The Beauty & The Beast

By Angharad.

(A story based on the characters created by Maddy Bell).

This story was written for the 2009 Gabycon.

“Drew, up ya get, boy,” called Dave Bond from the kitchen as he made the breakfast tea.

“Uh,” groaned Drew remembering they had an early start for the bike race in Newport. “Bloody British Cycling; bloody Newport; bloody velodrome,” he cussed to himself as he hauled himself out of bed. He stared at the clock, it was six in the morning—geez, no wonder he was still tired. Anyway, he got himself washed and dressed and down some fifteen minutes later.

Plonking himself down in chair at the kitchen table, he yawned at his father who was about to say something. Instead, Dave place a mug of tea in front of him which he picked up and sipped. After a few sips of the magic fluid, life seemed a little better, however, he yawned again just in case.

“I hope Maddy will be ready.”

“She will, I texted her, she's up.”

“Are you wearing makeup?”

“No, least I don't think so, why?”

“Blonds don't usually have dark eyelashes, you have.”

“Oh sh—ugar, Maddy dyed my eyelashes yesterday, see if the stuff worked.”

“Why didn't she do her own?”

“She couldn't see and do it at the same time, could she?” reasoned Drew.

“She could have done one eye at a time.”

“Yeah, but if it went wrong, she'd have one dark eye and one blonde eye, wouldn't she?”

“So, you got to be patsy again?”

“Not really,” said Drew but Dave's expression caused him to rethink, “Yeah, I guess.”

“Have you looked in the mirror?”

“Not since I washed my face.”

“I suggest you look again,” said Dave shaking his head before taking the toast—which had popped up from the machine—to butter.

Drew wearily dragged himself from his chair and walked out to the mirror in the hallway. “Oh shit!” he exclaimed. His eyelashes were very dark, making his eyes look even bigger than usual, but also very girlish. As well, Maddy had managed to colour the edges of his eyelids, giving the effect of eyeliner. “I am so dead.”

If it didn't wash off before Monday when he went back to school, he was in mega-trouble. How come he always got lumbered? Why couldn't Maddy have done it to herself? Why always him?

He glanced down at the bulges in his tee shirt, with his hair longer than it should be, and his burgeoning hips and chest, he was becoming increasingly feminine, although he was largely in denial, and his friends all ignored the elephant in the room—it was Drew, the boy with booblets—which he kept hidden most of the time. The sports bra helped, but he needed a new one, the old one was getting a bit tight. He needed Mad to measure him up for a new one, especially if they went shopping somewhere different—like Newport, the race would be over by early afternoon.

Why had he let BC talk him into racing for them? Okay, he occasionally did some velodrome work, but it was a pain going to Manchester. He did too well last time, his times were just too good to ignore and he was booked in for the junior kilo individual pursuit against his arch rival, the Welsh champion, Dafydd Rees. Rees had beaten him twice at previous meetings, but now Drew was getting the hang of it and not blowing himself up in the first half of the race. To sprint for a whole kilometre is too much, and requires pacing yourself while trying to psych your opponent. Rees had done that twice, so Drew felt a little intimidated. Rees was also a year older and practically lived at the ‘drome. He was also good, but get him on a hill, on a cross country course or better still on the road, and the time trial king of Cuckney, would beat him by a mile. Sadly, this wasn't a time trial nor a road race, so Drew was nervous.

“Are you going to stand there all morning?” called Dave.

“Uh, no.” Drew crept back into the kitchen and sat down again. He helped himself to toast and cereal.

“You see what I mean?” said his dad, obviously referring to the eye makeup.

“Yeah, I'll wear dark glasses.”

“Sure, walk around like a rock star, and be seen like a plonker. That'll do wonders for your image.” Dave shook his head. “At least we don't have to worry about taking the bike with us for a change.”

“No, we'll use one of theirs, according to John.”

“Does he still call you, Gaby?”

“Sometimes.”

“What are we going to do with you kiddo?”

“I dunno, Dad.”

“At this moment you look more like a girl than a boy.” Dave paused for a minute, “Who are they expecting?”

“Me.”

“Which version, of ‘me'?”

“I dunno, I never checked, did I?”

“Well go and look, you should probably take the letter with you anyway.”

“There wasn't a letter, they phoned, remember?”

“So they did. Never mind—come on, get sorted and we'll collect Miss Peters.”

“You're not gonna have a go at her are you?”

“What for?”

“You know,” Drew pointed at his eyes.

Dave gave him a wry smile and nodded. “Are those girls' jeans?”

Drew blushed, “Yeah, boys' ones are too loose in the waist, they keep falling down. Why? Do you want me to change them?”

“From the look of the rest of you, it might be worth taking some Gaby stuff with you.” Dave was tempted to add, Because I just know you'll end up in Gaby mode anyway.

“Okay,” Drew gave his father a curious look, then dashed off to grab some clothes. Thinking about his eyes and their girly look, he pulled off his tee shirt and the sports bra, changing into an ordinary bra in white satin material, which matched his panties anyway. Then he pulled on a scoop necked tee which showed his increasing cleavage, and he donned the boys' heavy cotton shirt, which he wore as a jacket. He quickly dabbed his lips with lip-gloss and a quick squirt of scent and he was ready; well nearly.

