Chris was just an ordinary middle school boy. Just above medium height for boys. A bit on the skinny side but with well-toned gymnast muscles. Yes, Chris was a gymnast. A fairly good one that made the school team but didn’t excel. Still, he loved gymnastics His hair was a golden blond that he usually kept shortish. He was rather bright and worked hard so he had good grades but wasn’t ranked as one of the real top students. No, there was really nothing special about Chris, except he had no friends. Chris and his parents couldn’t understand why. He was not a recluse by nature. He wasn’t mean. He didn’t look or smell strange. He wanted to have friends. Too bad nobody wanted him as a friend. Since he didn’t have any friends he was fair game for the bullies. But even that had faded by his last year in middle school. It’s not any fun to bully someone that just looks at you when you do that. Unfair! So the bullying Chris suffered was more pro forma. You know, to meet the minimum requirements of the Bully Code. After four years even making fun of a weird name becomes stale. Still, that didn’t explain why he had no friends

Oh, didn’t I mention Chris’ real name? It was Chrysanthemum. Family name? What family does Chrysanthemum belong to? The Daisy family of course. Yup, Chris’ full legal name was Chrysanthemum Daisy. It really was. He had managed to get copies of both his birth certificate and his parents’ marriage certificate. There he saw that his parents, Grant and Joy Daisy, used to be named Fragrant Daisy and Joyful Daisy. They had changed their names some time after they had left the hippie commune that Chrysanthemum’s great-grandfather, the first Daisy, had co-founded. They were lapsed hippies. However, they occasionally had relapses which somewhat unsettled their colleagues and clients. Grant had a position fairly high in a big bank and Joy had a business of her own as a forensic accountant. She was very much in demand.

When confronted by Chris about their name changes they just declared that that had been their choice. If Chris wanted to change his name that was fine. However, it had to be HIS choice. They were not going to do it for him. Which of course meant he was stuck with his name until he was 18. In school Chris usually insisted that “Chrysanthemum” was a male word. It came from Latin and ended with -um not – a. Thus not female but male. QED. In his defense Chris didn’t knew that he was lying, no not lying since it wasn’t on purpose; incorrect. It’s true that Chrysanthemum isn’t female but neither is it male. It’s neuter. But since no one knew better everyone accepted it. Besides, Chris never lied.

Looking at the certificates Chris also noted that his parents really were legally married. Not something to be taken for granted at that stage in their lives. Grandma Daisy was licensed to marry people. Even more surprising was that she had completed and filed every little piece of paperwork. Usually Grandma Daisy was more stoned than an early Christian martyr.

When Chris was in middle school the Daisys lived in a big city. Then Grant was sent to a biggish town (or smallish city, the discussion was ongoing) far away to manage the bank’s rapidly expanding business in the area. West Ridge was really not that big in itself but it was a center for a rapidly expanding area. Joy’s business she mostly did from home and West Ridge had an airport with surprisingly many daily flights. Thus on the day Chris graduated from middle school they left the big city. Grant was only to start his new position after summer but Joy had to go to Germany to clear up some really messy business and Grant was also sent there to meet some important people.

To be honest Chris would only have been in the way so they decided to send him to a gymnastics camp for eight weeks. Everything was packed and their house sold. They spent the last night before Chris’ middle school graduation at a hotel and they were poised to leave for their respective destinations immediately after. To their great surprise a boy that Chris spent some time with, the closest to a friend he had, came up and gave Chris a goodbye present.

“I’m really, really sorry that you won’t be here for high school.”
Joy was surprised.
“I hadn’t realized that you were a friend of Chris’”
“Oh, I’m not. But now I will be the most boring boy in the entire high school!”.

Chris’ parents looked at each other but there was no time. They had to go to the airport and Uncle Blossoming was waiting to drive Chris to the camp. That would take some hours. Uncle Blossoming was one of many relatives. The Daisys believed in the motto “Make Love not War”. But he was the only Daisy on speaking terms with Chris’ lapsed parents. He was also a more typical Daisy. Even if Chris was of average size he was the runt of the litter. The Daisys tended to be big and genetically predisposed to be well-muscled. For some reason 6’10” massively muscled marine sergeant Blossoming Daisy was never taunted for his name, more than once.

Due to the circumstances Chris had been allowed to arrive at the camp the day before the bulk of the other campers. Blossoming left him there but had no time to stay because he had to get back to the base to prepare for a deployment overseas so Chris was left to one young camp counselor.

“Chrysanthemum Daisy? You’re placed in” smiling “Daisy cabin. It’s over there.”
“Could you please call me Chris?”

