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Ballerina Boy Billy - Part 1
🕑 Added 2020-10-05 05:30:05 +0000 UTCSUMMARY - Billy takes Melissa's place at Madame Olga's ballet class after his sister drops out. But unwittingly he has another agenda which leads him into a number of situations beyond his control, leading ultimately to his wish to become a fully-fledged ballerina being granted.
The Liar
"Bye, bye Billy!" Melissa called cheerily as she closed the front door behind her, trotting down the path to join dad in the car for her trip to school.
Meanwhile, I was staggering down the stairs still half- asleep after my early morning foray into the garden while everyone else was still in bed. I could see mum out in the garden collecting the still damp washing off the line as I went into the kitchen to fix my breakfast. However, the sound of the letterbox rattling as the mail dropped on the doormat had me scurrying to retrieve the large package addressed to 'Miss Darcey Fielding', which I had been desperately waiting for all week.
"Was that the postman Billy?" she called, so I promptly stuffed my prize down the front of my trousers. "Yes Mum, but it just looks like bills!"
I handed her the mail, quietly enjoying my little joke. I was soon seated in the dining room watching the Big Breakfast, tucking into my usual plate of cereal. I was washing it down with the last of the milk as my mother poked her head around the door.
"That clothesline thief has stolen another pair of Melissa's knickers! That's her white knitted crossover, she keeps as a memento from her ballet days, a pink blouse, and a pair of her frilly white socks all gone in less than a month!" she sighed with frustration. "I can't understand why it's always Melissa's things that are stolen, never anyone else's, apart from the young girl three doors along," she continued. At least that's what her mother tells me."
"There must be a pervert prowling about who gets his kicks out of stealing little girl's clothes," I responded but she looked at me in horror.
"Where did you learn such talk, Billy? You shouldn't know about such things at your age! I'm a little worried about you!"
"Sorry Mum, but we hear all sorts of rude talk at school these days."
"Well, you shouldn't listen to such things and just walk away."
'Great!' I thought, 'My pals think I'm sissy enough without doing that!' But mother, having vented her disapproval had gone off to get her breakfast.
"Who's used all the milk? Did you use it Billy?" she called out as I gulped down the remains in my glass, hoping she wouldn't notice.
"No Mum, I think Melissa took it." I could hear her fuming away in the kitchen. She came in sitting down wearily with a cup of white coffee made with powdered milk and a slice of toast and marmalade.
"Are you going to ballet school tonight Billy?"
"No not tonight, just to the library on the way home," I said. "I should back home around seven."
"Well it gets dark around then so be back before seven," she said biting into her toast. "Come to think of it you always seem to go there but you never seem to get any books. You don't have a schoolboy crush on the young librarian with the pretty blonde hair, do you, Billy?"
"No of course not!" I stammered, as my mind pictured the dishy miss in question, My thoughts became intertwined together with reading all the articles on my favorite subjects ballet and one other that I would rather not mention right now! Nevertheless, I used my feigned embarrassment and my empty plate and glass as an excuse to quit the room. I rushed upstairs to examine the contents of my package, still tucked uncomfortably down the front of my trousers.
"Yes. Yes. Yes!" I shouted with glee as my feverish hands tore away the wrappings to reveal my first pair of ballet 'Pointes'. They'd taken a while to buy with all my savings and money filched from my mother's purse. I examined them closely and they were beautiful handmade creations, in white satin, with the maker's name impressed into the leather sole of each shoe.
My reverie was broken when mum called upstairs, "come on Billy time for school, you'll be late again if you're not careful."
"I'll just be a second," I replied hiding them in my hidey-hole under the floor with all my other treasures.
I then dashed off downstairs and grabbed my schoolbag from the sideboard. But in my haste I knocked a cut glass fruit bowl to the floor where it smashed to smithereens, as Fred our cat fled off in terror, mum rushed in to view the damage.
Naturally, I blamed the cat for the incident. I pecked good old mum on the cheek and set out for King's School. Cock a hoop at how easily I could fool my elders and evade responsibility for my misdemeanors. As I sauntered slowly towards the school I remembered the recent pattern of events that had led me to acquire my very own ballet blocks.
