4. Makeover Takeover

The suburban home of Colonel Boyd, away on a vital five-year mission, now run and ruled by Aunt Edwina Strictland, no-nonsense guardian to Boyd’s precocious teenage daughter…

SPLASH!

In the backyard, a stripped Tommy is unceremoniously dumped into a large barrel of water by Frankie and Pimples. She bobs to the surface, spits out a stream of water, struggles in vain to get out… Fat chance! Watching with folded arms and a raised eyebrow is unsmiling Aunt Edwina, flanked by self-satisfied Marcia Sloan and an amused Chad. A bunch of neighborhood kiddies are also milling about, playing in the backyard and laughing at the soaked tomboy as she tries rather haphazardly to escape her unexpected “bath.”

“Aren’t you ashamed, Tomasina Boyd?” Aunt Edwina scolds her splashing, waterlogged niece. “Indulging in sports instead of playing house, fighting with boys instead of learning to serve them. No wonder you smell of unfeminine body odor!”

“I do NOT SMELL!” an indignant Tommy shouts, only to have her head plunged under the soapy water again by devil-may-care Frankie. “This’ll knock the fight outta her,” the grinning greaser informs everyone assembled. “Absolutely,” agrees nearby Pimples, who happily helps his best pal restrain their struggling arch-adversary.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Strictland,” Marcia tells the old lady gently. “I realize ‘tough love’ can be a little difficult at times, but if we’re ever going to help Tomasina through her disastrous adolescence, we’ll simply have to remain strong, and forever committed to her rehabilitation.”

“Sometimes I wonder if anything will help,” Edwina shakes her head philosophically. “But I’ll not shirk my duty, nor go back on the promise I made her father. Tomasina Boyd will indeed become a feminine, well-mannered lady, even if turning her into one kills me in the process.”

“There, there, good lady,” Marcia coos, warmly taking Edwina’s arm. “You’re not alone in this trial, just remember that.”

Chad can’t resist a titter, which preoccupied Edwina fortunately doesn’t catch. Meanwhile, Frankie finally lifts poor Tommy’s dripping head from the water. Momentarily rendered docile, she stares blankly ahead as her unrelenting bather proceeds to savagely rub harsh soap all over her face. Pimples laughs, and all the little children present giggle, as helpless Tommy is mercilessly scrubbed by an unfriendly hand, her aroused breasts and erect nipples bobbing to the barrel water’s surface periodically.

“Oh, Miss Sloan,” sighs Aunt Edwina with near-swooning gratitude. “Your words have revived my flagging spirits, as I see there is at least one proper young lady in this city who takes seriously her social responsibilities. Bless you, child.” Edwina then turns her dart-like gaze to the soaked and soaped Tommy, who has gradually regained some of her senses. “And you, Tomasina,” the elderly woman hisses. “I think the least you can do is offer Miss Sloan a simple word of thanks for her efforts as your benefactor.”

Tommy is incredulous! She fiercely brushes the lather from her face. “ME? Say ‘Thanks’ to that manipulative Marcia Sloan? I’d sooner jump off Lincoln Heights Bridge!”

Almost on cue, Frankie slaps his hand onto Tommy’s head and thrusts it in the water, holding her under for a few seconds as the tomboy struggles. When he finally allows her to re-surface, she gulps for air.

“C’mon, sudsy slut!” Frankie growls. “Thank Marcia for being so nice to you!”

“Why don’t you bite my ass, you flunky monkey!” snaps Tommy. Edwina looks as though she might faint.

“Hey! Not a bad idea!” Frankie says with a perverted grin. “Maybe later! But… first things first.” He submerges her again, and brings her up again. “I got all day to play Dunk the Dyke, but Marcia and your aunt don’t. So SAY IT!”

Rdiculed and helpless,Tommy clenches her fists and her teeth and squints her eyes. “Oooohhhh… thank you,” she half mumbles/half growls.

“I don’t think Marcia heard you,” sneers Pimples. “Say it louder, or down you go!”

“THANK YOU, MARCIA,” Tommy screams venomously. And down she goes again!

Aunt Edwina is near-livid. “Tomasina Boyd! One more outburst like that and your father will hear of it. Now you thank Miss Sloan in a proper, ladylike tone!”

