The earring pressed against his palm. He winced.

Mrs. Campbell walked by, handing out a schedule that overrode the previous schedule. She paused by his desk, smiling sweetly.

“Good morning, Ethan,” she said. Her face took on a studious look. “Hmm, there’s something different about you this morning.”

He looked up at her, waiting for the shoe to drop.

“Oh, I know what it is,” she said, laughing.

Here it comes, he thought. She’s gonna say it in front of the whole class and I’ll be ruined.

“You actually combed your hair for once. Way to go, Ethan!”

In second period Lucy Carruthers, sitting at the next desk, glanced over. Blinked. Paused.

Ethan shifted his hand quickly, let it drop to the desk.

She didn’t say anything. Just blinked again and turned away.

His heart thumped.

By third period, the panic had faded slightly. Enough to realize no one was pointing. No one was laughing. Most of them hadn’t noticed. And the ones who did seemed unsure what it meant.

Which meant he got to define it.

That was new.

 

* * *
 

Claire adjusted the strap of her purse and squinted at Dani. “Wait… earrings? Ethan got his ears pierced?”

Dani grinned like the cat that had not only eaten the canary but climbed atop the highest fence post and boasted about it.

“Yup. Both. Tiny silver hearts. Sparkle sparkle.”

Claire’s eyes widened. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. I double-dog dared him.”

“You dared him?”

“And he did it. Like a little champ.”

Claire paused, then laughed. “Wow. I didn’t think he had it in him.”

“Oh, he does. He just needs a nudge. Or a gentle shove off a glitter-covered cliff.”

Claire tilted her head, a tiny smile creeping across her face. “I kinda want to see.”

“He’s been trying to hide them. Hair down. Slouching more than usual. Classic Sissy.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “You still call him that?”

Dani shrugged. “It's family tradition. And my way of showing affection. And because he looks at me like a kicked puppy every time I say it, which is hilarious.”

Claire hesitated. “You really think he’s okay with it?”

Dani stopped walking for a moment. “If he wasn’t, I’d stop. Or at least switch to ‘Your Majesty.’ He knows.”

Claire bit her lip, then grinned. “Well… if he’s got the guts to wear earrings to school, maybe I need to step up my game.”

Dani gave her a sideways look. “Are you crushing on my sissy?”

“Maybe.” Claire’s voice was light, but her cheeks were a little pink. “Depends on whether he wears a matching bracelet.”

Dani cackled. “Ohhh, I cannot wait to tell him that.”

Claire smirked. “Don’t you dare.”

“No promises.”

 

* * *
 

Ethan sat on the couch pretending to read while also pretending he wasn’t obsessively checking the alignment of his hair in reflection the compact mirror he had hidden in his book. He kept tucking his locks over his ears, then untucking them, then sighing. His silver heart earrings—cleaned, dried, and still slightly sore—twinkled with every twitch.

He didn’t hear Dani come in until her gym bag dropped beside him with a thud.

“Hey, Sparkles.”

He groaned. “Please don’t call me that.”

“Why not? It’s adorable. Besides, you earned it.”

She flopped down next to him and yanked a juice box from her bag like it was a victory trophy. “So. You survived school. Any meltdowns? Bathroom mirror check-ins? Accidental sparkle reveals?”

He kept his eyes on the book. “No one said anything.”

“Really?” Dani grinned. “Well, somebody noticed.”

Ethan looked up.

She sipped her juice loudly. “Claire.”

“…Claire?”

“She was very interested. Shocked, even. In a good way.”

He flushed. “What did she say?”

“Oh, you know,” Dani said with mock innocence. “She said she didn’t think you had it in you. That maybe she needed to step up her game.”

He blinked. “Wait—what does that mean?”

Dani grinned. “You’ll figure it out. Or not. Anyway—speaking of which…”

She pulled out her phone, tapped a few times, and handed it to him.

Ethan stared at the screen.

It was the photo. The one from the kiosk.

He was sitting stiffly in the pink salon chair, face mid-flinch, mouth slightly open like he’d just said “ow.” His ears were pink. The silver hearts caught the light just enough to glint. Dani stood beside him, flashing a peace sign and grinning like a lunatic.