Melissa, my 14-year-old older sister had been attending ballet classes at Madame Olga's since for as long as I could remember. Then last month she had suddenly packed it in. I presumed she'd done that because she'd developed an intense interest in swimming, thanks to Dad's decision to build a small indoor pool onto the house.
I was bitterly disappointed by her sudden decision because through her I'd established a keen interest as she'd unwittingly passed on to me many of the ballet skills and nuances that she'd learned over the years. Although I was supposed to be just a casual observer I took a keener interest during her frequent practices in our games room than she realized. When invited I joined in with her as and
when invited but it was always in childish fun and not seriously.
Melissa had also accumulated a sizable selection of ballet videos, which I could secretly view to my heart's content. It included my favorite ballet called 'Little Rascals' that enjoyed watching again and again. I never missed the end of term concerts and the visits of touring ballet companies in nearby Henley, our local town.
Unbeknown to everyone else in the family, I was diligently practicing on my own account in the disused sun house at the bottom of the garden. Therewith only the apple trees of the small orchard for the company I practiced often even
pressing into service an old wooden clotheshorse as a makeshift 'barre'. Thanks to my deep interest and despite being two years younger I was just as accomplished as my sister.
However, as time passed, I wasn't just happy dancing like her, I felt like I wanted to be her when I danced Incredibly out of the sight of prying eyes and over two long years, I was able to play the part, almost to my complete satisfaction.
An Unselfish Act!
When I got home from school, Melissa was in the middle of one blazing row with mum.
"I never ever want to see another pair of ballet shoes again," she shouted down the stairs.
"But why dear, you enjoyed it so much?" asked mum trying to get her to reconsider.
"I realized that I have just done it to please you," Melissa screamed, "well I want my own life."
"But you were so good, why waste all those lessons?" Mum pleaded.
"No Mum, my mind's made up I dumped all my ballet stuff in a skip at the end of the road last week. I'm not going back!" she said crying.
"Melissa, how could you do that?"
"Easy because I don't want to waste any more time trying to be something I wasn't cut out to be," she wailed.
"Darling you had talent, your teacher said so."
"No Mum, if you want a ballerina in the family Billy can be it!" Melissa said. "It won't be me."
Although the argument ended I could see Mum was really upset and disappointed at this change in Melissa. Her view of the future, real or imagined was that she had mapped out a career in dancing for her only daughter.
Over dinner, Dad backed Melissa by telling Mum, "Just let Melissa go and let her enjoy spare time in any way she sees fit."
"Easy for you to say," said Mum unhappily.
"Look dear as long she's not going out with pushy boyfriends or she's not into drugs or she isn't ill then I don't mind what she does. So long as she's happy okay," he said.
Mum nodded reluctantly.
Of course, I was upset too, so in a gallant gesture I then selflessly offered myself up as the sacrificial lamb on the altar of mother's driving ambition by going along with Melissa's suggestion.
"Let me take her place in the ballet class," I suggested.
"That's very noble of you, Billy, but you don't know anything about ballet," she replied.
My father just doubled up with hysterics at my idiotic remark.
"Oh yes he does Mum, he's quite accomplished, I've seen him when he practiced with me," said Melissa jumping in hoping I would take over her unwanted role with our Mother.
However, all that did was to make Dad laugh more and more. I heard his mocking laughter as it pursued me up the stairs to my bedroom. I wasn't going to wait for him to say anything as I ran up to my room deeply upset. I wept the rest of the evening away and was awake so I could hear my parents still arguing over my suggestion through the bedroom wall that separated us.
"Look here Laura, I don't want my son taking any sissy ballet lessons," he said angrily. "He's never done it before and I really don't want him starting now!"
"Why?" she asked, "So it makes you less of a man?"
"You know what I mean," he said. "In any case, he's too old to take it up! He can't be very fit, he's never been any
good at sports and we always have to write notes about him being excused from doing sports at school."
But mum was now taking cudgels up on my behalf, "Now listen Harry, boys are advised not to attempt ballet exercises until much older than girls. So why shouldn't he? At least he can try if what Melissa says is true. You said Melissa could spend her spare time pleasing herself what she did, within reason that is. So why not Billy?"
Dad piped up, "That boy knows exactly how to twist you
around his little finger!"
"His last report card was good and he helps around the house, so why not?"
