Chapter One
“What do you mean, you can’t make it?”
It was the day before Fiona Turner’s wedding. She was by no means a bridezilla, though a last minute snag was bound to make anyone a little frustrated.
Her younger sister, Sophie, stepped a little closer to try and hear more than the single side of the conversation the others in the living room were getting from Heather. “Who is it?” she asked.
“No, it’s fine!” Fiona said, “I bet she’ll be better by tomorrow. Just-” “ . . . We can make it work! Please, Jamie.” “ . . . That’s not fair!” After another brief back and forth, the bride-to-be groaned and threw her phone at the nearby sofa. She wasn’t so worked up that she was going to damage the device without thinking, though she did let out a loud groan before telling those present, “Mia is sick. Too sick to leave the house, apparently.”
“Shit,” Sophie muttered. She flushed and glanced towards their mother, “Sorry, Mom.”
The woman would normally chastise her daughters for such language. In this case, she was more focused on the problem at hand. “So, no flower girl,” she said, also not the type to beat around the bush.
Samuel–or Sam, as he preferred to go by–was lounging in the armchair on the other side of the room. He was the only real Turner in the room, and only half paying attention to the unexpected complication that the other three had just been hit with. Eighteen years old and the only male in the family now that his father wasn’t in the picture, he had very little to contribute when it came to a traditional wedding. For the same reason Fiona wanted a flower girl and a church sanctuary, the groomsmen were all relatives and friends of the groom, and the bridesmaids were all related to the bride in a similar manner. Sam would be serving as an usher, which basically meant, ‘You’re important, but there’s no other role we can give you.’
Not that he wanted to be in the wedding party. Sam was embarrassingly small for a boy his age; standing at barely 5’3”, he was in one of the lowest height percentiles possible. He would look absolutely ridiculous if he lined up with the other groomsmen.
His older step-sister, Fiona, also wanted an adult-only wedding. It was a common enough stipulation that some engaged couples made, to avoid disruptions during the ceremony and potential chaos at the reception. The only exception was her first cousin, Mia. While most flower girls were younger than the tween who had been asked to do the job, Fiona had decided to split the difference by having a slightly more mature girl take on the role. Then, after the ceremony, someone could drive Mia home; the girl was mature enough to be left without a babysitter for a few hours.
The downside to this plan was currently presenting itself. Every other guest was 18+, and it was the day of the rehearsal dinner. Most of their guests would already be on the road or on a plane to the destination wedding; it was way too late to find someone with a daughter who could adjust their travel plans at the last second.
Fiona started lamenting about how the wedding was ruined, how the flower girl and the petals were such an important part of her vision for the ceremony, and throwing out ideas like posting an ad online for a girl who was willing to step in the following evening. Maybe there would be some mother out there who needed the cash, though her daughter would also need to be able to fit into the dress, go to the stylist with everyone in the afternoon, etc. It was a pretty big ask for a total stranger, plus there were no guarantees some random girl would do a good job.
“What about Sammie?” Sophie smirked, “He’s about the size of a twelve year old.”
His seventeen year old sister still held a grudge after all this time. Around two years ago, Sam ‘tripped her’ and she ended up with a small scar on her chin. Nothing that a little make-up couldn’t cover up, but it was still a blemish in a more prominent spot. Fifteen at the time, Sophie was furious. Even though it was her fault for texting while walking around the house, which is what caused her to stumble over Sam’s feet while he was just chilling on the sofa. No matter how he tried to explain what actually happened, she wasn’t having it.
Between that, and the fact that her high school years turned her into a little bit of a mean girl, Sophie never stopped poking fun at Sam’s height. After all, he had basically stopped growing when he was thirteen, while Sophie ended up taller than him by the end of middle school. They were step-siblings, so it wasn’t as if they were blessed/screwed by the same genes, but still. As the only male in the family, it was still embarrassing to occasionally be mistaken as a younger brother.
What they all did have in common was their hair color. To some degree. Sam was more of a dirty blonde; Fiona and Sophie had lighter blonde hair. It was close enough that they could still be seen as biological siblings to those that didn’t know the family, when their parents only got married five years ago.
