the wig but I think we ought to get you one of those of your own too.'

Lyndon was dismayed. 'You mean I'll have to wear a tunic with a...a skirt?'

'Of course, darling, girls don't play basketball in shorts.'

'I didn't think of that,' the effeminized boy groaned,' I'm not sure this is such a good idea. What if someone were to find out.'

'Don't be so silly dear. How could they. It's a secret between you and Dianne and Mrs. Smith and myself. We're not going to tell anyone.'

'No I guess not,' Lyndon was still downcast however.

'Now you take yourself off to bed. Leave the wig out so's I can take it back to Mrs. Smith tomorrow.'

Lyndon went off to his bedroom and took off the sweatshirt and the bra and put the bra away in one of his drawers and took off the wig and put it on the dresser. He forgot about the make-up and climbed into bed and soon was asleep.

Next evening as soon as he ar- rived home his mother took him off to the bedroom to show him what she had bought. There was a new wig in a younger looking style more suited to a girl his age and laid out on the bed two white padded bras, two pairs of white lycra sports panties, a navy practice tunic and another in the colors of the Cranebrook Junior High. On the dresser he saw what he recognised to be some boxes and tubes of women's cosmetics.

He blanched at the thought of having to wear all this stuff but he also knew he had committed himself and there was no way

out.

'Darling there are just two things we'll have to do I'm afraid to make you more realistic. Your legs are just a touch to hairy for a girl so we'll have to shave them but no-one will notice that because you'll cover them most of the time with your long pants. The other is that we should just pluck a few eyebrow hairs, not to change the shape in any way, just to emphasise their shape like a girl would do.'

Lyndon groaned and shrugged and went off to the bathroom where under the shower he lathered and shaved all the hair

off his legs. Afterwards his mother plucked his eyebrows for him and then helped him into the bra and panties, the tunic with its little short skirt and a pair of girls joggers which are made a little differently from boy's. Then she put on his wig and tied the pigtails like they would have to be tied when he played and finally she made up his face with foundation, a touch of mascara, blusher and a pink lipstick.

'There you are my sweet, pretty as a picture,' Mrs. Watson an- nounced proudly when she had finished and Lyndon went to the mirror to see. She was right. There he was, pretty as a picture. He felt quite strange about the girl in the mirror, pleased that she was pretty enough for him to be able to get away with the charade but pleased for another reason too, which he couldn't quite put his finger on.

He turned to his mother. don't know whether you should have bought the school tunic - 8 -.

yet since I havn't been chosen in the team, but since you have may I try it on?'

'Of course you can, darling.'

He replaced the practice tunic with the cream and green com- petition tunic and as soon as he had it on he became quite de- ternimed that he would wear it and play for his school. No- thing was going to stop him this

time.

'Why don't you go and show Dianne. I'm sure she'd love to see how you look since it was all her idea,' his mother said from behind him.

A few moments later he knocked at the back door of the Smith household and Dianne's mother opened the door.

'Hello,' she smiled,' you must be one of Dianne's basketball friends. Do I know you?'

'I'm Lyndon, Mrs. Smith or at least I suppose I'm Lynda right at the moment.'

'Oh my gosh so you are. And how pretty you look. Dianne's up finishing her assignment. Why don't you go up and sur- prise her.'

At the top of the stairs he knocked on Dianne's door, and

in just a moment the door opened and there stood Dianne, clad only in a completely diaphanous baby doll nightie. This was another in a sequence embarrassing events for Lyndon and for a moment he didn't quite know where to look. But Dianne was utterly un- phased by his presense.

of

'Hi,' she said gaily,' hey, don't you look terrific. New