"Laura he isn't interested in ballet," said Dad exasperatedly. "Remember when I took him fishing, how he wanted his own rod, and then when I bought it he didn't go back?"
"Yes I remember that you pushed him into doing something he didn't want to do," she replied. "For once this is something he wants to do."
"Come on Laura, he just wants to become more of a mummy's pet than he already is! I don't know what his reasons are but I don't trust him!"
I don't know what mum hit him with, but dad let out quite a howl before slinking off to sleep in the spare bedroom!
Mum obviously won the day as usual. For the following Saturday afternoon, after the other pupils had gone home from their lessons, mother duly presented me to Madame Olga for an impromptu audition.
So with Madame Olga playing the piano and me wearing one of Melissa's old one-piece swimsuits, a discarded pair of her ballet slippers that Mum had found in her cupboard and I stood waiting anxiously.
I didn't want to give too much away. I played along with the barre work, and some basic floor exercises for at least 20 minutes. While I stood getting my breath back I could tell that Madame was impressed at how polished my performance had been.
"If you're serious Billy then I can see no reason why you shouldn't take the place of your sister. You'll have a lot of catching up to do," she said standing up and walking towards me with her hand outstretched.
As we shook, mum was ecstatic when I was accepted in Melissa's place.
"It's a great pity Melissa gave up her efforts to become a ballerina Mrs. Fielding, but hopefully, young Billy will take her place instead!"
So while mum went off to see about changing the name in the application, Madame sat beside me as I changed. She asked me discreetly, "Where did you learn to dance like that? You've been dancing on your own, haven't you Billy? I'm most impressed you're very fit and your small frame means you almost a natural feminine grace."
The gravity of Madame's remark may have escaped mother, but it certainly wasn't wasted on me. I gave a big 'hooray' to that!
Mum stopped by a shop on the way home and bought me all the necessary male ballet clothing and shoes on the list the school had given her and on the following Wednesday evening, I began my first proper lesson.
That didn't worry me so much as the rest of the first-year boys at school who found out about my lessons from Rod Carter whose sister was in my class at ballet lessons.
I remember that Thursday morning well as I had to put up with some cruel jokes and back thumping until the bell went at 9am. Then it went on the break and again at lunch. By the home time I was very unhappy, I'd been involved in two fights and was nursing a cut lip and a black eye.
As I walked home I was glad it was over for the day and I'd given two of my assailants bleeding noses. Thankfully, just name-calling and ridiculing from some of the boys became the order of the day after that, but Tom and James; my best friends still stood by me.
During the next few days, I kept on thinking about my newly acquired treasures waiting for me at home. A pair of Melissa's flowery knickers and my very own ballet blocks!
Despite the snow-laden skies, I stopped on the way home to purchase four yards of inch wide white satin ribbon and some white cotton wool. With no one around, I began the laborious task of reinforcing the toes of my blocks with cross-stitching and sewing on the four satin ribbons.
As I sewed, I remembered the private conversation I'd had with Madame Olga a few days earlier. I'd plucked up the courage to ask her if I could wear ballet blocks and do some 'en Pointe work with the girls to get a feel for it.
She looked me up and down sharply saying, "You should know by now Billy, that boys aren't built like girls. It's out of the question! It's hard enough getting enough boys interested in ballet as it is. You can't all be girls, furthermore, you want to run when you can barely walk!"
Despite my tearful pleadings, she was adamant, refusing to be moved on the issue, and that was the reason I'd decided to set up an agenda all of my own. So wearing just a pair of ballet pumps, (suffering considerable pain and discomfort) I had secretly practiced my en Pointe work. My beribboned blocks would now make the task to emulate my sister that much easier!
It took quite some time to complete the sewing job and I eventually finished just before my lesson on Saturday morning such was the care I took. I had to undress, hurriedly change into my practice gear in order not to be late for my lesson. I grabbed my ballet bag on the way out, stuffing my ballet blocks into my coat pocket for the twenty-minute walk to ballet school. On the way, I gave Mrs. Kelly, that nosey neighbor of ours, a cheeky grin as I passed.
Caught Out!
During the lesson, Madame congratulated me on my barre work. "Well done Billy, you are making so much progress."