The problem with Sophie’s teasing was that she knew just how to get under his skin without coming across as rude or malicious. More than once, he had ‘overreacted’ in the eyes of their mother, since Sophie always backed off and played innocent. It helped that she was one year younger, so of course her brother was picking on her instead of the other way around.
In this case, Sam kept his attention on his laptop, not wanting to give her the satisfaction. It was the day before Fiona’s wedding, and he knew that both Fiona and his step-mom, Michelle, were stressed to the point where saying the wrong thing could turn him into a lightning rod when they were actually just dealing with the whole Jamie/Mia thing.
To his surprise, Sophie’s little joke, that she would surely claim was just to lighten the mood if called out on it, didn’t just die amidst the current discussion. “Actually . . . ” Michelle trailed off, thinking about it for a second before offering the idea as a potential solution, “Would it be that crazy to have a flower boy? Sam is on the shorter side. We could find a pink tie for him, or something?” It wasn’t a fully formed suggestion; she was just tossing out anything that might work.
Sam didn’t appreciate the idea. He was a cliché teenage guy in the sense that he wasn’t a fan of pinks or purples. The good news was, he wasn’t the only one who wasn’t into the alternative option. “It’s not the same,” Fiona said. As a ring bearer, maybe, though they had already pushed the flower girl age with Mia. It would be ridiculous to have her step-brother walking down the aisle and throwing petals for her, regardless of his tie color.
Meanwhile, Sophie was still wondering if she could have a little fun at Sam’s expense. It wasn’t as if anyone else was coming up with anything useful, and the flower boy idea *had* been thrown out there thanks to the way she drew attention to his size. “Honestly, I think Mia’s dress would fit him,” she said, trying her very best to sound curious rather than amused at the thought, “Slap on some make-up, fix up his hair? I bet Sammie would be a cute girl!”
“It’s Sam,” he corrected her, not that it was worth the effort. Sophie had been using the immature nickname more and more frequently over the years, even though no one in his family had ever called him that before she picked up the habit. “And I’m not a girl, if you hadn’t noticed.”
Sophie jumped on that response by clarifying, “That’s not what I said. I mean you could be a cute girl. You’re the one who never wants a haircut, right? I bet we could style it like you’re Mia. What do you think, Fiona?”
Again, Fiona didn’t quite latch onto the new idea brought up, since it was a little bit out there. Getting her brother to cross-dress to fill the role? Unlike Sophie, she wasn’t thinking maliciously, and the age factor is what made it difficult for the concept to make sense for her. Sam had just graduated high school; no one would believe that he was that young.
When no one else verbally rejected the idea, Sophie stood up and said, “Come on, it can’t hurt to try. Trust me, we do stuff like this all the time for theatre productions. Why don’t I give Sammie a make-over, and you two keep discussing other ideas. Divide and conquer?” She wasn’t wrong; it was the most efficient use of time.
“Hmm.” Michelle looked Sam over, then considered the idea just like she had done with her own a minute ago. “Okay, sure. Just to see.” Worst case scenario, it would look ridiculous and Fiona would de-stress a little bit from the fun.
Of course, not everyone in the room was on board just like that. “Umm, no,” Sam said. If it had been one of his sisters pushing this, he probably would have scoffed or rolled his eyes. He needed to be more respectful than that when responding to their mother. Still, he wasn’t going to let Sophie get away with some feminine makeover. He knew full well that this was more about embarrassing him than anything that would actually work for the upcoming wedding.
Now that it was within her grasp, Sophie wasn’t about to let this opportunity slip away. “Seriously?” she said, sounding slightly incredulous as she glanced towards the others for a moment. “This is Fiona’s wedding, Sam. It’s everyone’s job to make sure my sister has the best day, ever. You’re not willing to try something that might help?”
“I’m not going to put on a dress,” Sam clarified. It wasn’t the first time his slightly younger sister had manipulated things to sound like he was in the wrong, and he wasn’t going to let her make this all about Fiona while conveniently leaving out the part about what he was actually being asked to do.
