Gaby and the Tyrannosaurus

by Angharad

“If I find that bloody Drew Bond, I'm gonna bloody well kill ‘im.” The large, ill tempered boy, nicknamed Tyrannosaurus Becks , made his way out of the school. Quite what he had against young Bond nobody seemed to know—especially Bond, as he was away racing when the comment was made. However, it soon made its way via the grapevine at Warsop College, to the gang.

“What's he after Drew for?” asked Maddy, second cousin and on-off girlfriend of the aforementioned boy.

“Dunno, but I reckon Drew must have really pissed him off this time.” The opinion came from Rhod, who only actually knew as much as Maddy but who held an opinion on most things, especially of those in which he had little or no knowledge.

“You mean, he's done it before?” Maddy wasn't sure about this at all, “'Cos I don't remember Becks being after him before. In fact, Drew was after Becks if you remember.”

“Well, Mr Bond was, because he threw Drew's bike over a lamppost and they had to get the electric people out to get it back—but the frame was knackered anyway.”

“Drew was so cross with him, he took a swing at Becks and broke a bra strap.”

“He did what?”

“He hit him once and ran off, you remember?”

“Yeah, but I thought it was because he'd realised what he'd just done—like kicking sleeping lion and then legging it.”

“No, you know because of his little prob.” She ran her hands over her chest indicating the bulge of her breasts. “Well, he has to wear either a bandage or a sports bra—he broke the strap and was scared one of his boobs might show through his shirt.”

“Of course, that's why he wears a tee shirt under his school shirt.”

“Duh!” said Maddy slapping the heel of her hand against her forehead. At times Rhod could be extremely dim, like one of those low energy bulbs—it took him a while to get it. “Anyways, I've sent him a text, so he knows about it.”

“What did he say?”

“Oops!”

“Is that all he said?”

“Well yes.”

“Geez, he's being very calm for someone whose life is in danger.”

“Why is dinosaur boy after him anyway?”

“I dunno, why don't you ask him?” Rhod threw down the gauntlet; however, Maddy sidestepped it and offered it back to him.

“Why don't you, he's in your set for English, isn't he?”

“What? I can't be seen talking to him—without a biological warfare suit.”

“'Fraid of cooties are you?”

“Me, nah—I'm not afraid of him.”

“So let me get this right, Rhod, you're not afraid of Becks?”

“No. No 'course I'm not.”

“BOO,” shouted a voice behind Rhod and he jumped and squealed before turning round to see who'd been behind him. It was Becks. “Not afraid of me? You're shitting yourself, you big girl's blouse.”

“No I'm not, I had beans for breakfast, that's all,” Rhod hurled back.

“A likely tale, ya big sissy,” hurled the huge boy at the diminutive Rhod.

“Go on, ask him,” urged Maddy nudging the trembling heap her friend had become.

“Alright,” snapped Rhod, finally gaining control over his flatulent body. “Why are you after Drew Bond?”

“That midget Bond? I don't want 'im—I want 'is cousin to go to the end of term dance with me.”

“I'm his cousin,” asserted Maddy, “and there is no way I'm going to the dance with you, knucklehead.”

“Yeah, well I don't want you either—I want the pretty one, wossername? Gaby, yeah, tell Bond, if 'is cousin don't come to the dance with me, I'll grind 'is bones to make my bread.” Becks laughed and walked off saying, “Fi fie foe fum,” in a loud voice and laughing to himself.

“What we gonna do?” asked Rhod.

“I dunno, let's hope Drew will think of something, or the dinosaur will eat him.”

Drew returned that evening and, so a bit later Maddy and Rhod went to see him.

“He wants Gaby to go to the dance with him?” asked a horrified Bond junior.

“Yes, that's what he said.”

“No way, Jose.”

“So, you gonna let him marmalise you, then?”

“Not if I can help it.”

“So what yer gonna do then?”

“How do I know?”

“Maybe if Gaby came to the dance with Clive?” suggested Maddy.

“Oh come off it, Mad, that would be suicidal.”

“Yeah for Clive.”

“I can't sacrifice Clive, he's been, like, a mate forever.”

“So how come Gaby's decked him once?”

“He was drunk, so he'd have fallen over anyway, I just helped him a little.”

“C'moff it, they heard the slap outside the hall.”

Drew coloured up a little, “I don't remember it being that hard.”

After the others had gone, Drew began to appreciate his predicament. Essentially, he was toast. He remembered his previous encounter with the Tyrannosaurus and blushed when he recalled the broken bra strap and his boob falling out of his sports bra. If it came to anything physical, he'd have to take that into consideration in future.

