At Pink Towers

Tammy looked adorable in her usual well-stuffed blue tee and a new little pink chequered skirt with pleats in.

"What do you think, Josephine?" she asked me fitfully, indicating it. "I thought it would do. For...um..."

She fidgeted, too frightened to even say aloud that she had one-on-one netball with Maureen next.

"It'll do more than do," I told her encouragingly. "Butch won't be able to keep her eyes off you!"

"Don't let Maureen hear you calling her that!" Tammy whispered, wide-eyed.

I was scared and glanced behind me, like I thought my knickers could be seen from the back. With great relief I confirmed that Maureen was nowhere around, then looked back to Tammy and crinkled my nose at her.

"Phew, close one!" I exclaimed.

"I'd never have dared even say it!" cried Tammy, hitching at the front of her tee then fidgeting again, to finish off with the sweetest little bounce. "She's probably going to murder me anyway even as it is!"

Poor Tammy sounded like she was about to cry. I drew her comfortingly close, kissed her on top of her golden curls, and said:

"You've got the nicest boobs of any girl I know. You'd be way better than a boy, if we ever got round to it. And best of all, you smell great. So what's a little bit of brutal murder on the netball court anyway?"

"Come on, let's practice before she gets here," Tammy begged me, and ran onto the court.

I hurried after her with dainty little steps, because I wasn't wearing a bra so was bouncing way too much for gym. Honestly, they'd been driving me up the wall lately, like they were twice their usual size. Could just be I needed to try wearing a bra! But with no boys around, was there much point?

Tammy caught up a spare ball, and holding it in both hands heaved in a deep breath which was well worth watching.

"Right," she announced in a tremulous voice. "Watch this."

The ball, and the front of Tammy's tee, began to bounce rhythmically as she set off at a steady walk.

"Really good, Tammy!" I cried, dancing alongside her like I was her own personal cheerleader. "You're going to drive Butch crazy if you keep that up!"

She actually looked more anxious than I imagined Maureen had ever done in her big beefy life. Tammy was quivering perceptibly, and the tail of her little skirt bumped on her pushed-out butt. Her lovely blue eyes were shot though with a darting expression. I knew that what she was doing right now was driving her almost frantic with fear, even though there wasn't an opponent to try and take the ball!

After a second or so Tammy tried to change hands as she walked, but fumbled it, and the ball got away.

"Aw," I said sympathetically. "You're just scared. Try again!"

There was a real flush across Tammy's cute nose as she recovered the ball. "Well," pronounced the girl, now sounding extremely pert and prim, "then watch this!"

She set off walking again. Wow, if she poked her butt out much further than that she'd have real trouble keeping her knickers hidden! Like I wasn't looking, but Tammy's white socks and sneakers seemed to have having trouble staying steady too, because her supposedly measured steps suggested she was close to distraction. In no time at all the ball squirted from under her fingertips.

Helplessly she stamped her foot, ran after the ball and grabbed it again. I knew well enough you had to stand clear of Tammy when she got like this! Crimson all over, she fumed aloud:

"Now just watch!"

She tried to shoot for the net, and missed by a mile. Then with both hands she grasped the hem of her tee, tugged at it so that this time she really did bounce, then in defeat flapped both palms on her little bare thighs.

"I'll never get it right!" she declared tearfully.

I did feel sorry for her. Fiercely Tammy dried her eyes.

"It's not that I'm frightened," she declared, trying to scoff the words haughtily though her voice quavered. "I can play this game just as well as Maureen can!" and her big eyes blinked imploringly at me.

"Better," I assured her at once. "I'm the one who struggles at gym," and that bit at least was true.

"I'm not better, Josephine," moped the contrary one, scuffing the toe of her sneaker on the court. "I just want to prove I'm as good as her."

I pictured Maureen, who looked like a lump of cow-fat which had somehow congealed inside a gym skirt. Then I turned back to Tammy, our very own bouncy hormonal Goldilocks, in her pink miniskirt which every girl and half the staff wouldn't have minded getting underneath of.

"You're better," I repeated firmly.

THE END