Michelle knew that it was a big ask. Even if Sam wasn’t as small as he was, there were plenty of boys his age who would be adamantly against wearing girls’ clothes. Instead of letting things devolve into bickering, she stepped in and offered a carrot. Sophie wasn’t wrong about this being Fiona’s big day, and the bride-to-be’s mother would do just about anything to keep her happy. “How about this, Sam?” she said, “That new car you’re getting? Try on the dress and let Sophie experiment a little, and you can have the next tier up for the model you decided on.”
Sam’s father had left him a rather sizable trust, separate from what he had willed to the full family. However, it had been set up so Sam wouldn’t be able to personally access the funds until he turned twenty-five. That way, he’d be a bit more of an adult with a better grasp on how to spend that kind of money responsibly. In the meantime, Michelle had the authority to disperse a portion of the funds to Sam if he requested it and she believed the expense to be reasonable.
Throughout his senior year of high school, Sam had been asking for a car. And, upon graduating, his step-mother had affirmed that they’d pay for half of it with the trust, and let the other half be a gift from her. It still hadn’t happened, since the June wedding had taken up most of everyone’s time and attention over the last month or so.
He was immediately torn. Michelle had already given him a budget, one that was generous yet financially responsible, and Sam had done plenty of research and online browsing since then. He already knew what he wanted; at this point, it was just a matter of making an appointment and possibly waiting until they had the color he preferred. While window shopping, he had longingly looked at some of the add-ons that came with the more expensive tiers, knowing full well that wasn’t happening. Not for a first car, on a smaller budget.
Essentially, he would be getting $10K or so simply for wearing something pink and feminine for five minutes. Objectively, a really good deal. Just at the cost of Sophie forever having the ability to remind him about it; no matter what she said about this being for Fiona, she obviously wanted to see him all dolled up.
With everyone’s eyes on him, he felt pressured to make a choice. “No pictures,” he said, taking a pretty important precaution before allowing his younger sister anywhere near him with her brushes and that dress. “I’m not doing it unless you hold onto Sophie’s phone until afterwards.”
“Aww, you don’t trust me?” Sophie giggled. Not fighting the condition in the slightest, she hopped up from the sofa and handed her smartphone to their mother. “There! Believe it or not, Sammie, this isn’t all about you. Whose wedding is it, again?”
He didn’t need another round of that. Yes, it was Fiona’s big day; that didn’t mean Sophie didn’t have ulterior motives that were obvious to him.
When Sophie practically skipped to the stairs, turning at the base to tell Sam to follow, he briefly considered refusing. Was he actually about to wear Mia’s dress? She was twelve. And a girl. He hadn’t actually seen the flower girl outfit, though he assumed it was bright and frilly. He just told himself it was for the nice car that would likely be better than most of his future classmates at university. Also, he was assuming the dress wouldn’t fit to begin with; as long as he made the effort to put it on, his step-mother would have to give him what had just been promised.
Heading upstairs with Sophie, not as familiar with her relatives’ house as she was, Sam followed her into the guest room that had been temporarily designated as a storage room for bridesmaid dresses, wedding decorations, and so on. Now that it was just the two of them, Sophie could drop the facade a little bit. “Oh, Sammie! You’re going to look adorable.” Still playing it safe in case anyone was within earshot, though she could at least give him a smirk when he was the only one who could see her face. “Here you go!” Easily finding the only pink dress in the closet, she pulled it out and held it up for him to see. “Hmm. Do you think it’s too big for you?”
“Just give it to me.” Ignoring the implication that he was smaller than their little cousin, doing his best to pretend that this was no big deal when they both knew how stupid he would look wearing the outfit designed for a tween girl, Sam took the dress and found the nearest bathroom.
He closed and locked the door behind him, ignoring Sophie’s question about if he needed her to bring him some panties to wear underneath. Once he was sure his sister couldn’t barge in unannounced to check on him, Sam took his first real look at the dress.