“You promised not to post it.”

“I didn’t post it. I showed it.” She plucked the phone from his hand. “Different legal category.”

He scowled. “You’re the worst.”

She poked his side. “But admit it. You look kinda cute.”

“I look like a scared chipmunk.”

“A scared fashionable chipmunk.”

He pulled the pillow onto his lap and buried his face in it. “Ughhh…”

Dani leaned back, stretching her arms over her head with a groan. “Look, Sissy—can I tell you something serious?”

He peeked out. “You’re capable of that?”

She nodded. “Once per quarter. This is it.”

He blinked, waiting.

She looked at him—not smirking, not laughing. Just… looking.

“You said yes. You showed up. You went to school wearing those little silver hearts like they were battle medals. That takes guts. I make fun of you ‘cause it’s fun. But I’m also kinda proud of you. Okay?”

Ethan’s mouth moved, but no sound came out.

So she grinned again. “Also, Claire definitely has a crush on you now. You’re welcome.”

He threw the pillow at her.

She laughed all the way to the kitchen.

 

* * *
 

Colleen sat on the edge of her bed in a soft lilac robe, her hair wrapped in a towel and her bare feet propped on an ottoman. She was flipping through a catalog—one of those catalogs, full of tasteful vintage dresses and models with names like “Abigail” and “Hannah”—when Ethan knocked hesitantly on the doorframe.

He was already in pajamas: sleeveless cotton tee, flannel shorts. No ruffles, no frills. No Emily. Just Ethan.

She looked up with a smile. “Hey, sweetheart.”

He hovered. “Can I… talk to you for a second?”

“Of course.” She patted the mattress beside her. “Sit.”

He did, slowly, carefully, like the bed might bite.

Colleen set the catalog aside and gave him her full attention. “Is this about the earrings?”

He blinked. “How did you know?”

“You have the same look you had when you tried on my mascara. Curious, but guilty. Like you snuck a cookie and couldn’t decide if it was worth it.”

He laughed softly. “Maybe it was.”

“Ah.” She tilted her head. “So… you don’t hate them?”

He hesitated. Then shook his head. “No. I don’t hate them.”

She smiled, and for a moment didn’t say anything. Just let the silence bloom between them like a soft flower.

Finally, she stood and crossed to her dresser. Picked up something and turned.

In her hands: a long black velvet box.

Ethan squinted. “What is that?”

Colleen walked back over, sat beside him again, and placed it gently in his lap. “Options.” I went shopping, saw these and thought of my little guy.

He opened it slowly.

Inside, four pairs of earrings: tiny gold stars, simple pearl drops, small red rhinestone cherries, a pair of small gold hoops

His breath caught.

“You’re not saying I have to wear these…”

“I never said you had to get your ears pierced either,” she replied sweetly. “And yet…”

He shot her a look. “You’re incredible at this.”

“I know.”

He touched the gold stars. “These are… kind of nice.”

Colleen folded her legs beneath her. “Here’s what I was thinking,” she said, her voice casual but precise. “You keep wearing the hearts at school, or switch to clear studs if anyone starts acting up. That’s Ethan’s look. Subtle. Boyish. Bruce Wayne, just like Mrs. Campbell said.”

Ethan nodded, blushing to hear his teacher’s name said out loud.

She tapped the cherries. “But when it’s Emily’s turn—when you’re modeling, or helping Auntie Penelope host, or just around the house doing your chores—you wear something from this box. That’s her look. Confident. Pretty. Unmistakable.”

He looked up at her. “Like… my secret identity?”

She shrugged. “Some heroes wear masks or capes. You’ll wear earrings.”

He glanced down again, then smiled faintly. “So… I’m a superhero now?”

She leaned in and kissed the top of his head. “You’ve always been one, baby. I’m just giving you your costume.”

Ethan didn’t say anything.

He just held the box a little tighter.

 

* * *
 

It was supposed to be a quiet errand.

Colleen had only said, “Eleanor needs to check a few hem lengths for next season’s shoot. Nothing formal. You’ll be in and out, I promise.”