However, on hearing this, Diana, her daughter who was working next to me at the barre, made her feelings quite clear that she didn't approve of my encouragement from her mother. Much taller, she looked down disdainfully at me before rushing out of the lesson with the others. But, then she was even more of a 'madam' than her mother, so that was no great surprise. She certainly didn't have any time whatsoever for us boys. She was always adopting a snooty, superior 'holier than thou' attitude in our presence.
With the class dismissed, I dived off well away from the other dancers, grabbed my bag and coat from its hook in the boy's tiny changing room. My plan was to dash down the corridor to the back of the building where unobserved I would hide in the props store. There was a huge wicker basket in the corner of the room and I climbed in amongst a mass of brightly colored, elaborately decorated ballet tutus. As I closed the lid behind me, I sniggered at the thought that the girl's costume basket sometimes didn't only contain ballet tutus!
I recalled the occasion when I first looked in there after I had gone to watch Melissa in class. While she was changing I'd discovered the room and had the idea of looking at the costumes again.
I could hear the voices in the other rooms and it was very difficult not to laugh or sneeze with the stiffened nets constantly tickling my face and body. I was about to sneeze but managed to suppress it when I heard someone enter the room to apparently check that it was empty and then moments later I heard the key turn in the front door. There were shouts of, "see you next Wednesday girls." and then, "you did very well Marcia!" Then there was silence followed by Madame's old car starting up.
I quickly scrambled out of my hiding place and went over to the second-hand costume box and selected a practice outfit. Then with frantic speed and some excitement, I stripped off my white singlet, black pumps, white socks, black ballet tights, and finally my white pants.
Then I took out Melissa's knickers from my bag and put them on. I found some pink tights and after three goes found a pair big enough and hole-free to fit me. With myself arrayed in the pair of pink tights, I put on a blue practice dress with a tiny multi-layered net tutu skirt and Melissa's stolen white knitted cross over which I tied in a bow at the back.
I sat down on a chair to try on my brand new satin ballet blocks. As I laced up the ribbons around my pantyhose covered legs I was in sheer heaven! It felt odd moving in the blocks after using pumps but next, I headed for a long blonde wig resting on a shelf in the back of the room. I removed the polyethylene bag cover and looking in a small mirror I'd brought expertly placed it on my head. I combed out the tangles with a tail comb and tied my new hair back with a blue Alice band.
Now I was finally ready for my 'grand entrance' but instead I just scurried down the corridor back towards the practice studio like a frightened rabbit. I reveled at how daring I was dressed as a female ballerina venturing into a now-familiar place but in a different and exciting role. I halted briefly to wipe my blocks in the rosin box, then onwards into the studio, my heart pumping away with fear and pleasure in equal measure.
'Yes, she was there again,' I smiled at the reflected girl in the vast expanse of mirrored glass, the delightful creature that filled up my dreams. I strode purposely towards the practice barre carefully pointing my toes as I'd seen Melissa and the girls do to repeat my warm-up exercises before trying out my new 'points'.
Within 10 minutes I was practicing at the center, develops to arabesques, sissonnes, pirouettes, even disastrous grande jetes, but it was so much more enjoyable and comfortable on blocks than when wearing sanitized linen pumps. I was that prima ballerinas who had a huge smile of satisfaction on her face reflected in the mirror and felt wonderful.
I was halfway through a port de bras when suddenly I saw the door open behind me, and in walked Diana! I turned to face her as she slowly paced the room a broad smirk on that snooty face of hers as I stammered, "I thought everyone had gone home."
She just ignored my irrelevant remark, "Ah so you are the new girl here! Mummy will just love to have such an obviously talented ballerina in her school, and oh such a pretty one too. That's a real bonus!"
At that moment I caught sight of myself once again in the mirror behind her, but this time the ballerina was no longer confident and poised. She was now just trying to pretend to be something she wasn't. She was nervously fingering the hems of the dress, worried uncertainty etched on her face, as she was about to be openly taunted by her worst enemy.
"I just love your ballet dress dear, where did you get it?"
But the 'frog princess' couldn't even raise a croak, standing there waiting for the next assault on my sensibilities.
"I just loved your pas de bourse pique, it was so elegant I could hug you to death!" She was now sauntering around me as I stood flat-footed fixed to the spot watching her circle me. Diana's face a picture of triumph while mine was low.