He tossed and turned in bed that night, seeing himself as Gaby pursued by either Clive the caveman or the slavering dinosaur. He awoke covered in sweat, relieved to discover it was a dream. He was tempted to call Becks a psychopath, but realised the boy probably didn't have the intelligence to be one.

The next day, as he plodded to school with Mad and the gang, his manner was unusually morose.

“Wossermatter with her?” asked Ally in jest, “is she on?”

“No, Gaby just realised what being invited to the dance by dinosaur boy entailed.”

“Oh my god, Gabs, you'd have to lay his eggs,” gasped Ally, still being far too happy for Drew's miseries.

“Leave it out, Al—this is flippin' serious.”

“Go on, Gabs, you'll think of something—you always do.”

“I'm not Gaby, I'm Drew, remember—trousers, blazer—boy clothes.”

“Sports bra and camisole,” winked Maddy.

“Don't you start as well, Maddy.”

The bell rang and he went off to his form room to register and start another boring day of academia. He just hoped he would be good enough to turn pro one day and earn his living like that for a few years—better than all this constant studying.

He came out of his form room head down, he was late and ran straight into the one person he didn't want to meet. “Bond, you wuss, how nice to see you.”

“Put me down, you reptile.” Drew struggled as the larger boy with the smaller brain held him up against the wall by his throat. Drew was frightened as it was, if the boy felt just a little lower on his chest, his cover would be well and truly blown.

“I just wanna have you take a message to your cousin for me, 'kay?”

Drew was having difficulty breathing, “Get stuffed, pig breath.” The boy responded by squeezing Drew even harder—much longer and he'd have bruises all over. He kicked out and caught the larger boy in a very tender place. The reaction was he was dropped immediately and he ran off down the corridor pursued by a now very angry dinosaur.

It wasn't Drew's day—he ploughed straight into old Woods as he came out of his office, causing him to drop the engraved glass plate the school hockey team—girls—had won over the weekend. It shattered.

“Bond! What the hell do you think you're doing?” The angry headmaster demanded.

“Sorry, sir, I was late for my lesson.”

“You know there's no running in the corridors.”

“Yes, sir, I'm really sorry, sir.”

“You will be—go and get a brush and pan and sweep up this mess.”

Yes, sir.” Almost in tears he went off to the caretaker's office—a cupboard under some stairs—to get a pan and brush. Once he'd cleared up the mess, he was told to report to Mr Woods' office. He was practically sobbing when he knocked upon the door.

“Ah, Bond, get in here.”

Drew hastened into the office and sat where the headmaster told him to.

“I'm going to suspend you.”

Drew was horrified, but given the nature of his crime, he half expected Mr Woods to don his black cap before passing sentence—the suspension being from a rope.

“You will remove yourself from these premises in a short while and not come near them for one week. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes sir,” he sobbed, he really was upset. Mr Woods handed him a tissue to blow his nose. “I'm sorry, sir.”

“I should think so, too. Those girls worked really hard to win that competition and now the school will have to stump up for a replacement trophy.”

Drew almost felt as if he should offer to pay for it, but he held his tongue—he didn't have that much in his bank account since he bought that dress and shoes—bloody Maddy, she'll bankrupt him before she's finished.

“You might be banned, but I need the help of your alter ego.”

“Eh?” Drew looked up at the man sitting the other side of the large desk.

“I have a little job for her while your present manifestation disappears for a few days.”

“What, sir?” Not another crackpot idea like the school brochure photos?

“We have some very important visitors coming on Friday, and I want you to help show them around.”

“Why can't you ask one of the proper girls, sir?”

“Because I want you to do it, I take it you still have the school uniform?”

“Yes, sir. I'll need to speak with Dad.”

“I've already spoken to him. Oh by the way, if you do this for me, I'll suspend your little friend Becks for two weeks, so he won't be able to come to the dance and thus won't need you as his dance partner.”

Oh well, when Woody put it like that—Drew was definitely interested.

“How many days do you need Gaby?”

“Just Friday, but that will include the dance as well.”

Shit, shit, shit—how come he always ended up at any social event as Gaby? It just wasn't fair.

“My spies tell me you have a nice new dress and shoes.”

How did he know that? Surely he can't mind read, can he?

“No, I can't mind read, Drew.” Drew looked astonished and unconvinced.

“What do I have to do, sir?”

“Go home now and prepare for Friday. I want you here for assembly and in school uniform. Report to the secretary's office if either she or myself are not available see Miss Cowlishaw.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh and, Gaby...”

“Yes, sir.”

“Keep it under your hat.”

“Yes, sir. Please sir, I might need Maddy Peters to help me get ready.”