He threw a few more Gaby things into his sports bag and grabbed his little backpack handbag. His trainers were unisex, actually girls' ones, but he had worn them as Drew and nobody said anything, so he assumed they were okay—the assumption being—that other boys wore trainers with powder blue and pink flashes.

On his left wrist he besported his silver and pink Swatch, and his right, a silver bangle which Maddy had given him for Christmas. His silver hoops replaced his normal ear studs, Dave noticed as Drew returned to the kitchen and his waiting father. Once again, he was going to say something but desisted, it would only upset the kid and perhaps, he Dave, had asked for this. He wasn't quite sure how, but knowing how Drew's mind seemed to work—different to most boys, and certainly Dave's—he let well alone. It was going to be a Gaby day. Oh well, he was sure they'd survive it—although uncertain about what BC would think about it. Was transgenderism covered in their rules? He might well find out sometime soon.

Maddy jumped into the back seat of the car and surprised said, “Oh, Gaby's going—I thought it was Drew.”

“A little problem with eyelash dye apparently,” said Dave.

“Oh, um, sorry about that.” Maddy was blushing a deep scarlet except they couldn't see it in the darkened car. No more was said, Dave was surprised at how calm he was considering how annoyed he could have been, but it seemed he was going to be stuck with a child who wasn't sure of his identity and therefore would have to wait for an outcome, assuming there was one.

On the few occasions when he'd really thought about it, he decided that while it is difficult for the parents, it must be hell for the child. Who'd have thought it a few years ago: then Drew seemed like any other boy, if small for his age. Now he had the body of a…a…young teenage girl. Well more like one than a boy, from what Dave recalled of his own teen years—though they seemed a very long time ago.

Being around the cycling scene for several years, he'd watched other kids grow up into young men and women. Occasionally, there was the odd lad who had ‘boy boobs' or gynaecomastia, but they didn't have the small waist or broad hips that Drew was getting. Surely it had to be more than just hormones, didn't it—Drew's lack of testosterone, apparently, and perhaps insensitivity to what he did have. Geez, what a pickle, yet the kid was loveable if a bit silly at times, and as straight as a die. Coupled with generous and compassionate, he maybe was a bit different from the other boys—until he got on a bike. Then he certainly followed his mother in ability and ruthlessness, as well as body shape.

No there was no one else like Drew, but that could mitigate either way. Despite his obvious abilities, if he became an embarrassment, then BC might decide to overlook him or her, depending upon which was correct ultimately. Why did these things happen on Dave's shift—that was what he wanted to know.

The route to the motorway was so familiar that Dave followed it while continuing the internal dialogue about his younger child. He hadn't noticed Maddy plaiting Drew's hair, so he looked even more girlish, the plait coming down well below what would be his collar line nearly onto his shoulders.

The kids were chatting away as Maddy recovered from her initial embarrassment, seeing as Dave wasn't going to make an issue of it. Neither of the kids had been to Newport. It was as far as they were concerned an industrial town somewhere between Cardiff and Bristol.

In his research on the internet, Drew discovered they not only had a velodrome, but also a transporter bridge—a thing which was like a giant gantry over the River Usk, and a platform floated above the river, pulled by a device from the overhead system but controlled by someone on the bridge of the bridge. It could carry dozens of cars and took a couple of minutes to cross the river. It was situated near the industrial area of the town—not too far away from the velodrome, so Dave would probably want to see it.

There was also a castle and a few miles away, the village of Caerleon, which was originally called Isca Silurum or Isca Augusta, because it was one of only three permanent forts in Britain maintained by the Romans, and the headquarters of the legendary Legio II Augusta, which had conquered most of southern Britain.

So there was loads of history for Dave to see if he wanted, Drew, or perhaps more correctly, Gaby, was still distracted by Maddy playing with her hair to notice that Dave had lost his own distractions and was now looking at the ‘girls' as if ready to engage them in conversation.

“Did you print off a map to the velodrome, Dre…I mean Gaby?”

“Yep,” she waved a sheaf of papers.

“Good, we don't need all of that do we?” asked her father.

“I ran off some stuff on history around Newport, lots has happened there, Chartists—did they do maps?”

“No, they were a political movement in the eighteenth and nineteenth century, they wanted universal suffrage, I think, or that might only have been for men, so you two wouldn't have had the vote.”

“I would when I was eighteen, Daddy.”

“Not from where I'm sitting, kiddo.” Dave smirked back at his younger daughter, and she pouted back. Maddy smirked.

“There's a castle and then there's Caerleon, a Roman camp and baths and an amphitheatre, oh an' a transported bridge.”

“I know about the Roman stuff, kiddo, I helped with the excavation when I was a student. We had some good stuff too, I think they've got a museum now over the baths or what's left of them.”

“They have—looks like I wasted my time,” Gaby looked downcast clutching the sheets of paper with maps and text on them.

“Not at all, knowledge is never wasted, even things you think are irrelevant can be useful at some point in your life. I'm grateful too, that you had the consideration to think of my interests as well as your own, so well done, bo…girl. Where would you like to go?”

“I need a new bra, Daddy.”

“I see,” Dave gulped, it wasn't quite the answer he was expecting, “so you want to go shopping?”

