That wasn’t fair.
If it was a secret, then how was I supposed to know about it?
My mother also looked upset, so clearly she found it unfair as well. She crossed her arms and harrumphed in that way she always did when he knew she was right.
“It is not. I checked your dress code, and this clothing meets all of your rules.”
The principal took a deep breath and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose the same way that mom said I should do whenever I got a nosebleed.
Was the man hurt?
He didn’t seem to be bleeding. Maybe the pinching off the blood worked just like mother said it would.
When the principal spoke again, he didn’t shout this time, but his words were clipped and short like they’d lost a few letters on the way out of his mouth.
“Your son’s clothing may meet the dress code forfemalestudents, but I shouldn’t have to tell you why this is inappropriate.”
The principal gestured at me with one hand.
I followed that gesture, looking down at myself again, trying to find what was wrong with my clothes that seemed so obvious to him.
The flower print skirt. The white shirt with the little pink buttons. The black shoes with the big gold buckle. The white lace socks.
Yep, everything was the same as usual.
Beside me, my mother stood up and slammed a book down on the principal’s desk.
“There is nothing in your school’s dress code about clothing specifically for girls and boys. See.” She pointed at something in the book. “Right there. Clothing is simply listed for all students.”
The principal didn’t even look at what she was pointing at and simply pushed the book aside.
“Some things don’t have to be written out. They are understood. Most people already understand that it is inappropriate for a boy to show up to class wearing a skirt. It’s distracting for the other students. Now, this can all be settled easily if Mia simply wears more gender appropriate clothing from now on.”
“But…”
My mother looked over at me, her eyes large like they got when she hadn’t slept for a while.
“But those are my child’s clothes. Mia picked them out.”
She sat down in her chair but leaned so far over against mine that her weight pressed down on my armrest.
Tip, click.
My chair shifted toward her.
“Right, Mia? You like your clothes, don’t you?”
Did I like my clothes?
No one had ever asked me that before. It was a strange question. Mother always picked out my clothes and told me what I had to wear. She said this was something all moms did. Whether or not I liked the clothes had never come up before, so I’d never even thought about it.
Her hand landed on my arm, squeezing just hard enough to get my attention. She didn’t say anything, but she stared at me with those too-large eyes. The tired eyes that meant she needed to sleep more.
Oh, right. I remembered now.
No one had ever asked me if I liked my clothes, but mother had once told me what to say if anyone asked that question.
Now that I knew the right answer, I relaxed and put on a big smile.