“Very well, but swear her to secrecy.”

“Yes, sir.”

He went home after collecting his things and spent the day riding around doing some climbs and speed training. He could get to enjoy this, and tomorrow as well. Unfortunately Dave didn't agree and made him spend the next day cleaning the house and making a meal for them. It was still better than poxy school.

On the Wednesday evening he phoned Maddy—“Can we talk?”

“Yeah, where've you been.”

“I got suspended.”

“Suspended? What, Woodworm's favourite sports star? Why?”

“I caused him to break the engraved glass dish the hockey team won.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Look can I come round?”

“'Course.”

He finished cleaning up after dinner and after checking with Dave, he trotted round to see Maddy. “So why did he like, suspend you?”

“I literally ran in to him, and he dropped the dish or glass bowl and it smashed, he was right angry after that.”

“Why did you run into him?”

“Becks was chasing me after I massaged his goolies with my foot.”

She looked at him very strangely, “You massaged his...?”

“I kicked him in the bollocks; he had me up against a wall and was throttling me.”

“Was that wise?”

“It was the only way I could get him to let me go.”

“If he could chase after you, you obviously didn't kick him hard enough.”

“Thanks for the advice, I'll bear it in mind in the future.”

“Still seems a bit unfair, a week's suspension—it goes on your record.”

“Well, I'm hoping that might not happen. I actually think, if I'd just won the TdF he'd have suspended me for being successful.”

“That doesn't make sense.”

“Look, he wants Gaby to do something for him.”

“Oh yeah, what does he want—it isn't sex is it?”

“Maddy, this is old Woods were talking about, his kids are older than us—I mean the last time he had sex—I should think it was before they changed the currency to decimal.”

Maddy sniggered, then got serious again. “What does he want you to do?”

“I dunno, but he's got some big cheese comin' to the school on Friday and he wants me there as Gaby—but you've got to keep it secret, okay?”

“Okay, so we've got the big banana comin' on Friday, whoopee doo.”

“And that includes the dance.”

“So Gabs is comin' to the dance?”

“Yeah, like why is that? I mean why does he want me at the dance?”

“Maybe he's heard you're a hot mover?” Maddy smirked.

“Oh yeah, like a block of wood on legs, dancin' round my handbag.”

“You missed out, cute.”

“Okay, dancin' round a cute handbag.” He sniggered and she smacked him on the arm.

“You should be grateful you bought that new dress.”

“How did he know about that?”

“Don't look at me, I didn't tell him. You gonna wear it?”

“I have a choice?”

“No, but I'd prefer it for you to volunteer.”

“Okay—but what d'ya think he's up to?”

“His neck by the sound of it, Gabs.”

“Um—excuse me.” He felt affronted by her constant teasing, often calling him Gaby when he wasn't in that mode.

“Why, what ya done?”

“I'm a boy, remember?”

“Yeah, so? I was just practicin' for Friday—well you wouldn't want me to call you by the wrong name, would ya?”

He shrugged and frowned at the twinkle in her eye. There was little point in arguing, she always won. ‘ Easily led ,' that's how his parents described him. He thought he was simply, easy going—but maybe they were right?

“You gonna stop over tomorrow night?”

“I s'pose I could. I'll have to check with Dad.”

“I thought he knew about this?”

“I've hardly spoken to him for a coupla days; an' then he gave me a bollocking for not doing the washing.”

“Well, you were off school?”

“Yeah, I s'pose, but Jules doesn't do much anyway, why is it always me? I'm like the house skivvy.”

“It's not that bad, Gabs.”

“I'm Drew—remember?”

“Yeah, sorry,” she blushed for a moment, “maybe he sees you as his second daughter.”

“If that was so, how come daughter number one, gets off scot free?”

“She's his favourite?”

“They way they fight, I wouldn'ta thought so.”

“P'rhaps that's the problem, if he asked her she'd argue, whereas you just do it.”

“Anyway, this slave girl's gotta get back.” He sighed and Maddy sniggered.

“I'd quite like you to be my slave girl, I think.”

“Eh?” his mouth gold-fished and she laughed dirtily.

“That got your attention, Gaby Bond.”

He didn't correct her, he was too tired. Carol had agreed for him to stay on Thursday night and when he found Dave, who was doing something in the garage, he grunted a reply which Drew assumed was affirmative.

“What did Mr Woods tell you about Friday, Dad?”

“Friday? Nothing why?”

“Well he wants me in Gaby mode,” blushed the boy.

“Does he? Oh he did mention it—why, don't you want to do it?”

“It's alright, I s'pose.”