It wasn’t actually that bad. At least, it wasn’t as horrible as he had anticipated. The dress was simple in design, with a pink tulle skirt and a plain white top. Still not something he wanted to put on the slightest, though it was better than whatever poofy/frilly/etc. mental image he had assumed from not seeing the dress until now.
Sam briefly considered standing around in his own clothes for a minute or two, then leaving the bathroom and claiming that it didn’t fit at all. Tempting as it was, he knew Sophie would call bullshit, plus he’d guarantee the car upgrade if their mom actually saw him in the dress. Besides, it was already the trade-off he had begrudgingly accepted. Five minutes of embarrassment for years of a better vehicle.
Stripping down to his underwear, he took the flower girl outfit from the hanger and decided to just get it over with. If he didn’t, there was a good chance he’d lose his nerve and back out, better vehicle or not.
One foot after the other, he stepped into the dress and began pulling it up his body, assuming that it was going to be too tight as soon as he reached his thighs and/or waist. Instead, those areas only offered a hint of resistance. To his surprise, Mia’s dress made it all the way up his body, at which point Sam slipped his arms underneath the thin white straps in hopes that his upper body would be the part that didn’t work with the outfit.
With fairly good timing, Sophie knocked on the door just as Sam was taking in the dress on his petite body in the mirror. “Need help, Sammie? Or did you put it on all by yourself?”
“Give me a minute!” he called back through the closed door.
Not that he needed more time to get changed. Sam was stalling for a completely different reason. As he awkwardly shifted this way and that, looking for a reason why the dress didn’t work beyond the fact that he was the wrong gender for it, it didn’t take very long before he realized that Sophie was right about one thing:
The flower girl dress fit him perfectly.
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Chapter Two
Sophie gave him ten seconds at best, interpreting her step-brother’s response in a more figurative manner. Why give him a full minute, when it was much more fun to surprise him? Either Sam was already wearing the dress, or still in the process of putting it on. If it was the former, amazing; otherwise, Sophie could double down about how he needed help.
To her annoyance, she wasn’t able to open the door and let herself in. Sophie was used to the doors at their own house, that didn’t lock from the inside. Apparently that was an option at their relatives’ place. “Sammie! Fiona wants to know it fits.” Technically true, though Sophie was more implying that someone had called upstairs and asked.
On the other side of the door, Sam was internally cursing to himself. The dress actually fit?! Mia was only twelve years old. Maybe she was tall for her age; Sam hadn’t seen her in quite some time. As he stood there and incredulously looked at himself in the mirror, he considered whether or not he could get away with claiming that the dress was too small to put on. “I said I need a minute!” he snapped, tensing up as he heard Sophie’s attempt to open the door. Sam remembered from his childhood how some locks at his friends’ houses could be loosened just by jiggling the doorknob roughly enough. As for the excuse, he knew it wouldn’t work. Both Sophie and the others would immediately suspect that he was trying to take the easy way out.
“You’ve had plenty of minutes!” Sophie retorted, “Open the door, Sammie. Everyone’s waiting. If you need help, I’ll help.”
“It’s ‘Sam,’” he said. As usual, only correcting the annoying nickname every now and then. Doing so more often would just make him sound whiny.
Rather than ignoring his insistence like she usually did, Sophie pushed back, using the current situation to her advantage. “It’s ‘Sammie’ as long as you act like a bratty little boy. Are you wearing the dress, or not?”
Sam hesitated. It had been easy to reject Sophie’s offer to help, since putting on the flower girl dress wasn’t complicated in the slightest. All he had to do was step in and pull it all the way up his body. He was less prepared for the yes/no question that left him a lot less wiggle room. Staying silent wouldn’t do him any favors; if anything, it would just hint at the truth. And if he said ‘no,’ they’d be right back to square one about how he needed help. “It doesn’t fit,” he said, splitting the difference.
Apparently that was enough. “But you’re wearing it?!” Sophie pressed. She wasn’t even trying to hide her excitement. “Open the door, Sammie.”