And Chris Daisy set off in direction of Daisy cabin. His bag was not heavy. One of the more unusual features of the camp was that the camp provided all necessary clothing, except underwear. This was because they had a philosophy of equality. Many of the kids were there on scholarships and came from families of modest means. This was one of things that (Fra)grant and Joy(ful) found appealing with this specific camp.

So Chris arrived at Daisy cabin. He swung the door open and was about to enter when he saw a stark naked girl in the cabin. He blushed and turned around in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I must have come to the wrong cabin.”
“O O O You must be Chrysanthemum. They said another girl would come today as well. I know, I know. People are so hung up on the nudity taboo. But don’t be shy. It’s just us girls here. I’m Taylor. Pleased to meet you”
As Taylor was speaking she had come up to Chris and turned him around. Chris made another 180-degree turn.
“I’m not a girl. I’m a boy!”
“O O O You’re transgendered! A boy trapped in the body of a girl! How exciting. I’ve never met one before We’ll be great friends!”
Chris was later to learn that the three Os came out whenever Taylor was excited which happened quite a lot.
“You’ve got it all wrong. I’m a BOY. An XY BOY!”
“But this camp is a girls only camp! So you’re a girl trapped in the body of a boy!”

After another ten confusing minutes they understood each other. Taylor finally accepted that Chrysanthemum wasn’t transgender or a committed tomboy. Chris finally understood that he wasn’t supposed to be there. As a result they headed down to the camp administration. Big confusion overall. When they finally got hold of Chris’ parents they were somewhere over the Atlantic. The present situation was due to many misunderstandings. Chris’ parents had been so happy to find a gymnastics camp for eight weeks and looking so good in all other aspects that they had missed a few small details like it was a girls only camp. Another thing was that it was a gymnastics/cheerleader camp. The camp administration had quite naturally assumed that Chrysanthemum Daisy was a girl. They had no reason to believe anything else.

After a long confused, irritated and exasperated telephone conversation it was decided that Chris would stay at the camp. Any alternative would have been too difficult to arrange. The clincher was when the deputy manager reminded the manager about the camp motto: “Rising to the challenge”. Well, having Chrysanthemum in camp sure would be a challenge.
Of course he couldn’t stay in Daisy cabin with the girls. He remained a daisy for group activities but he was moved to Dandelion cabin. Dandelion cabin was normally not used and to be honest it was not in a good shape.

In all other aspects Chris would be just another camper. Gymnastic session in the morning. Cheerleading in the afternoon and then an extra session (duly paid in advance by Chris parents) chosen from several alternatives. Taylor signed him up for ballet since she was going to do that as well and since she and Chrysanthemum were BFF (a surprise for Chris) it was obvious that that Chris would take it as well.

The next morning the buses with the other campers arrived. Chris was still asleep. The emotional stress the night before had taken its toll. He was rather abruptly woken when the rest of the daisies ascended on Dandelion cabin (placed higher than the other cabins at the edge of the forest). Taylor had told them all about him and they had decided to help him get the cabin in shape. By lunch they had. The other girls thought the situation was hilarious but they were well-disposed toward Chris. For once he was suddenly one of a group. With all the positive feedback he got he was open and surprisingly he found that given the right stimulus he had a dry sense of humor. Dressed in the rather short camp shorts and the lavender camp t-shirt (different colors for different age groups). He had a very pleasant lunch chatting with Taylor and the other daisies. He even survived the embarrassment when his situation was announced. He could have done without them using his full name.

Then he got a shock when he realized that he was expected to participate in the cheerleading session after lunch. He had already got the practice clothes. A lavender crop top and short skirt. Or should it be called a skort? Well at least his underwear wouldn’t be visible. On the other hand his boxer shorts didn’t fit under. Somehow he had managed to mash his boxers into the short and tight shorts. As it turned out the camp had a supply of extra underwear, i.e. panties. Not lavender though, pink! Chris had a very nice midriff though. At least that was what Taylor and the other daisies told him.

At first Chris thought he’d just goof off but then he realized that cheering was a group thing and he couldn’t let down his fellow daisies. He gave it his all. To his surprise it was fun. Not as fun as gymnastics but still fun. He ignored the obvious disapproval of the cheerleading coach. She had been told to treat Chris like anyone else but she did NOT like to have a boy there.