Ethan had raised an eyebrow. “As Emily?”

Colleen had blinked innocently. “Well, she is the one in the new catalog.”

So now here he was: perched on a small pedestal at the back of Eleanor’s boutique, wearing a pleated A-line dress in soft ivory with delicate cap sleeves. His feet, freshly pedicured by his mother, were tucked into nude ballet open-toe flats that showed off his pink toenails. Underneath he wore a slightly padded bra—nude in color—and one of his panty girdles. To keep the lines of the dress nice and neat, of course.

His wig—also freshly styled that morning by Colleen—was parted down the middle, tucked gently behind his newly pierced ears, where he now wore the elegant pearl drops from the velvet box.

He touched them nervously as Eleanor adjusted the high waist of the dress.

“Don’t fidget, darling,” she murmured, pinning fabric. “You’ll wrinkle your aura.”

“Sorry,” he said in his best girl voice. Still unsure if he was apologizing as Ethan or Emily.

“There.” Eleanor stepped back, eyes narrowed like an art teacher inspecting a canvas. “Now walk. Slowly. Let me see how it moves.”

Ethan stepped off the platform and—arms bent at the proper angle, wrists dangling just so, French-tipped nails gleaming—he walked the length of the fitting area, the soft fabric whispering around his legs. He tried not to flinch when he saw his reflection in the three-panel mirror. He looked so… composed.

Like he wasn’t pretending.

Like he was Emily.

“Lovely,” Eleanor said. “You’ve grown into that waistline nicely. Turn.”

He turned. The pearls glistened. His cheeks warmed.

And then—

The bell above the boutique door jingled.

Eleanor didn’t flinch. “Oh good, my clients!”

Ethan paused mid-turn. “Wait. You didn’t say—”

“Just a few regulars. Some very nice ladies whose daughters who are interested in the Emily line.”

He turned sharply. “What line?!”

Colleen appeared, holding a clipboard and a cappuccino. “You’re modeling it, sweetheart.”

Ethan’s eyes widened. “You said this was just a fitting!”

“I said Eleanor needed to check hem lengths. Which she did. And now you’re helping us see how it looks in motion. Like Batman in his mask and cape. Remember?”

He was about to object, but now they weren’t alone.

Several women and girls approached—one elderly, two middle-aged, and three girls around fifteen or sixteen. They paused.

Then they smiled.

“There she is!” said the youngest.

The three girls looked right at him. Not past him. Not confused. At him.

“Is that the Emily we saw in the fall brochure?” one of the women asked Eleanor.

Eleanor beamed. “It is. The one and only.”

She welcomed her clients, and led them to their seats. Ethan felt his throat close as six—no, make that eight sets of eyes locked on him, Eleanor and his mother included.

“She’s so pretty,” one of the girls whispered, setting off a wave of enthusiastic giggling and nodding.

“Would you mind walking again, Emily dear?” Eleanor asked, calm as moonlight. “Just like before.”

He swallowed. Then nodded. His hands floated awkwardly up, his hands tilting slightly downward in his signature style.

This time, when he walked, he didn’t look at the mirror.

He looked straight ahead. For the moment, he wasn’t Ethan—he was Emily.

And when he turned, his pearls caught the light—and one of the girls smiled, then touched her own earring, as if in solidarity.

He blushed all the way through his shoes.

Colleen murmured to Eleanor, “I think we’ll call this one ‘White Pearl.’ Perfect for spring.”

 

* * *
 

The boutique had long since closed, the mannequins dimmed under soft golden light. Eleanor had kissed both cheeks—Emily’s and Colleen’s—and called it “a lovely impromptu show.” Orders for more dresses were in Colleen’s clipboard, another generous check on the way.

The pearl drop earrings stayed in.

Back home, the house was quiet. A gentle kind of quiet, like it knew not to press too hard. Colleen hummed in the kitchen, boiling water for tea. Ethan had retreated upstairs, peeled off the ivory dress with methodical care, hung it gently, and changed into a pair of pink silk pajama shorts and a cropped Barbie T-shirt—a gift from Dani, of course.