As badly as he didn’t want to, Sam could only delay the inevitable for so long. One way or another, he was going to have to prove that the dress ‘didn’t fit,’ and hiding in the bathroom wasn’t exactly a solution. Bracing himself for Sophie’s reaction, he said, “Fine.” Then he unlocked the door and allowed her to see him wearing a dress, taking some solace in how she didn’t have her phone to take a picture.
Her eyes immediately lit up. “Oh, my God!” she exclaimed. That’s as far as she got before bursting into a fit of giggles.
Unable to stop himself from blushing at what he more or less expected the bratty girl to be like upon laying eyes on him in the frilly thing, he scowled and said, “I’m changing.”
Catching her breath, still grinning from ear to ear, Sophie said, “What are you talking about, Sammie? It totally fits!” Before he had a chance to retreat into the bathroom and slam the door in her face, she grabbed his hand and tugged him towards the stairs, “Come on, let’s go show Fiona!”
“Wait- No, it’s too tight-” He stumbled slightly, not used to moving at such a pace in a skirt that went past his knees. Telling Sophie to slow down would only lead to more teasing, so he just kept reaching for excuses, “I told you, it doesn’t fit. I can tell.” Sam had definitely put on clothes in the past that he had been able to get on his body but were too small to wear comfortably. This could be the same thing, and he wasn’t totally lying; the dress was a little tight around his waist.
“Uh huh. Because you know so much about girls’ clothes.” Sophie easily dismissed his claims. Sam was actually wearing the flower girl dress! There was no way she was going to let him off the hook that easily, especially since Fiona and their mother were the ones really in charge of all the important decisions where the wedding was concerned.
Nearly tripping as they reached the base of the stairs, Sam had to bite his tongue as they turned the corner. The whole point of this was to win brownie points with Michelle, and cursing out his younger sister wouldn’t do him any favors in that regard. Nor would a bad attitude, when he and Sophie had already been given ‘the talk’ about how everyone was expected to be on their best behavior this weekend.
Unlike Sophie, Fiona and Michelle didn’t laugh when they saw him in the childish dress. They looked more surprised than anything else, until Fiona said, “That . . . kind of works.”
“Told you,” Sophie said. She had flipped the ‘good sister/daughter’ switch, no longer sounding smug about Sam’s current image, “A little make-up, and he’ll look just like a girl.”
“What about his hair?” Fiona asked. That was easily Sam’s most boy-ish feature at the moment. The bride-to-be still didn’t look entirely convinced, though she was less skeptical than before Sam had changed.
“We could give Sammie a pixie cut,” Sophie said, “Or hair extensions, maybe?” She paused, then belatedly added a suggestion that was less involved. “I guess we could find a hair band that matches the dress if he doesn’t want us messing with his hair.” Something told her Fiona wouldn’t go for that, when it wasn’t part of the original vision.
Sam was frustrated enough that they were talking about him when he was standing right there, not once asking about his thoughts or opinions. Not that there was a point, when they could all probably guess what he would say. “The dress doesn’t even fit,” he blurted out. It wasn’t a good sign that they were already talking about a makeover, rather than about the dress itself, “It’s too tight.”
“Let me see,” Michelle said. She walked over and tested a few spots, particularly how the straps sat on his shoulders and if the waistband of the tulle skirt worked on his hips. “It’s actually a really good fit,” she said, stepping back, “I hear Mia has started developing; you may be a little bigger than her, but you don’t have the hips or breasts of a girl.”
Sophie snorted. “So it balances out?”
Their mother shot Sophie a look, which prompted the girl to apologize. Then she returned her attention to Sam. “It’s only embarrassing if you make it embarrassing,” she said, “And I agree with Fiona. This could actually work. Why don’t you let Sophie do your make-up, while we talk about your hair.”
“But-” Sam started to protest.
“Do you want the car upgrade, or not?” she firmly asked, then glanced towards the older sister, “Fiona, it’s your decision. Do you think Sam could be our flower girl?”
Fiona nodded. “It’s worth trying. Do you really think he could pass as a girl, Soph?”