“Do you mind?”

“I'm sure Maddy doesn't.”

“Absolutely,” squeaked from the back seat.

“No, it's okay. Maybe we could call in at Caerleon or Caerwent on the way back. I did some excavations there too, last I heard they thought they'd found the basilica.”

“I thought that was a giant snake thing, Harry Potter killed one, turns you to stone.”

“I think you might mean basilisk, a mythological monster—a basilica was like a town hall come civic centre of a Roman town.”

“Well, not a lot of difference then,” quipped Maddy.

“Exactly,” sniggered Gaby, “maybe we'll see Harry Potter at your basiliska.”

“Sounds like a Polish women's undergarment,” said Dave chuckling at his own joke, which sailed several feet over the heads of the teens, who had puzzled looks on their faces.

The rest of the drive was just boring. Once across to the M5 they stopped for brunch, Gaby popped a coin in a slot machine and won twenty pounds, which pretty well paid for them all to have an all day breakfast. After that, the two girls, feeling replete, nodded off to sleep and Dave turned the radio on quietly.

He went down the M50 and the link road which took them down parts of the Wye and Usk valleys and led them directly to Newport. It was a dreary day, although the forecast was for it brighten up. One good thing, it seemed unseasonably mild.

“Maps please, Gaby,” said Dave loudly.

“What? Um oh, yeah. Where are we?”

“Outside the velodrome.”

“Oh, yeah, so we are. What do you want maps for, then?”

Dave shook his head. “You may be pretty, kiddo, but at times you can be rather thick.”

“Dumb blonde,” came the remark from behind.

“Hark who's talking, the original DB.”

“Bleh! You're only jealous.”

“Yeah right, as if.”

“Girls, would you prefer we found a boxing ring?” asked Dave, which killed the altercation.

“Come on, let's get you registered and find out if you can still race. What race is it?”

“Individual pursuit.”

“Okay. Come on, leave your stuff for now, let's find out what time you're racing.”

Dave entered the building and went to the enquiry desk at reception. “The name's Bond, Drew is racing in the individual pursuit.”

The woman behind the desk looked at Gaby and at Maddy, then back at Dave. “But she's a girl.”

“Yes, we noticed.”

The woman blushed, “Is there a mistake?”

“Is it specifically a boys' race?”

“No, I don't think so; ‘ang on, let me get someone.” She dashed off returning a few minutes later with a middle aged man.

“Your daughter is going to race in the individual pursuit race, against boys?”

“Yes.”

“Look, I'm not tryin' to be funny, but she doesn't look as if she'll get very far an' I'd like, ‘ate for ‘er to go away disappointed, like.”

“It won't be the first time and she was referred by BC.”

“Well, there's nothin' in the rules which says she can't ride, and we've got ‘er down, her name's Drew, is it?”

“Yes,”

“That's where the confusion is then, it's one of those ambiguous names innit, could be a boy or a girl. I suppose BC thought she was a boy. Okay, if she can live with the risk of disappointment, she's welcome to race.”

“You were supposed to be providing a bike, is that correct?”

“Indeed, it is, the racin' starts in two ‘ours, so if she'd like to bring her stuff in, we'll sort ‘er out a bike.”

Dave handed Gaby the keys and she went and got her sports bag. They followed the official through to the back rooms of the velodrome, Gaby and Maddy were sent off to the female changing area.

Drew had originally packed his Notts Velo skins, then changed them for his BC skins—the red, white and blue of the Union flag, transposed to racing skin, which had been the official ‘uniform' of anyone cycling for Britain or representing BC. There was only one set in the bag, so Gaby had to wear them, but remembered the trackie top and bottom, so they could be covered. Unfortunately, people might ask questions if they see someone racing in Team GB kit, but they had given it to Drew, so it seemed a shame to waste it. They'd also provided a tracksuit, but Drew had already packed his black one, which was usually only used to stay warm after a race or while waiting for one, and spent more time either in the back of the car or being held by Dave while its normal occupant cavorted about on a bike.

“I didn't know you had a GB kit?” said Maddy.

“Yeah, I got them at Manchester, when they asked me to ride in some races up there. I'm sort of on the Junior team.”

“Or Drew is,” said Mad.

“Well, you heard that bloke at the office, Drew can be a girls' name too, just that nobody noticed before.”

“They will this time, kiddo,” said Maddy, “especially with that bra.”

“Oh sod it, I left my sports bra behind. I need a new one anyway.”

“We'll get one later, what size is that one?”

“32B.”

“Cor, you're a growin' girl, Gabs.”

“Tell me about it.”

Gaby carried her track shoes through to the velodrome, where one of the technicians got her to try several bikes for size.

“How's that?”

“Feels okay, thank you.”

“You're welcome, so we've got a girl riding in the kilo pursuit then, ‘ave we?”

“Fraid so.”

“Have you ridden it before, luvvie?”

“A couple of times.”

“So you know what you're doin' then?”

“Enough, I hope, but I could always use some advice from an expert,” said Gaby, buttering up the older man.

“If you come against Dafydd, he starts off strong, fades in the middle and then finishes strong. If you can spot his rest in the middle, he can be beat.”

“Well, if I do draw against him, thanks for the advice.”