And yet... the earrings remained.

A few minutes later he found himself in her doorway. She had just changed into her nightgown—the aroma of her tea was comforting.

Colleen turned before he even spoke. “Still up?”

He nodded.

She gestured to the bed. “C’mon. I’m not folding socks. You’re safe.”

He sat down on the edge, this time unprompted.

She took a seat beside him, her hand brushing lightly across his back.

“You were wonderful this evening,” she said.

He didn’t answer.

“You know that, right?”

“…Sort of.”

She smiled, then reached out and gently turned his face toward her.

“You made that one girl smile. Well, you made them all smile, but that one girl in particular… Do you remember that?”

He nodded slowly.

“She saw you. Not just the clothes. You. And you made her happy.”

“…I didn’t even do anything,” he whispered.

Colleen tilted her head. “Exactly.”

He blinked.

“That’s what’s so special,” she said softly. “You didn’t have to try. You were just there. Moving with grace. Standing with poise. Turning just enough for the skirt to catch the light. You made it real. You made it beautiful.”

He looked down at his lap, fingers twisting the drawstring of his shorts. “It didn’t feel like pretending.”

She said nothing for a moment.

Then: “Was it?”

He swallowed. “I don’t know.”

Colleen reached out and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead. Her fingers grazed one of the pearl drops. “You don’t have to know tonight.”

Ethan looked up. “I didn’t hate it.”

Her smile deepened. “I didn’t think you did.”

He hesitated. “I didn’t even... mind them seeing me. Not as Emily.”

“Because she’s part of you.”

He exhaled through his nose. “That’s the scary part.”

Colleen leaned in, rested her forehead gently against his temple. “I know, baby. But you’re not alone. Not in this. You do know that, right?”

Ethan shrugged, then nodded.

“Let’s take these off for now.” Colleen removed the pearl drops and replaced them with the little silver hearts. “Better for sleeping. Sparkle sparkle,” she said, lightly kissing his lips.

Ethan closed his eyes, savoring the sensation, the warmth… the love.

For a moment, the world quieted around them. Just her hand on his back. Just the moisture of her lips. Just the faint tingle of a tiny shiny heart in each ear. Just the afterglow of being seen—and not running from it.

When she pulled away, she tapped his nose lightly with her own. “Brush your teeth. And remember, don’t sleep on your side. Your ears are still healing.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, Mom.”

But there was a smile tucked beneath it.

He rose, padded quietly toward the hallway. Then paused, just once, on the threshold.

“…Did she really mean it?”

Colleen looked up. “Who?”

“The girl. At the boutique.”

Colleen’s eyes softened. “I think she wished she could be more like you.”

He stood there, holding the words in his chest.

And then, finally, nodded. “Okay.”

And disappeared into the hall.

 

* * *
 

Ethan hadn’t expected to see her there.

He’d ducked into the library annex after the final bell, looking for a quiet spot to finish some history reading before Colleen picked him up—and to hide from Samuel Torres and anyone else who might make his life miserable. The annex was really just a narrow room with a single window and a row of old armchairs that smelled like encyclopedias and school glue.

He had just settled into the second chair—slouched a bit, legs crossed at the ankles—when he heard the sound of Mary Janes scuffing the floor.

Claire.

She spotted him instantly, then gave a slow, knowing smile.

“Oh hey,” she said, like she hadn’t absolutely planned this.

“Hey,” he replied, already sitting up straighter.

She walked in, dropped her backpack with a casual thud, and sat in the chair across from him.

A beat passed.

Then she tilted her head, that smile still dancing. “So.”

Ethan swallowed. “So...?”

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You’re in a boutique catalog.”

He blinked.

She blinked back.

“...Who told you?”

“Dani.” She smirked. “She was giddy. And she showed me a certain photo.” She flicked her ear lobe playfully and winked.

Ethan groaned and hid his face behind his book. “Of course she did.” He frowned. “So, you gonna give me grief. Like you and your friends did in the cafeteria?”

Claire looked away, pretending innocence. “What do you mean?”