“That’s all right, Mrs. Strictland,” Marcia interrupts. “Tomasina is a most challenging case, and I think ‘baby-steps’ are in order here. We must suppress our desire for Tomasina’s rapid rehabilitation with the mercy of Job-like patience.”

“Oh, my dear Marcia,” Edwina practically sniffles. “You are like a lighthouse to a ship on a stormy sea!”

Indeed. Seconds later, soggy Tommy’s up again. Almost cartoon-style, her head is now completely covered with soap suds, including her hair, which sticks out in all directions ridiculously. A beaming Frankie holds up this dehumanized, featureless foam-face by Tommy’s soaped-up hair strands, displaying it proudly for all the gleefully chortling youngsters to enjoy.

Despite all the angst and the ongoing tribulation of supervising a problem child, Edwina manages to crack a smile at this overtly funny sight, trying her best to relax a bit...

About an hour later, in the house’s main living room:

The Great Tomboy Makeover has finally come to an end. Once-sporty Tomasina Boyd now finds herself decked out in an absurd, custom-made child’s dress circa 1955, complete with puffy short sleeves and a dainty fringed collar. Her wild and wavy hair is tied-off with ribbons and bright pink bows; even the girl’s peach-fuzzy forearms have been thoroughly shaved. In a word… yikes!

Not surprisingly, Aunt Edwina is delighted with this mega- transformation. The sight of her niece wearing something other than sports bras and sneakers is like a breath of fresh air. She correctly credits makeover artists Marcia and Chad with pulling off a minor miracle, and even the craven Frankie and Pimples manage to come off like helpful assistants.

A dazed Tommy, meanwhile, doesn’t seem to know what hit her and where. Dressed like a girl at last, she looks twice as silly standing defiantly in her familiar, fists-on-hips power-pose. “Tomasina! Get that frown off your face!” scolds Edwina. “And for Heaven's sake, stand like a lady!”

Marcia, exuding maturity and patience, once again comes across as the voice of reason. “Of course, it’ll take more than a change of clothing to tame this tomboy,” she reminds Mrs. Strictland. “She’ll need to learn feminine behavior from scratch.” Tommy stops fiddling with her tight collar and squints at Marcia. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Marcia and Chad exchange conspirator's grins.

Setting: the Proper Little Miss Finishing School, a super-strict, ultra-conservative local institution for pre-teens. Outside stands the sculpted figure of an iconic ladylike youngster, curtsying for our approval. Inside, a little girl sits on the floor, legs spread across, mindlessly rocking a doll. Then the girl turns her head… and we realize it’s a thoroughly mortified Tommy Boyd, catching up on those long-neglected female basics!

Behind Tommy, a bunch of snooty eight year-old “classmates” giggle at the new, ridiculously overgrown arrival. Lost in a daydream, Tomasina remembers a heartfelt conversation with her beloved dad, Colonel Boyd, just before Edwina became her legal guardian. Guilty about selfishly raising Tommy as the son he always wanted, Boyd hopes Edwina’s sternly classical view of femininity will correct this imbalance, finally making a lady out of his boisterous tomboy daughter. As a matter of fact, he’s really counting on it. Although she despises dresses, dolls, and anything traditionally “girly,” Tommy promises the Major that she’ll swallow her pride and dutifully obey Edwina’s wishes, even if it kills her. And it very well might!

“Tomasina!” a young voice scolds, snapping the teen out of her reverie. “Wake up this instant, or I’ll report you to Miss Merribrook!” Standing above Tommy with severely folded arms is Gwendolyn, a 10 year-old Proper Little Miss “senior” who’s obviously been asked to keep an eye on the new, mischief-prone inmate. Never a woman to take lip from anyone, Tommy instinctively clenches her fist and stands up to Gwendolyn, towering over the much-younger girl. Then Tommy swiftly relents, realizing that she’s backed herself into a corner.