Practice over they went down to the beach. Chris, like the rest of the daisies, had been given a lavender bikini. A rather demure one. He didn’t bother to put on the top part.
Whistle blowing.
“Put on your top. No topless swimming.”
“But I don’t have any boobs to cover,”
“Doesn’t matter All girls have to have their tops on. And don’t use the word boobs!”
“But I’m not a girl. I’m boy!”
The beach counselor looked down and noticed the bulge.
“Right, you’re a boy. So what the hell are you doing here and dressed like a girl? A slutty girl at that!” Apparently not all counsellors had been informed about Chris.

Chris refrained from commenting that the bikini bottoms he wore were not that different from speedos, if you disregard the color, and thus he was dressed like a boy, and not a slutty one.

After a new visit to admin, Chris was beginning to be a regular there, Chris went back to the beach, wearing his top. He had also been given a lesson in “tucking”. What surprised the camp manager was that Chris had not so far given any visible reaction to being surrounded by girls. Had she asked Chris she would have understood better. 1. Chris had not really started to be interested in girls, at least not that way. 2. He was just too confused, unsettled and intimidated by the situation to bother with them from that point of view.

Ballet was another new experience for Chris. By now he was just going with the flow. He donned his less than opaque white tights, another first, and spaghetti strap lavender leotard (yet another first). Not together with the girls though. He always changed in Dandelion where they also had set up a kind of shower where he could shower in mutual privacy. The camp admin had made a trip to nearest larger town and got him a dance belt as well. Well, actually two of them. Chris decided to not bother with trying to cover up going over to the dance studio. He had come to stage where he had decided to own it. Sure, he was a boy in a girls only camp. The only boy. He was not going to be daunted. His parents would have been delighted.

The ballet teacher, Ms Dupont, took a completely different approach to Chris than the cheerleader coach. She told him that she would teach him just as she always taught boys at beginner levels. That is exactly like the girls. Buoyed by this attitude Chris gave it his all. Taylor took after Chris. After class Ms Dupont told him and Taylor how well they had done.

It was not a very refreshing night. Chris was not really comfortable to be all alone in the cabin. It was a dark and stormy night (with apologies to Snoopy). In the morning Chris was once more welcome into the fraternity (sorority?) of daises at breakfast.

At gymnastics Chris learnt a lot. Not least that female and male gymnastics really, really are different. After seeing a girl doing some advanced exercises on the uneven bars he agreed with Coach Jones that he’d skip those. (A boy walks into a bar, sorry swings into a bar … ouch!).

As for the rest Chris was fascinated by the female moves. Not in THAT way. In a serious way. He had come to accept that this summer wouldn’t help him with his boy gymnastics but that was OK. He wasn’t that good a gymnast anyway and this looked like fun. Coach Jones was that most unusual of coaches as well. Apart from her technical skills, she inspired in way that Chris never had been before. And then there was Taylor and the rest of the daisies! Yes, Chris wasn’t despondent about the summer any longer. After lunch he was rearing to go at the cheerleading.

And thus the first two weeks slipped past. Intensive training. Basking in the sun at the camp beach. Some fooling around with the girls. Just the ordinary camp playing. The second Saturday there was a dance as a goodbye to the girls leaving after the first two-week session. This meant another type of lessons for Chirs. Lesson 1 was shopping à la girl. The one thing not provided by the camp was a dress for the dance. Lesson 2 was make-up. Fortunately the daisies all agreed that Chrysanthemum was such a delicate flower that didn’t need much and his style was the “girl next door”. The dress was cute though. So was the boy from the camp at the other side of the lake attending him at the dance. Even if Phil had been told that Chris was a boy the boy had misunderstood why Chris was at the camp. Phil believed that Chris was transgendered. Being the boy he was Phil considered it his duty to give Chris a thorough grounding in the noble art of kissing. Chris was a good learner. He showed Taylor how much he had learnt when she cornered him after the dance to ask him how it had been. Taylor O O Oed.

Chris was sorry to see Taylor leave. A few new daises took the place of the dearly departed. Apart from that things went on very much like before. Even if Taylor with her enthusiasm wasn’t there any longer Chris was most definitely a daisy. He liked all the other daisies (well, almost of them) but no one became a special friend like Taylor had been.

The gymnastics coach was delighted to see Chris become less rigid and more flowing. Chirs had been rather stiff in the beginning. The cheerleading coach grudgingly came to the same conclusion. She even started to be positive about Chris.

The ballet teacher couldn’t say the same thing. Chris had actually liked the firm structure of ballet. The fixed rules that ballet has, at least at the beginners’ level. Chris realized two things. He normally was quite rigid and square in many ways. And at this camp he could try to climb out of the box. He didn’t know anyone here. He never would meet any of them again. He could “go crazy” for a while before settling into his old comfortable self again in his new school.