Managing to keep a straight face, since she had just experienced how she couldn’t get away with making fun of Sam in front of the others, Sophie said, “Totally. You know I’m good with make-up! I’ll try to do something with his hair, too.”
Sam tried to speak up again, only to be shut down by Michelle. “Fiona’s in charge,” she insisted, “Fiona? Do you want Sam to be an usher, or the flower girl?”
Asking was so pointless, when everyone present knew that their options were a lot more limited for the latter. It was just another way to make it clear that Sam was outnumbered where this absurd yet potentially viable idea was concerned. “I want Sam to be the flower girl,” Fiona affirmed, “We can find someone else to usher.”
At that, Michelle gave Sam a look. End of discussion. Between the carrot of getting a better car, as well as the reminder about how this was Fiona’s weekend, there wasn’t anything he could say. Not without sounding immature and selfish, no matter how awkward this was. His step-mother had also said the thing about how it was only embarrassing if he let himself get embarrassed, so that argument was out as well.
“Let’s go, Sam!” Sophie said. Playing innocent, like she always did to avoid trouble, she used his preferred name and didn’t hold his hand like she had on the way downstairs. Now that her teasing idea was actually becoming a reality, she didn’t want to risk messing with a good thing. Not until Sam was officially the flower girl, which Sophie was determined to make happen with her make-up talents.
The only silver lining Sam could find as he reluctantly followed was that he didn’t have to deal with all three of them seeing him in a dress. For the time being, at least. And, while the dress fit him better than he had expected, he still wasn’t convinced that this idea was realistic. It didn’t matter how talented Sophie was when it came to make-up. Sam was a boy; there was no way anyone would believe he was the opposite gender, nor as young as Mia was, regardless of his size.
Sophie seemed to believe the exact opposite. She led him to the guest bedroom where she was staying, where she grabbed the desk chair and placed it near the center of the room. According to her, it was for better lighting. Sam didn’t know enough about make-up to call her on it, though he suspected she had purposely picked the most awkward spot for him to sit.
Rather than starting with his face, Sophie grabbed a handful of bobby pins from her bag. “Hold still, Sammie,” she instructed him, “These are to keep your hair out of the way.” A solid half-truth. It would be easier to give him a makeover if she had full access to his face. This just happened to double as a way to do something less boy-ish with his dirty blonde locks in the meantime.
She pinned his bangs first, then added a few to each side for good measure. Humming to herself as she worked, which was actually a habit while she focused rather than how Sam assumed she was being smug, Sophie stepped back to admire her handiwork. It was more like he was a ballerina, with his hair done up so it would stay in place regardless of his movements. Not at all how a flower girl would wear it, though it was better than nothing; every little bit counted when convincing Fiona that they could pull this off.
Sam just begrudgingly sat there and let her work. At this point, complaining wouldn’t do him any good. He also didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of reacting as she added more and more pins to his hair. The same held true for the make-up Sophie was about to get started on. Flinching, wincing, etc. would only amuse his sister. It was kind of a lose/lose, as doing as he was told was also not great, though there was a little dignity to sitting there and pretending like he didn’t care.
Grabbing her make-up supplies and setting them down on the edge of the bed, Sophie started with a brush that she would use for Sam’s foundation. It wasn’t as ideal of a set-up as a desk or a counter would be; she didn’t mind the inconvenience, as it was totally worth it to make him visible to anyone who walked by or stepped into the room. Their relatives weren’t currently home, but still. She had to assume wearing a dress meant every little sound would make Sammie nervous.
Tempting as it was to go for something dramatically feminine, Sophie’s goal wasn’t just to embarrass Sam in the short-term. A petite boy like him didn’t have many masculine lines to begin with and, after a few quick passes with the initial brush, she proceeded to soften those features. Her other goal was to make him look more youthful, which honestly didn’t take that much effort. The end result was a much more natural look, almost like he was a tween girl who didn’t wear any make-up.