Dave looked round and watched the disconsolate boy go back into the house. “Don't forget your training ride tomorrow—and the lawn could do with another cut; oh, and the ironing's building up; and the windows are filthy...” He snorted to himself, and chuckled quietly—but then he knew something, Drew didn't.

Showering after his ride, it was still only eight o'clock, Drew thought about the list his father had recited last night. He knew it was a joke, but he dressed and after eating a second breakfast, he did a whole pile of ironing. Moving the iron up and down the ironing board, made him very aware of his breasts, which he hadn't bothered hiding behind a bandage or sports bra. They were itching against his tee shirt so he went up and was about to don his usual sports bra, when he thought he wouldn't, instead he pulled on an ordinary one and re-donned his tee shirt, tying his now—dry hair, in a ponytail, he glanced in the mirror and suddenly Gabs was back.

He'd given up on boy's jeans, they just didn't fit anymore—too big in the waist and far too tight over his broadening bum—so the figure in the mirror looked very girlish, in fact he had to admit, he was quite cute—except he'd argue with anyone else who said it about him.

On impulse he stripped off the jeans and top and pulled the dress from the wardrobe. He managed to zip up the back and tied the two straps which came from under the bust. Yep—Gabs was back, and in style. He popped on the shoes and, he'd do, he thought to himself.

The problem was, it didn't matter what he wore these days he got mistaken for a girl, so even in relative boy wear, he'd been able to try on the dress when he was out with Maddy the week before. Oh boy.

He hung the dress back in his wardrobe and after putting his clothes back on went to finish his chores. The ironing took him until lunch time, then he stopped had a sandwich and after reading the Comic , which arrived on a Thursday, he began cleaning the windows. He hated doing it but someone had to. He only did the insides, Dave always paid a bloke to do the outsides and as Drew was finishing, so said window cleaner arrived.

“Hello, darlin', no school today?”

Drew shook his head and pretended he had lost his voice. “D'you want a cup of tea?” he croaked to the window cleaner.

“No thanks, darlin', I just ‘ad one.” He set to with his soapy brush thing and the blade thing that looked like he'd pinched it from a car. He'd done the whole house in twenty minutes, except Drew's eyrie, which was impossible to get at without scaffolding—or from the inside, and Drew had done it himself earlier.

He put the dinner on and started packing up his stuff for the next day and his stay at Maddy's. The school uniform and shoes, his little handbag and then his dress and shoes, a nightie—well he wore them much of the time anyway, and his clean underwear.

Dave and Jules ate with him, nothing clever, spag bol, and Dave grumbled about the long grass. Drew was about to defend himself when, Jules noticed the bird poo had gone from the patio windows.

“The window cleaner's been by the look of it,” she observed.

“Yeah, and don't they look better?” Dave agreed.

“He came just after I did all the insides,” Drew let slip.

“What? You did all the windows?” Dave was surprised.

“Well you told me to do the ironing and the windows—so I did, it took me all day.”

“I'm not surprised. Well done, kiddo.”

“Thanks, sis,” smiled Jules realising she wouldn't have to iron her own stuff now.

Drew looked questioningly at her, then remembered he was wearing a proper bra and his hair was still in a high ponytail.

Dave took him to the Peter's palace, and after a chat and a cuppa with Carol, he went home while the two teens plotted the next day. “C'mon, girls, bed please,” called Carol at ten, “it is still a school day, tomorrow.”

The next morning, after a shower, he dressed in the school uniform with a padded bra—at least this time round he didn't need those horrible rubber things on his chest to give him some shape. He dried his hair and did his makeup, then waited for Mad, who was still fiddling in her bedroom.

“Hurry up, girls, or you're going to be late,” called Carol so he went down for some breakfast. Maddy galloped down a few seconds later. “Hi, Gabs,” she said giving him a hug, “you're really getting the hang of your hair and makeup, aren't you?”

Carol was taken aback assuming Maddy was late because she'd been sorting Drew out—obviously not. Carol stood and looked at the two teens in front of them, only a full physical exam would show that they weren't two girls, and pretty ones at that.

They met Ally and Bernie on the way to school—“Whatcha doin' in uniform, Gabs, you got withdrawal symptoms?” teased Ally.

“Nah, ‘cos her name's Bond, she's on a secret mission for Mr Woods.”

“What to spy on Worksop's netball team?” asked Bernie.

“Cut it out, you two,” objected Gaby. “Oh no, here comes Clive.”

“Gaby—wottabittaluck—you comin' to the dance tonight?”

“Dunno, depends.” Drew tried to be undecided.