What happens in Las Vagas stays in Las Vagas. Yup, the camp was named Las Vagas. Ironically that translates as “the lazy girls”. Not very appropriate given the intense physical aspect of the camp.

So Chris went crazy. After ballet classes together with Taylor they’d usually had stopped by the class in oriental dancing, or as it’s more commonly known – belly dancing, to look. Chris just couldn’t get it out of his head. So for the second two-week period he signed up. He dropped his ballet slippers for bare feet. He looked quite cute in the outfit. It’s safe to say that his hip movements rattled people. The teacher had never taught a boy before and was really excited. Chris became her special project. If Chris had been honest with himself, which he wasn’t (lying to oneself doesn’t count as being dishonest), he’d have to admit that he liked belly dancing even more than gymnastics. Fortunately he didn’t have to choose.

So in short, and in short shorts, Chris lived up to the camp motto “Rising to the challenge”. And no one was challenged like Chris. Rather amazing since Chris usually was very good at avoiding challenges. The positive feedback from the other daisies may have had something to do with it.

The second period ended by another dance. Chris went in the same dress as last time. After all he was a boy and not a girl. He didn’t see any reason to spend more of his parents’ money, even if it had been generously provided. And it wasn’t like he’d have any use for several dresses or even just one dress once camp was over. Phil taught him Kissing 102. Chris somehow felt something was missing. There was no Taylor to show how much he had learnt.

By the third two-week period the camp manager had grown quite customed to look up at the camp motto. Chris was not only challenged, he was also very challenging. The manager had expected Chris to just fade into the background and if he caused any problems it would be because he was a boy. Well, the problems he caused was because he was a boy but not in the way she had expected. Chris was just a happy camper. A too happy camper. He was perky and bushy tailed. He was a daily sunshine even when it poured down. The camp manager sometimes felt she was subjected to a Pollyanna overdose. Lethal that. Chris outperformed all the girls. Perhaps not in absolute terms but most definitely when looking at the first derivate. Even more worrying was the second derivate. There was no way she could just hide him away and forget about him.

There was no other solution than pulling Chris out of the daisy group for gymnastics and cheerleading. The camp manager hated doing that but she had to. There was no other solution. To make things worse Chris thrived even more in the advanced gymnastic and cheerleading groups. Smiling every day no matter how much his muscles disagreed. Especially the abdominal muscles bellyached. However, the facial muscles hadn’t joined the union.

Don’t think that it was all work and no play. Chris spent time on the playa, frolicking in the bulrushes (there was a wetland at the edge of camp, which explained all the mosquitos) and fooling around with the girls. If anyone chose to misinterpret the last statement I want to make clear that Chris may not have been a good girl (though he was getting better and better at it) but he was a morally upright and most honorable boy. Young George Washington would look like a weasel in comparison.

For the third dance the other daisies just wouldn’t let him go to the dance. At least not in his old dress. He had worn it TWICE already and wouldn’t a more daring dress be better? At least Phil thought so and suggested an inter course. Phil still hadn’t understood why Chris was at the camp and I’m sorry to say that Phil had some very strange ideas about transgendered girls. Chris politely declined and just had fun at the dance. Not that he was a good ballroom dancer but getting downtrodden (on his feet) was also a new experience. To be honest. even without taking time off for Phil’s coaching Chris didn’t dance that much. The punch was good though. Despite lacking that extra punch.

By the final two-week period Chris had become really focused on Madame Muna’s belly-dancing class. She even sneaked in extra sessions with him. She kept nagging at him to keep up with classes after camp as well. She even recommended a school near West Ridge. Chris was grateful but he was too honorable to lie to her (see, I told you!). Camp Las Vagas was one thing. High school another. Chris had become quite an accomplished cheerleader. A not bad (girl) gymnast. A marginally competent belly dancer. Even six weeks of intensive training don’t turn a rookie boy into something more.

To be honest, which Chris was this time, he was looking forward to the end of the camp. He was not only physically exhausted. Crawling around aimlessly outside the box was even more mentally exhausting. Chris sure looked forward to rejoining his parents in West Ridge, his new hometown. There he’d happily revert to his comfortable boring self. What happened in Las Vagas stayed in Las Vagas.

The end.

Hey, STOP! That is not the end at all! There is a part two as well. Didn’t you see the title? It CLEARLY states “part 1”. Thus, there must be at least a part 2. It goes without saying. And do you really think that I’ll let Chris get off this easily? Really?!