“You're welcome, luvvie, right let's see you give this a whirl around the track.” One or two others were practicing and checking their bikes, so Drew edged out carefully, and did a couple of very gentle laps, then went up and around the banked tracking, and he thoroughly enjoyed swooping down and along the sprinter's line at the base. That was where he'd be riding in this race, along the sprinter's line, trying to maximise effort and minimise anything else, like drag and resistance.

The techie called him in, and he reverted to Gaby mode. “I see you've used a velodrome before.”

“Yes, at Manchester.”

“Well, the racing starts in an hour, better go'n see who've you've drawn. The two best times go through to the semi, then the winners of those ride in the final.”

“So I could have, like, three races?”

“Yes, luvvie, but only if you're good enough.”

“She is,” quipped Maddy.

“Yes, but Dafydd is unbeaten this year, and remember this is for the Welsh Championship.”

Drew looked at Maddy and goldfished. They walked away to find Dave. “Well, I didn't know it was a bloody championship race did I?”

“What exactly did they say on the phone?” asked Dave.

“I can't remember, just there was a race in Wales, in Newport and they'd like me to try it for them. Rees would be riding, but it would be good experience for me.”

“Well seeing as he's beaten you before, I suppose you've nothing to lose, give it a go. Which skins have you got on under the trackie?”

“Um, my BC ones, why?”

“Geez, don't you ever learn? That is going to attract a lot more attention than your Notts Velo one. Now there'll be an element of bashing the English, to it.”

“Wouldn't there have been anyway?”

“I suppose so, but you're kind of rubbing it in a bit. Oh well, see what you can do.”

“Oh there's three races if I get to the final.”

“That isn't very likely is it?”

“Thanks, Daddy, you give me loads of confidence.”

“I didn't mean it like that—but let's face it, Rees is likely to win it again.”

“Maybe Gabs will finally do it, this time,” suggested Maddy.

“Come on, Mad, that kid's in a league of his own. Drew would destroy him on the road, but this is his kingdom.”

The crowd started to swell and the racing got under way. There were a few sprints and other races then the first heat of the pursuits. Drew missed the first heat as he was warming up on a stationary bike, still in the track suit. The technician who'd got him the bike came over to advise him to get ready.

Drew walked over to where Dave was holding the bike. “And the next heat is John Jones against a plucky young lady all the way from, Nottingham, young Drew Bond. Drew is usually a time trialist and roadie and her mother is Jenny Bond, the Elite Womens' Road Race world champion, so we have a noble pedigree here tonight. John as you know gave Dafydd a run for his money last year, so you know all about him. This race, then, is goin' to be Beauty against the Beast.” The tannoy continued it's build up to the heat.

Drew stripped off to the Team GB strip and a ripple of excitement went through the crowd. “Geez-us, it's bloody Vickie Pendleton, junior,” said one spectator to another.

“Yes, but a little thing like ‘er up against Jones the Beast, no brainer, innit?”

Drew, drew the far side of the track to start. Dave agreed the usual indication, the further away Drew got either in the lead or behind, Dave would stand near the line accordingly.

“Good luck, kiddo, do your best and make your mother proud,” he said kissed her on the top of her helmet and patted her behind as they stationed themselves opposite each other.

In pursuit racing the idea is to chase your opponent and try to beat them across your finishing line. For the kilo, it's usually four laps depending upon the size of the track.

The gun went and Drew dug in and powered the pedals, against the relatively large gear. It's a fixed wheel and the bikes have no brakes, so it's leg aching stuff.

In a quarter of a lap, Drew was three seconds behind, by half a lap it was six. Then he got into his rhythm. Jones was expecting a rematch in the final against Rees. This was almost a training session against the little girlie from up north. He took his foot off the gas; unfortunately for him, Drew didn't reciprocate and by the end of lap three, was five seconds up.

Shocked, Jones tried to retaliate, but the little girly from up north had the bit between her teeth and had wound up for a big finish. The buzzer went as Drew crossed the line eight seconds up on the larger Welsh boy—who couldn't believe what had just happened.

“See, I told you it was bloody Pendleton.”

In such racing, once you've won something, everyone knows what's going on. Suddenly, the little underdog from Nottingham, had shown she had teeth and could bite. Everyone had expected to see a Rees – Jones rematch in the final. Now they weren't. The girl had no chance against Rees, but her next race in an hour would be interesting.

It was now eleven o'clock and Gaby snoozed for quarter of an hour, then after an energy bar and drink, went back on the stationary bike to warm up again. Rees was through destroying his opponent in his fastest time so far this year. Drew ignored what was going on and kept pedalling and listening to Girls Aloud, on his MP3.

This time, Drew had the starting point from the front of the track, near the officials' desk and VIP seating. He had no time for that. This was war. A couple of Union flags waved and as he was being set up by Dave, the crowd roared at mention of his name. Was there another upset on the cards? They all hoped so—it was more fun.

The starter's gun went and once again Drew pulled himself out of the saddle and ploughed the big gear up to racing speed. Once more he took half a lap to get there and once more he was lagging. Dave's position showed him how much.

