Babe in Boyland by Jody Gehrman Read Free Book Online

get answers?” I ask. “You think just being there, I’ll magically understand all there is to know about them? Won’t I have to get, you know, chummy?”
    “Ooh!” Chloe says, parking her car in a shady spot. “You’ve got to find out if Josh likes me! He’s so yum!”
    “I’m not doing this so I can fix you up with Mr. Clean,” I grumble.
    “Why are you doing it, then?” She yanks her keys from the ignition and touches up her lipstick in the rearview mirror.
    “To create a deeper understanding between the sexes,” I say. “To answer the questions girls have asked about guys since time began.”
    She twists around to look at me in the backseat. “Well, I’m a girl, and I have a question: Does Josh like me?”
    “Fine,” I say, opening the car door. “I’ll see what I can find out.”
    In Macy’s, Chloe gets distracted by the shoe department, but we remind her sternly we don’t have time for cute fall boots. We make our way to men’s clothing. Aside from passing through en route to the bathroom, I’ve never even visited this department; it’s totally foreign. As we’re looking at button-down shirts a paunchy, middle-aged man with thinning hair approaches and asks if he can help us find anything.
    “We’re shopping for her twin brother,” Darcy says, pointing at me. “She’s going to try some stuff on, just to make sure it all fits. Him, I mean. Fits him. Nat. Her brother.”
    “All right, excellent,” the man says. “Let me know if I can be of help.” His face clearly says, Damn kids.
    In the dressing room, we get the giggles at the way the jeans hang below my butt crack. When I find some that are baggy enough to be guy-like but not so loose that they’ll end up around my ankles, we pair them with a plain white button-down shirt. At their insistence, I walk up and down the hall outside the dressing room a couple times while they coach me on how to move.
    “You’ve got to slouch more,” Darcy says. “Your posture’s too femmie.”
    Chloe nods. “Think gangsta, you know? Lean down into it.”
    I try, but they’re still not satisfied. An old guy comes out of a dressing room carrying a bunch of sweaters and scowling at us, which sets us off giggling again. When we recover I resume my practice walk, but even I can see in the mirror that it’s not convincing. Something’s off, but I can’t put a finger on it. Chloe studies me, shaking her head, then suddenly her face lights up with inspiration.
    “I know what you need!”
    “What?” I recognize that gleam in her eye, so I’m instantly suspicious.
    “It’s all a matter of props. Darcy, go get us a pair of socks.”
    “Socks?” Her forehead scrunches up in confusion.
    “Hurry!”
    Darcy runs out and in a few minutes she comes back with a pair of black cotton socks. “Does it matter what size they are?”
    Chloe just laughs at that and hands the socks to me. “Here you go. Instant junk.”
    I raise an eyebrow. “You want me to stuff it down my pants?”
    “Yeah! Remember, you’ve got a package down there now.”
    I glance around quickly to make sure nobody’s around, then stuff the pair of socks into the appropriate spot—more or less, anyway. It occurs to me that I’m not completely confident about placement. I mean, obviously I’m familiar enough with male anatomy to know the basics, but I never really thought about how they arrange it under clothing—how it hangs, so to speak. Once more I check to make sure nobody’s come into the dressing room, then I adjust the socks, examining their barely visible outline in the mirror.
    “You can hardly see it,” I say. “You really think it’s necessary?”
    Chloe breathes out the long-suffering sigh of someone forced to interact with people of vastly inferior intelligence. “It’s not about the bulge; it’s about the way it feels . Go ahead, try the walk again.”
    I do, and before I’ve even taken three steps Darcy gasps. “God! That’s it! Chloe, you’re a