Sophie took a few steps back, smirking at how convincing the image was. From a slight distance, Sam really did look like a girl, and that was from the perspective of someone who knew who he really was. As she approached him again, the only thing she noticed upon getting closer was that he was wearing make-up. Which was fine. After all, 6th grade was around the time she started experimenting with that.
There were some other details they’d have to take care of for this to work. Sam’s body hair, for starters. The little blonde hairs on his arm were practically invisible, but the rest? While he really didn’t have that much compared to the average boy, the cute wisps on his chest and in his armpits were more than a twelve year old girl would have. And though the tulle skirt mostly covered Sam’s lower half, it would be really funny if he was told to shave his legs anyway.
“That should do it!” Sophie exclaimed. Dusting off her hands for effect, she grabbed Sam’s wrist and tugged him back towards the hall. It would be best if the other two saw the finished product before Sam caught a glimpse of his reflection.
Sam felt the complete opposite. He had been sitting still for what had felt like thirty minutes as Sophie worked on his face, and he would have much preferred finding a mirror before being presented to Fiona and Michelle. When he tried to pull the other way towards the bathroom, however, Sophie tightened her grip.
“Bad girl!” she chastised him, “Don’t be a brat, Sammie. Everyone’s waiting on us.”
Groaning in annoyance, Sam allowed himself to be taken downstairs instead. Part of it was the same issue as before, where walking at a faster pace in the skirt was a bit of a tripping hazard. And there would probably be hell to pay if he ended up causing any damage to the dress.
As soon as they entered the living room, Sophie announced her completed ‘project.’ Smiling, barely managing to keep the expression from looking malicious, she said, “Well, what do you think? Is Samantha your flower girl?”
. . . Samantha?
Before Sam was able to express his distaste for the female version of his name, Fiona blurted out, “Holy shit.” She quickly apologized for the language, then said, “I barely recognize him, Soph.”
“You barely recognize her,” Sophie giggled, further mis-gendering him. Spinning it like she was looking out for him, she said, “I think Sammie should be a girl all weekend. Wouldn’t that be less embarrassing than everyone knowing that a boy his age is the flower girl?” With how he currently looked, it wasn’t that difficult to hint that he should be ‘twelve’ like Mia, rather than his eighteen year old self.
The crazy part was, Sophie’s idea was perfectly reasonable. If Sam was going to be the flower girl, which he was still in denial about, it made a lot more sense to keep anyone from finding out about it. Except his pride was immediately in conflict with the logic of his step-sister’s idea, not to mention how she obviously had the ulterior motive of making him deal with the awkwardness and humiliation of pretending to be a girl for the entirety of their stay.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Michelle nodded, “Should we go with Samantha, or a random name?”
“I like Samantha,” Fiona said, “Then ‘Sammie’ still works. It will be better if he responds naturally to his name.”
“Better if she responds,” Sophie corrected in a similar manner, “If Samantha is a girl this weekend, we should all get used to her gender.”
“WAIT.” Sam raised his voice, unable to take it any more. This was all happening too quickly. The three of them were making decisions that were not nearly as natural for him to process as the one who was being pushed into the new role and opposite gender. “I’m not a girl! This is crazy.”
Sophie bit her tongue. She really wanted to say something, but at this point it was better to let Fiona and their mom take over. Now that they had seen ‘Samantha’ and talked about it for a few seconds, she knew that it was more or less a done deal.
“No one said you were a girl,” Michelle pointed out, “We’re just going to let everyone think that. Think of this as a wedding gift to your sister. And next week, we’ll take you to get that car. Okay?”
“But-” he started, not sure what to say about how this was unfolding.
“This will literally save the wedding,” Fiona said, “And no one has to know it’s you. Please, Sam?”
As if it was up to him at this point. The older sister’s energy just sealed his fate in terms of gently nudging him away from another round of arguing.
When Sam didn’t push back, Michelle took his silence as reluctant agreement. “Samantha, then,” she said, “Let’s try and get used to that. Sophie, she’ll need some clothes for the weekend. Do you two want to run to the store? Samantha, go change out of your dress.”
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