Darren Peabody, wasn't Welsh, he was from London, but his family had moved down to Cardiff two years before. This was his first big event and half way through the race, his nerves got the better of him. The Bond road-eater steamed relentlessly after him. At the start of lap four, he was nearly fifteen seconds down. He gave it all he could, but only succeeded in pulling a muscle and limped back to the finish over a minute behind. Drew's time was five seconds faster than race one. The crowd was getting behind him and he was loving it.

“Well done, kiddo,” Dave caught the ‘Flying Spot' as he came into the entry area of the warm up and preparation area. As he dismounted, Rees came past and nodded. Rees was sure he'd raced against a boy called Bond, he'd certainly never met a girl rider, let alone in a final, which Drew had now qualified to ride.

“My hero..ine,” said Maddy dancing about as Drew nearly fell off the bike.

“That was a good ride, kiddo, you frightened the proverbial out of your opponent. Even Rees is having to take you seriously now.”

“He would have anyway, he doesn't like to lose.”

“Aren't you going to watch him?”

“Nah, I'm gonna have a little nap and a drink.” Drew took himself off to the competitors' area and sitting down had a drink and then threw a towel over his head. Somehow he managed to sleep, until Maddy disturbed him some fifteen minutes later.

He drank some more, this time an energy drink and he ate another bar. Then it was off to the stationary bike and a long slow warm up. Three kilometres was nothing for our heroine, who regularly rode twenty times that on a road bike, but this is almost a sprint race, and that eats muscle power and saps strength.

Drew had the advantage of racing first, which meant that Rees had had maybe fifteen minutes less rest, not that it worried him, he'd stayed on the stationary bike from the semi final until he was ready to race again.

He eyed his opponent across the competitors' section, she was spinning gently. She's quite a looker and nice body too. Wouldn't mind a bit of that given the chance, he thought to himself.

Drew on the other hand was singing along to a track by Avril Lavergne, and oblivious to his opponents lascivious thoughts. He did wish that he'd thought to paint his nails, but he forgot to pack any varnish.

Finally the moment of truth arrived, the burly Welsh defending champion was taking his place at the front of the track. They'd shaken hands before and he'd winked and said, “Alright, darlin'.” Drew had smiled back while seething inside.

“Just keep going, he can be beaten,” said Dave as he pushed Drew up to his start line on the far side of the track. Drew said nothing, focused on one thing alone—this race.

The legs felt good, not too tired and well warmed. The gun went, and Drew started heaving on the big cog once again. Rees went off like a bat out of hell. Drew a little more sedately, concentrating on building up to rhythm, get the cadence right, the rest will happen if you're lucky—get it wrong and nothing will happen.

At the end of lap one, Rees was fifteen seconds up. Lap two was slower, though he was still twenty seconds up. Three, he was down to seven seconds, and Drew who'd paced himself was roaring. At lap four the commentator sounded as if he was heading for a stroke. The little girl from Notts was about to spring a huge surprise on the crowd, the cycling world and most of all Dafydd Rees.

500 metres out Rees blew up, he had no more to give and Drew continued his rhythm, getting ever faster as he wound up for the big finale. He screamed past the finish line, ten seconds up on Rees, who couldn't believe it.

The noise was deafening, every woman in the place was on her feet yelling for Drew, the slight girl from up north, who'd humbled a champion. Someone threw a Union flag out to Drew as he pedalled around the top of the banking, he held it aloft, like he'd seen people like Pendleton, Hoy and Wiggins do at the Worlds and Olympics. The crowd were going wild and there were flashes from cameras going all over the place. The little girl from Team GB, had shown her mettle.

The video was replayed on the large screen as Drew did a couple of laps of honour. Rees came alongside and congratulated his vanquisher. They rode along together holding hands for half a lap. He wasn't at all happy about being beaten, and he'd love a chance to get even, but she'd taught him a lesson and he'd think long and hard about how she beat him.

“I told you that breeding will out, Drew Bond is the new champion,” called the tannoy. Drew knew that he couldn't be a Welsh National Champion, as he wasn't Welsh, Rees would retain that sort of, however, Drew was now Welsh Champion to add to his growing list of palmares, the only downside, they'd all think he was girl now.

Dismounting, as Dave caught the bike, Drew nearly keeled over his legs were like jelly. People kept coming up to congratulate the young woman, although Dave positioned the bike to make it as difficult as he could.

“Well done, kiddo,” he said putting an arm around his son's narrow shoulders, they really did feel more like a girl's than any boy he'd met.

“Thanks, Daddy, I feel knackered.”

“I'm not surprised, that was some ride,” said Dave.

“Can you attend the podium, in fifteen minutes for the medal presentation. Oh and I hope you brought a nice dress with you, there's an official presentation at dinner this evening at the Celtic Manor.”

“I um…” Drew stuttered.

Dave looked at his watch, “It'll be over by three, you've got two hours to find something.”

“But I'll need shoes and a bag too, and what about Mad?”

“Good job, I brought the credit card then, isn't it? I suppose I'll have to hire a suit.”

“You could do with a new one anyway,” offered Drew, “that other one is yonks old.” Dave was flabbergasted, he got more like his sister everyday, and she was like her mother.

“Go and get your medal,” said Dave in retaliation.