"We have a boy called Billy in class who thinks he can practice 'en pointe', but he can't and he never will!"
"Umm," I stuttered but found my voice, "but Diana, I'm Billy and I can do it! You just saw me do it!"
"But you can't be Billy, Billy went home ages ago, I saw him myself! Besides he certainly wasn't dressed in a girl's regulation practice outfit the way you are," she giggled slightly but confidently as she then held out my coat, which she'd carried into the room. I tried to speak but she continued.
"But Billy seems to have forgotten his coat when he left, so you may as well borrow it!" she said leading me to stamp my foot in frustration.
"I am Billy, you stuck up bitch!"
"Tut-tut little girl such language from one so young and dainty as you! Aunty Diana will have to put you over her knee and smack your cute little botty!" She really had me on the ropes now as tiny teardrops began to form, and run down my scarlet cheeks. "There there, don't cry pet, I'll let you borrow my old furry lined coat instead of Billy's, since it's started to snow outside, and sensitive little girls like you won't want to wear smelly boy's things."
With the tears welling up inside me I decided the best form of defense would be a tactical retreat.
"Gulp! Well, Diana, I'm ready to leave now, but as you can see I must go and change." With the element of surprise, I dashed out of the studio, and down the corridor to the props room. However, Diana had out-thought me as I discovered the locked door with my bag and clothes still inside. Although I tried to force the door open with my shoulder, it wouldn't give, and as I turned around I found Diana standing behind me.
"Yes, we will have to leave now Wendy," she said, "I know you don't mind me calling you that! But I have to lock up!"
"I do mind!" I snarled but I dug a bigger hole with my next statement. "My name is Darcey when I'm dressed like this!" My face went ashen at my naive admission, which pleased Diana no end, so I wailed, "But I can't go home dressed like this!"
"Well all the other girls do, so why should you be so different and object, so now 'Darcey', why don't you 'Bussell' off home!"
"For a start, I'm not a girl, as you well know, and I want my proper clothes back!" I said trying to be threatening.
"Really," she said. "From where I'm standing you look like a girl, you dress like a girl, you sound just like a girl, you dance like a girl and you cry like a girl, so don't be so bashful, just put on my furry coat and we can walk home. There's a good girl!"
"I won't!" I blazed, stamped my foot in anger, and then pulled the wig off my head. "You can go to hell! I want my clothes back!"
My cheek stung as Diana slapped me hard across the face, as she replaced my wig on my head and retorted, "You do as you are told or else!"
With the tears streaming down my face, I took her royal blue coat with its white furry hood, and as I slid it around my shoulders. Before I could find the armholes, Diana had zipped it up the front trapping my arms by my sides before bending down and sliding a pair of woolly leg warmers over my pink-colored legs.
"There now that wasn't too bad, was it?"
She stood up and taking me firmly by the arm, escorted me down the corridor and out into the half-light of the street, locking the door behind us.
There was no escape for me now. I was committed to an embarrassing confrontation with either Mum or Dad or both unless I could figure out a way of getting to my room unobserved. Maybe I could outrun her but with my arms inside the coat that made that difficult.
"I'll just make sure you get home safely Wendy," she said leading me down the cold busy streets on the way home. People would stare but then I was dressed as a girl and it wasn't me but at the powder, blue tutu poking provocatively from beneath Diana's coat. If anything I was more worried about how my new ballet pointes would be affected by the snow. I could see that despite the snow they weren't getting wet and there was no slush to ruin them.
So I startled several pedestrians as I waddled and slipped flat-footed alongside her in the thin coating of snow.
As we neared my home I stopped and faced Diana, my teeth chattering in the cold," Diana I think I can make it from here, it's snowing quite hard Diana and it's further out of your way."
But she wasn't going to take the bait, "No young lady. I'm going to make sure you don't try to sneak in a back way!"
So I continued to plod my way towards home in the safe custody of Diana, who was so much taller and stronger than me. As we went in the gate, I could see the lights were on in the house and the car was in the driveway. I tried to stall because I knew everyone was home including my sister. However, Diana strode purposefully with me in tow up the steep steps to the front door, rang the bell, and pushed a plastic shopping bag she was carrying into the frozen fingers of one of my trapped hands.