The bell rang and they hurried into school, the question remaining unanswered. Drew took himself off to the office where he was told, Mr Woods was out and not expected back for a while. He went then in search of Miss Cowlishaw, and found her in the staff room.

“Hi, Gaby, wassup?”

“I thought you could tell me.”

“No. All I know is we've got some VIPs arriving but Mr Woods has kept their identity much to himself.”

“Oh, well he told me to report to you if he wasn't back—he isn't.”

“Oh, okay, you can help me tidy up in here, they're having some little reception in here before it goes around the rest of the school.”

“Oh okay.” Drew helped move piles of books and clear tables, a little later the catering staff brought in tablecloths and after laying them on the tables, brought in cakes and biscuits and trays of cups.

The work being finished they went and sat in the corner out of the way waiting for the arrival of Mr Woods plus the VIPs, was he collecting them or just late?

Finally at half past nine, in strolled Mr Woods with a very tall man and a beautiful woman, who Gaby looked at and recognised immediately. Wow!

“Oh my God, Gabs, I've just died and gone to heaven—that's James Cracknell,” whispered Fran Cowlishaw. “Who's the girl?”

“Victoria Pendleton, that's who.”

“Who's she?”

“World champion track sprinter and keirin rider.”

“Like your Mum?”

“Yeah, but she's a babe.”

“Gaby!” Hissed Fran Cowlishaw and Drew realised what he'd said and blushed.

Other members of staff appeared and the reason for the visit became apparent. “This is our very own sporting heroine, may I present Gaby Bond, an under sixteen champion road racer.”

James Cracknell towered above the diminutive figure. “How old are you Gaby? Not sixteen that's for sure.” He shook her tiny hand.

“No, sir, I'm fourteen.”

“Well done, girl, keep it up.”

“Gaby Bond? I know that name? You're Jenny's daughter aren't you?” said Victoria shaking her hand.

“Yes, Miss.”

“Never mind the formality, I'm Vickie, okay?”

“Yes, Vickie.”

“Hell, you're nearly family—how is Jenny?”

“Fine, thank you.”

“Pity, we didn't have any bikes about, we could have gone for a quick ride instead of all this stuff. Oh well, the British Olympic Committee and British Cycling—you know?”

Gaby shrugged—a ride with Vickie Pendleton, that would have been a dream come true. Oh well—such is life.

Once the introductions had been made, Mr Woods outlined Gaby's part in the proceedings—pretty simple, but Drew could have done it just as easily.

An hour later, the school assembled in the hall, and Gaby took the reserved seat in the front row, sitting next to a pile of youngsters who didn't know her—thank goodness.

The VIPs and staff appeared on the stage.

“Children, we're very lucky to have a flying visit from two outstanding British athletes, Olympic Champion, James Cracknell and World Champion cyclist Victoria Pendleton. They've come to speak with you about building a team of British Champions, encouraging you to do sports for your own health's sake, but also for the possibility of being good enough to represent your country at international levels like these two wonderful people...” Woods droned on for several minutes before the girls all drooled over James Cracknell and then the boys tongues all hung out at the sight of Vickie Pendleton. Gaby smirked, she had a signed photo of him for Jules and one of Vickie dedicated to Drew Bond.

“I now call upon our own Queen of the bike race , Gaby Bond, to present our esteemed visitors with our own tokens of thanks for finding time to visit us in their busy schedule.”

Gaby jumped up and took the bouquet of flowers and the pen, from the secretary who was standing by the side of the stage. A quick walk up the steps—careful not to trip up and show her knickers—hand the flowers to dream girl Vickie, shake hands again, then over to Jimmy boy, and hand him the pen, shake hands—oops, get a peck on the cheek, too. Then blushing walk quickly back to her seat.

A bit later as the school broke up for lunch and the visitors went off to the next school on the list, Gaby went and found Mr Woods.

“Thanks for that, young lady,” he winked at Drew.

“No, thank you, sir—um why did I have to do this, Drew could have done so just as easily, and why have I got to come to the dance?”

“Yes, Drew could have presented the visitors, but I was aware a certain obnoxious boy would have probably been chasing you all the time. So I suspended you both. He's actually since been expelled, or shall we say, been persuaded to practice his bullying somewhere else. And as for the dance—well my wife and I saw you buying the dress and shoes, and I thought you might like to wear them tonight. I hope you do, that way I get to see how they look as well.” He winked again and Gaby walked away thinking she'd been had—then she felt the photos in her blazer pocket and smiled to herself—pity Vickie P didn't kiss her on the cheek, but then she'd never be able to wash her face again—mind you, Jimmy Cracknell, he is quite a hunk...