The ceremony was brief, each was mentioned in turn, beginning with the third placed rider, then second and finally it was Drew's turn. He stepped up on the podium and received the medal from some dignitary who insisted on kissing him on both cheeks—facial variety—duh! He waved to the crowd shook hands with the second and third placed riders, Rees and Jones, who insisted on kissing the ‘girl' on the cheek. Drew blushed but not for the reasons they thought.

After the Welsh national anthem, which even Drew recognised, he waved again to the crowd then smartly popped to find Dave, who was deep in conversation with the man who'd been called by the receptionist when they first arrived. They shook hands then noticed Drew standing behind them.

“Well, well, you were a proper turn up for the books, weren't you? Well done, young lady, you've taught them all a lesson they won't forget in a ‘urry, indeed they won't. I ‘ope to see you later on at the dinner. Oh, they'll expect you to make a short speech when you receive the cup. See you later, tarrar.” He ambled off before Drew could say anything except to swallow hard. A speech? Oh poo!

“Well done, kiddo, let's ‘ave a look-see at the medal.” Dave took the medal which Drew offered him. Very nice, dunno what all this means, it's in Welsh.”

“Duh—we're in Wales, Daddy, or hadn't you noticed from the funny accents?”

Dave narrowed his eyes and Drew knew not to say anything else. “Let's see, then,” said Maddy pushing in, having been talking with Dafydd Rees. “Oh, by the way, he fancies you like mad.”

“He fancies me like you?” asked Drew totally confused.

“Another blonde moment? No you nit; he fancies you like crazy. If I was talking about me, I'd have said me. Besides, if he fancied me, I wouldn't have told you anyway, would I?”

“I s'pose not, why not?” Drew looked very confused. “Why wouldn't you have told me?”

“Use yer ‘ead for more than balancing an ‘elmet on.”

“Come on, girls; Gabs, go and change. Maddy, keep an eye on her, will you?”

“'Course, Uncle Dave.

Drew showered quickly and dressed in the jeans and top again. He really did need another bra. He checked his purse, he had maybe fifty quid with him, that should be enough to buy a bra and possibly the shoes as well; he couldn't let his dad buy everything. Having said that, he didn't really want to buy stuff he'd possibly never wear again. Maybe he could pass it on to Maddy at some point in the future.

They dashed into the town centre and parked quite easily. It was half past three, so lots of shoppers had finished spending money. “It's a black tie event, so I'll rent a suit at Moss Bros, thank goodness I wore black shoes today,” said Dave. “You're going to need really smart dresses, just try not to buy anything ridiculously priced, will you?”

“Okay, Uncle Dave, I'll keep her on the straight and narrow.”

“Right find what you want, and ask them to put it behind the counter for you, I'll meet you in an hour and pay for things, okay?”

They both agreed and dashed off to hit the shops. In British Home Stores (BHS) they found a nice bra for Gaby, which she decided to wear out of the shop, they bought a second as there was an offer on, ‘ buy a second one half price' they also bought some extra panties, as Maddy needed some too.

Then practically next door was M&S, so they rushed in and Gaby found the Per Una display and decided to try a dress, sadly it didn't quite fit her, she wasn't just big enough in the bust to pull it off, but Maddy was, so she bought it, and a pair of shoes in practically the same colour. The girl on the pay desk, took the items and promised to hold them for an hour.

A hundred yards up the road was a Laura Ashley, “C'mon, Gabs, they have some lovely stuff in here.”

“It's all old fart's stuff,” replied Gaby.

“C'mon, let's see anyway.” Maddy practically dragged her cousin into the shop and as they browsed, she spotted a dress with a blue poppy design on a black background, with pinks and creams as well as the green of the leaves.

“That is so beautiful, Gabs.”

“Yeah, geez, it's sixty quid, Dad'll like have a stroke.”

“Try it on, go on, you haven't got to buy it have you?”

“Have we got time?”

“Well, ‘urry up then,” urged Maddy,

Once the dress was on, Gaby knew it was The One . But the price was a bit much for a one off, though maybe Maddy would like it afterwards, yeah the blue really brought out the blue of her eyes, and the scooped neck showed a bit of cleavage, though it really needed a push up bra.

When Maddy saw it, she eulogised how lovely it was but agreed about the bra, so did the woman in the shop. Maddy rushed over to BHS again and bought a push up bra, Gaby put it on and retried the dress, it was perfect and the girl told her that if they bought it today, she could knock a tenner off the price, but only today. They put it behind the counter and dashed into M&S to try on shoes: Maddy had seen a pair of plain courts which matched one of the shades of blue in the dress. Gaby paid for them herself.

In small jewellers they saw some dangly earrings in the required colours, blue for Gaby and red for Maddy, some tights in M&S; all they needed now was Dave with his credit card.

He duly arrived carrying a large zip-up bag containing his rented suit, “I've got a purple tie and cummerbund, so watch your dresses don't clash with it.”

“I thought you were supposed to complement us not t'other way round,” said Gaby.

And this coming from someone who wasn't a real girl—leastways, not officially—however, Dave was having grave doubts about the gender status of his younger child. It was just that once upon a time, Drew, even in Gaby mode, would never have said us and meant girls. Confused and not a little frightened about ultimate outcomes, Dave succumbed to humour as an escape mechanism. “At my age, I can pull rank on you two whippersnappers–besides, I'm paying for your dresses so get the final say so. Where next?”