Surrendering to fight another day, she slumps to the floor and resumes her mind-rotting, doll-rocking exercises. “This ain’t gonna be easy,” the tomboy sighs philosophically. “Isn’t,” corrects no-nonsense Gwendolyn. Tommy just rolls her eyes…

Meanwhile, bad news travels fast in Lincoln Heights. “Tommy Boyd’s in a dress… over at the finishing school!” a distressed ten year-old tells his freckle-faced pal. But before the two boys can even react to this emergency, neighborhood punks Frankie and Pimples surround them. “That’s right, ya little crumbs,” Frankie snarls, grabbing the fatter of the two by his shirtfront. “We brought her in ourselves. From now on, Boyd plays with dolls instead of throwing lucky punches. Now give!” The kids empty their pockets, scared to death.

At the same time, a group of basketball-playing youngsters are getting creamed by bigger, older and nastier adversaries. Without nimble Tommy Boyd on the kids’ team, they haven’t got a chance!

“Pssss – hey Tommy!” whispers a more nervous-than-usual Harold. Clinging precariously to a tree outside a Proper Little Miss window, he tries frantically to get her attention, and finally succeeds. He manages to lean on the sill as Tommy scampers over.

“How long you in for?” Harold asks with a Bogart accent, prompting an annoyed Tommy to tweak his nose. Then he updates her on those disconcerting outside world developments. Profoundly pissed by what’s happening to her friends, Tommy rubs a very unladylike fist into her palm. Harold's seen this look of fierce resolve many times before. Watch out, boy braggarts and bullies of Lincoln Heights… you can stuff jockette Tommy Boyd into a frilly dress, but you won't be able to contain THIS force of feminist nature for very long!

Setting: Marcia Sloan's posh estate, around ten in the evening. There's a party going on, and judging from the music and laughter, a fairly successful one.

"Thanks," says Randy Starr pleasantly, accepting a drink from a passing butler. He's dressed to the nines for this little outing, and before long an equally dapper Chad Parker saunters over, Marcia on his arm.

"Glad you could stop by, Starr," grins Chad, even as the newcomer glances about at the impressive surroundings. "This is your hostess and my girlfriend, Miss Marcia Sloan." A charmed Randy takes Marcia's offered hand. "I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Starr. And please, let me apologize in advance. I realize Lincoln Heights can be a tad trying and provincial without the proper connections. Still, I'm sure Chad can direct you to the country clubs in the neighborhood worth joining."

"I'm sure I'll fit right in", Randy responds with an agreeable smile, finally downing his drink.

A short while later, laughable images of Tommy Boyd in her "little girl" outfit, curtsying and smiling against her will, are flashed on Marcia's cell phone. A few of the local jock guests, all of them formally dressed, crowd around to mock the overgrown misfit, and even Randy walks over. "Say, isn't that the little girl who thinks she's a boy?" he asks innocently.

Marcia grins from ear-to-ear. "She won't be thinking that way for long. As you can see, we're rehabilitating her."

"Yeah," Chad chimes in. "The nitwit's over at a finishing school for little ladies. They won't let her out until she grows out of her tomboy stage. And that might take years."

A chorus of for--d "awwww"s from the gathered jocks greets that last statement, followed by some hearty laughter. Clearly, the local male athletes of Lincoln Heights would prefer keeping upstart Tommy Boyd exactly where she is.

"Actually, she's not a prisoner there, at least not all the time," Marcia explains. "Tomasina still attends high school and we're even allowing her to keep her decidedly-unfeminine part time job. That's why those sessions at Proper Little Miss must be especially aggressive."

Might work. Still, Randy wonders if a girl of TB's indefatigable nature and soaring spirit can ever be tamed...

And sure enough, watching Randy from an outside window is none other than Tommy herself… upside-down, and suspended from the roof! Obviously the teen scalawag found some way to escape her pre-school prison while everyone at Proper Little Miss was asleep. Yards of hair cascading downward, childlike grin across her gorgeous face, Tommy sees her pseudo-beau Randy and everything else in the party room from a skewed, topsy-turvy perspective...the way she sees life in general, many locals might say. But one thing's for sure...this sports-addicted, bully-bashing buckaroo isn't giving up her catcher's mitt and brass knuckles without a fight!

"You can bet your precious male pride on that one," Tommy thinks to herself, a roomful of arrogant macho men before her. And that includes the smuggest and most deceptively friendly jock of all, Mr. Randy Starr. "I'll show you, Mister Perfect," she makes herself a giddy promise. "One of these days… WHAM!”

TO BE CONTINUED...