"There you are home safe and sound," she whispered in my ear before she beat a hasty retreat down the road as Mother opened the front door and I immediately squeezed past her.
"Sorry Mum, I forgot my key," I shouted on the run and I made a beeline for the stairs.
"Billy! Is that you? Come back here at once!" she commanded and I stopped on the first step of the stairs, turned, and padded back towards her wishing the ground would just open and swallow me. However, there was no such luck as Melissa appeared at the kitchen door to see what was going on.
"Now come in the kitchen sonny Jim, we want a word with you!" said mum "What on earth are you wearing that for?"
Melissa sniggered as Mum continued, gesturing at Diana's coat and its white furry hood framing my cold bright red face.
"Take it off!" she commanded.
"But Mum, I'm cold!" I whined not wanting to be exposed.
"Where is your coat, Billy?" snapped mother impatiently,
"And where are your new shoes?" asked Melissa as she looked down at my white satin blocks. "Oh, my word blocks!" Then her eyes opened even wider at the sight of my pink ballet tights and the short flimsy powder blue tutu peeping from beneath Diana's short coat.
"Get that coat off now!" barked Mum as the tears began to stream down my cheeks.
"I can't, my arms are trapped inside!" I cried helplessly, tears dripping down my cheeks in shame.
Melissa could now see the predicament I was in, so she obligingly unhooked the zip fastener as the coat slid from my shoulders, to reveal her white crossover and the rest of my practice outfit in all its female glory! Mum then grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and amidst loud laughter from Melissa I was frog-marched into the lounge where Dad was busy reading the evening paper.
"Here he is Father, he's all yours!" Dad looked up from the paper at the sound of Mum's voice and a look of disbelief spread over his face. I don't think he could quite understand what was going on.
"What the devil are you wearing a girl's wig for Son?" He threw down the paper, jumped up but when he caught sight of my powder-blue tutu, he staggered back into his chair in shock!
"I," I started to speak in defense but nothing came out.
"What are you doing in that outfit?" he asked. "Oh God Laura it's a girl's outfit!"
"Why do you think I brought him in to see you," said Mum. "Do something!"
"I always said you would end up a pansy!" said Dad staring at me his eyes were blazing mad.
"Billy's a Jessie," said Melissa from the doorway behind me. 'Thanks, Sis,' I thought, 'just what I needed.'
"I was right, ballet lessons!" yelled Dad, "That's only for sissies and girls, and now look at him, he is one! I can't bear to look at you!" Then turned his back in disgust and walked towards the fire deeply upset.
"Where is your ballet kit?" asked mother as in between sobs I tried to explain.
"Umm. We had fancy dress at ballet class today," I lied. "All the boys had to dress up as girls and I left my gear behind because we didn't have time to change back."
My lie wasn't helped when my mother opened up the plastic bag she was carrying to discover all my clothes inside. "Well not only is he dressed like a girl he's also a liar because his coat, clothes, and ballet gear are right here in this bag."
I tried to collect my thoughts, "But I was forced to wear these clothes!" I wailed, feeling hopelessly trapped in my alter ego.
"But surely Billy, the girls wouldn't do that to you, and in any case, why didn't you change before you came home?" she asked but before I could think of a reply she continued.
"After all, your lesson finished over an hour ago, unless of course, you flew into the library dressed like that! I'm quite sure your young librarian friend would have been most impressed!"
But even I could tell my parents were neither laughing nor joking, I had taken the bait and was now in big trouble. They no longer had amused smiles on their faces as they continued their questions.
"Have you ever stolen anything Billy?"
"No Mum, of course not!" I spluttered, feeling hotter by the minute.
"Do you tell lies then Billy?" asked Dad.
"No! Never!" I answered defiantly.
"Perhaps Mrs. Kelly next door tells lies then?"
"How do you mean Mum?" I asked groaning inside under this onslaught.
"Well Mrs. Kelly said she saw you take Melissa's white ballet jumper and her knickers off the line this morning, is that true?"
"No of course not Mum, why should I do such a thing?"
Mum's eyes gleamed with triumph "Perhaps then young man, you would kindly explain why you are wearing her crossover right now!"
"This isn't her jumper Mum, it's somebody else's," I lied again.