The retraced their steps into Marks & Spencers, and Dave accepted the red dress which Maddy had chosen, although his eyes watered somewhat at the fifty pound price tag.

On to Laura Ashley's, and when the girl made Gaby model the dress for her dad, Dave was blown away, Jenny and Jules were beauties, but this one was the pick of the bunch. He felt pride and sadness in equal quantities, what was going to happen to this beautiful creature, to whom nature had played such a lousy trick? He wished he knew, but he was seeing less and less boy almost by the week.

The girl in the shop was happy with the choice of shoes, and the colour match was excellent. Gaby was really pleased with that, and on one level was pleased to wear three inch heels, on another felt that as a boy– he –should be objecting.

Dave coughed up, and once he realised he was also saving ten pounds off the original price, he actually smiled. Jenny would probably shoot him, he should have insisted everyone knew Drew was a boy, at the same time he made sure he charged his camera for the evening do, he wanted pictures of Gaby getting the trophy and also he wanted one of Gaby and him together in all their respective finery.

“Where are we going to change?” asked Gaby, suddenly aware that they hadn't booked into a hotel.

“We have some rooms booked for us by BC for winning the cup,” said Dave.

“Where?”

“At the Celtic Manor, where the function is.”

“Oh good, all I need now is a little handbag, what about you Mad?”

“I saw a red on in a little shop just up the road, dunno about a blue one, it's a bit of an unusual shade.”

“I thought a silver one would do, and there's one there, look, in that charity shop.”

Unfortunately, the manager of the shop was just locking up. “Oh dear, is it too late to get that little silver bag?” Gaby asked.

“'Fraid so, we're open again on Monday, from ten.”

“I needed it tonight.”

“Well yew shoulda thought about it earlier then, shouldn't yew ,” she said in a shrill Welsh accent.”

“We didn't know we'd need it until a short while ago,” said Dave trying to disarm the prickly Welsh shrew. “My daughter has just won a national bike race at the velodrome and we have to go to a formal presentation at the Celtic Manor.”

“So why didn't yew come prepared?”

“She didn't think she had much chance against Dafydd Rees, but she beat him.”

“ Yew beat Dafydd Rees, the Welsh Champion?”

Gabs wondered if there was going to be a negative reaction and almost braced herself for the broadside.

“Yew're not messin' me ar'ew?”

“No, I beat him.”

“Dewi Sant,” she roared with laughter and hugged Gaby, frightening the teen almost to death. “That little mochyn , and he was little in them days, beat the manure out of my Arwyn. They was in school together, arrogant little bar-steward, if you'll pardon my French. We've ‘ated ‘im ever since.”

World War III in knickers paused for breath, and Dave began to realise why Offa built his ‘Dyke' to keep the warlike Welsh out of his back garden.

“Right, lovely girl, which bag d' yew want?” Gaby pointed to the small silver sequined one in the window. “Wait yer,” she said and unlocked the shop and two minutes later appeared with it. “That the one?”

“Oh yes,” said Gaby fishing her purse out of her bag.

“Nah, it's worth it to see that mochyn brwnt humbled, yew take it and ‘ave a lovely evenin'.”

“Wow, thanks, um...”

“Janice.”

“Thanks Janice, it's really kind of you,” said Dave.

The woman blushed and shrugged.

“Thanks very much. How would I say that in Welsh?” asked Gaby.

“Diolch yn fawr,” said Janice.

“

Diolch yn fawr,” said Gaby.

“ Yewer welcome.”

Dave and Gaby wandered towards the shop where Maddy had disappeared. She emerged just as they approached the door. “Just made it, and they knocked a quid off. Did that old crone let you buy that bag, it looked like she was locking up?”

“Nope, she wouldn't let me buy it.” Drew feigned disappointment.

“Old bag,” said Maddy.

“What, the lovely Janice?” said Dave, “Tell her, Gabs.”

“She gave me the bag, she can't stand Dafydd Rees.”

“You what?” gasped Maddy, “she gave it to you? Cor, you jammy sod.” Gaby just giggled and even Dave smirked.

Dave hurried them back to the car and they fought with the traffic all the way along the Chepstow Road, until they got out to The Coldra and the turning for The Celtic Manor sports and leisure complex. It's a huge place has it's own country club and golf course, with swimming pools and all the trimmings. Dave and the girls were suitable impressed.

After explaining who they were, they were led off to adjacent rooms, Gaby and Maddy in one and Dave in the other. He wasn't entirely sure about that arrangement, as Drew was technically still a boy but after a quick discussion the teens agreed that they wouldn't do anything ‘silly' together. Besides, Drew wondered if he could actually do anything anyway, as he didn't seem to get the morning bulges in his pants he heard other boys talking about. He assumed he was just a late developer, as Dave had claimed to be, but secretly he knew something wasn't right, he just didn't want it proved—because then he would be abnormal. For the moment he was just a normal boy—with tits!

He was grateful for the shower; he washed his hair and they even had a hair drier there, so Maddy was able to style it for him. He had learned a while back how to do his own makeup, and as it was going to be an evening do, he made it more elaborate than usual. However, he did worry about getting the stuff off his eyelids and lashes before Monday, or he would be in trouble. Though some days, he did wonder if it was worth the while of hiding what was happening to his body, it might also be more comfortable, especially in the boob department.