“You know… all that stuff about me being a mama’s boy… being Emily… ask me if I have any tampons?”

“Oh, that.” Claire blushed. “I told you, we didn’t mean anything by all that. We tease each other all the time.”

“Yeah… right.”

The sound of sneakers came from the outside the door, followed by Principal Willis shouting: “No running in the halls, please!”

Claire gave him a sidelong look, coy with the tinge of contrition. “I saw the website… thought the pictures were cute. Seriously, I’m kinda jealous.”

“You are?” Ethan peeked over the top of his book. His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You’re just saying that because—”

Claire shrugged. “I’m not lying. I promise. You looked so shy, but so cool. And... so pretty.”

Ethan felt his face burning. He resisted the urge to touch the earrings—today he’d worn the hearts again. Safer than the stars. School-safe sparkle, as Colleen called it.

“I didn’t want to do it,” he said quietly. “The catalog, I mean. Or the earrings.”

“Then why did you?”

He hesitated. “Because I said yes.”

Claire’s eyebrows rose.

“The catalog… well, Miss Eleanor needed someone. And my mom was... my mom. I just... didn’t say no. We’re making a lot of sales because of Emily… well, me, I guess.”

“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

“Oh sure. We need the money, obviously. Mom wants to hire more people to help us and—”

He felt his face get hot as he brushed his hair back over his ear. “Anyway… as for, um, these… Dani dared me. You know how she is. So I just did that, too.”

Claire considered this as she leaned forward and examined his earrings. “Neither one of those sounds like pretending.”

Ethan felt the warmth of her breath—it smelled like cinnamon. “They don’t?”

She leaned back and shook her head. “Sounds more like choosing to me.”

The room felt very small for a moment.

He glanced down at his book. “You’re not... weirded out by any of this? You gonna tease me again?”

She laughed. Not harsh. Not mocking. Just... light.

“Ethan,” she said gently. “I’ve known you since second grade. I’ve seen you cry over a frog. I’ve seen you blush at the word 'panties.' And I’ve seen you hold Niecy’s hand like it was made of glass. This?” She gestured vaguely. “This isn’t weird. It’s you.”

He didn’t know what to say.

So she did it for him.

“You make such a pretty girl.”

He stared.

She leaned back in the chair, satisfied.

“I mean,” she added, looking up at the ceiling, “I always liked Ethan. But I really like Emily.”

His throat went dry. “Do you... like-like her?”

Claire looked at him.

And smirked.

“Maybe.”

Then she stood, slung her backpack over one shoulder, and walked to the door.

Just before she left, she looked back over her shoulder.

“Oh—and if you ever model those cherry earrings in public—” she said with a wink— “call me.”

The door clicked softly shut behind her.

Ethan sat there for a long time.

Staring.

Blushing.

And slowly, slowly smiling.

 

* * *
 

The light in Colleen’s bedroom was warm and low, casting a soft amber glow over the vanity’s surface. The vanity itself—an elegant piece of mid-century design with a rounded mirror and rows of neatly arranged bottles and tubes—smelled faintly of powder, perfume, and lavender-scented drawer liners.

Ethan sat before it, clad in one of Emily’s nighties, a peach top with ribbons for shoulder straps and matching panties trimmed with lace. White plastic clips with a pink blossoms held back his dark brown hair on either side.

The little black velvet box lay open beside the brush tray, gold stars and silver hearts, rhinestone cherries and pearls nestled inside like treasure. At the moment he wore his gold hoops, catching glints of light as he tilted his head from side to side.

He didn’t speak. He didn’t smile.

He just stared.

The girl in the mirror stared back.

Not just Ethan in earrings. Not just a boy wearing what girls wear.

She had his eyes. His hesitance. His thoughts.

But she was... softer. Still. Watching him.

He reached up and brushed a finger along one lobe. Played with the hoop.

She did the same.

Behind him, Colleen sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed, wrapped in a towel, fresh from her bath, one bare foot bouncing as she chatted cheerfully on speakerphone. A bouquet of shampoo and baby powder evoked feminine intimacy.