After dressing in his new frock, he helped Maddy zip hers up and she did the same for him. He borrowed some of her nail varnish and it pretty well matched his pink lip gloss. He'd brought his own scent, so at least they smelt differently.

They had barely finished when there was a knock at the door, and Dave presented himself, resplendent in black dinner suit with purple velvet cummerbund and matching bow tie. Gaby thought he looked very elegant, because it was Gaby who felt a certain moistness in her eyes at seeing her daddy so dressed up.

They locked their rooms and he escorted the two girls down to the function room where they were escorted to a table with some people already seated. Gaby recognised one of them as the winner of another event, a girl of about sixteen, who was with presumably, her parents and boyfriend.

They each introduced each other. “You're that girl who beat Dafydd, aren't you?” said the older girl.

“She is,” answered Maddy for her cousin, who seemed very tongue tied at that moment.

“Good, arrogant little toad, he is. ‘Bout time he was beat, and by a girl too. Good for you, um…, sorry I don't know your name even?”

“Gaby Bond,” answered Maddy. The boyfriend across the table wondered if Gaby had a hand up the back of her assistant or was it a ventriloquist's dummy. He was waiting for ‘Gottlageer'.

“Well Drew Bond, really, Gaby is her nick name.”

“Bond are you any relative to that woman cyclist?” asked the father of the girl.

“Jenny?” suggested Dave, and when the man nodded, “I suppose I must be, she's my wife and Gaby's mum.”

“Isn't she a champion, roadie?”

“Yeah, Elite Womens' Road Race Champion,” said Drew with pride.

The ice now broken, they two families got on quite well together. The food was excellent as was the wine, and Dave was rather pleased he didn't have to drive home until the next day.

Then there was the boring speeches, well Drew thought they were boring until they made reference to upsets in one or two of the events, and the pedigree of a certain young lady, who'd graced the championships and was further gracing the event by her presence at the dinner. Drew blushed, but blushed even more when the Chairman—whose speech seemed to last for hours—asked her to stand and so everyone could see her. She stood and turning almost as red as Maddy's dress, waved for a moment. Maddy thought it was hilarious.

Finally, the presentations were made. It was like the BBC sports personality thing, because as the various winners received their cups, a huge screen showed the moment of their triumph, which had been filmed.

Drew was dreading going up for his award. The girl on the same table, Rachael O'Brien, was the winner of the girls' sprint and Drew was really impressed with the speed she'd achieved, she was obviously a face for the future.

Then the dreaded moment arrived. “And the winner of the kilometre individual pursuit, the lovely, Drew Bond,” announced the Chairman.

“Go on, you deserved it,” urged Dave. Drew was trying to, but his heel was stuck in the carpet. Finally he managed to wrench it free and his shoe came off. More blushes. He bent down to put it back on and his bag fell on the floor. Maddy swooped down and picked it up for her cousin.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together and show your appreciation for the new Champion of Wales, individual kilometre pursuit, the lovely Drew Bond.” The applause as Drew walked the seeming miles from his seat to the top table, was deafening. She blushed and kept her head down.

“So your mam, is a world champion, is that right?” asked the Chairman.

“Yes sir, Jenny Bond.”

“I think we all know of her exploits, what we didn't appreciate was that it ran in the family, as well as the beauty you share with her.” This made Drew blush again and he was glad he had a short dress on, or he'd have been even hotter. The sweat was running down his back he was so nervous.

“So, did you think you could win this cup?” The said object was placed in front of them on the table.

Drew shrugged, “I gave it my best shot, it was all I could do.”

“Your best shot, was an absolute bull's eye. You beat two very good riders, who are both older and more experienced than you, especially in this event. In fact one of them, the runner up, was the defending champion and you rode him like he was the tyro and you were the champion.” The Chairman turned to watch the screen as film of the first and final races were shown. “Talk us through this final.”

“Um,” said Drew, gulping, “I um, knew he'd go off fast, he always does. My only chance was to pace myself, which I did. I'm not used to riding in such a big gear, I don't do much track work although British Cycling asked me to have a go. I did.”

“Did you hear that, ladies and gentlemen, ‘ British Cycling asked me to have a go, I did.' That is a future champion speaking. I hope BC ask you to have a go in a future Olympics and World Championships. Ladies and gentlemen please be upstanding for an outstanding young lady, a new Champion of Wales, Drew Bond.”

The entire room was on its feet and the applause was even louder than before with whistles as well as clapping and banging on tables. Drew as underdog had obviously tapped a vein, and they loved ‘her'.

Thankfully, as a junior event, it ended at eleven and much to Drew's delight and Maddy's disdain, there was no disco. The presentation had taken over an hour because of the films, but Drew had to accept it was probably the most exciting evening of his short life, and now he realised how his mother felt on the continent.

All it took for the evening to come alive with a new energy was for a small beauty to tame a large beast, a real fairy tale for the modern age—showing anyone with eyes to see it, that skill and determination can overcome huge odds and win, the underdog can too have her day.

The End.

Angharad ap Gwilym 17.05.09 © 2009

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