“Oh, I wish you could’ve seen him, Dee. Poised just like a little movie starlet on the red carpet. Walked in front of Eleanor’s clients like he’d been doing it for years. The shoulders, the hips, the face… the whole nine yards.”

From the phone: “Don’t tease him too much. He might start charging you runway rates.”

Colleen laughed. “He looked like a magazine ad for youth and innocence. Just... radiant.”

Ethan flushed. He hated that word. “Mom…”

Colleen waved a hand at his reflection. “Oh hush. Bask in the glow of compliments for once, darling.”

“What’s he wearing now?” DeeDee’s voice cracked faintly from the speaker, playful and low.

“One of Emily’s nighties, you remember, the peach top and those sweet little panties with the frills? He’s sitting at my vanity. Mooning at his reflection like a sad little Valentine.”

Ethan groaned and slumped slightly.

“Straighten up, my love,” Colleen said. She gave him a playful nudge with her toes. “You're a professional model now, remember? You have certain standards to maintain.”

“Does he have his earrings in? Which ones?”

“The gold hoops. Never thought I’d see the day, but here it is. I’m melting just looking at them on him.

“Tell him to try the cherries. But first get a picture of the hoops. I want both. And don’t let him hide his ears with that mop.”

“Oh, don’t worry. His hair looks really cute right now. I mean, really cute. Very Natalie Wood.”

“I still say Audrey Hepburn.” DeeDee cackled. “Now send me that photo, woman! I want to see!”

Colleen snapped her fingers, indicating for Ethan to turn around.

Ethan sighed. “Okay.”

“Say cheese!” she said, smirking.

He automatically rested one arm on the vanity, the other slightly bent upward, his wrist dangling girlishly. He tilted his head just a little to the left, his mouth bent in a shy smile and one eyebrow raised ever so slightly He held the pose until his mother was done. He’d gotten into the habit of doing this quickly, upon command, the result of months of practice and hundreds of photos taken by both Colleen and Eleanor’s photographer, Marcel.

“Perfect. As always.” Colleen hit send and blew a kiss at her son. “See his hair? I told you, it’s been looking really good lately. He’s been keeping it brushed nice and neat… to hide his little secret when he’s at school.”

DeeDee quickly responded: “Hoo-wee! Tell Princess he looks like a pinup model! That nightie is almost too much. I kinda feel guilty looking at this.”

“I think she likes it,” Colleen whispered. “Put on the cherries.”

Ethan sighed and removed the hoops. He put in the cherry earrings and posed for more pictures.

“Very nice, Princess.” DeeDee hooted once more. “The earrings are awesome, but that smile is to die for. Yeah, he does looks like Natalie in this one. How about the rest?”

The flustered boy gritted his teeth, reached for the little velvet box—hesitated—and pulled his hand back.

“Hmm.” Colleen leaned back on her elbows, watching him over the top of her knees. “You okay, sweetheart?”

He nodded slowly. “I was just thinking.”

“What about?”

“Emily.” He glanced up, met her eyes in the mirror. “If... maybe she’s not just pretend.”

Colleen’s voice softened instantly. She rolled over and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling her towel up with her. “She never really was, baby.”

There was a pause. Long enough to feel real.

Then DeeDee piped up again: “Was that a he or a she I just heard?”

Colleen laughed. “You heard a person having a moment. Let him have it.”

“Hey, Collie, let ‘Natalie’ know I’m bringing red nail polish and lipstick next time I come over. The real thing, none of that prissy pink stuff. And if she ever wants some real advice on how to walk in heels—”

Ethan stood abruptly. “I’m going to bed.” He leaned over and gave his mother a light peck on the lips.

Colleen tried to contain her joy as he turned away—he looked so adorable, walking toward the door in his peach-colored panties, adjusting the shoulder strap to his nightie. “All right, my love. Brush your teeth. And don’t sleep on your side.”

“And don’t forget to moisturize!” DeeDee squawked as he escaped the room.

The door closed behind him.

Colleen sighed, smiling.

Then she whispered into the phone: “Thank you, Dee. He needed that.”

“So did you.”
 

Next up, The Judgment of Vivian