Elizabeta looked up. She was standing on the seat of the swing in the school playground, her small hot hands gripping the swing chains tightly. If she could jump just a bit higher, she would be able to grab onto the top bar of the swing set, then swing her legs up and hang upside down! At seven years old, she was quite the adventurer. And she would have carried it through, if she had not heard the dreaded voice.

"Elizabeta Héderváry! You get off that swing this instant!"
Caught by Miss Cuthbert, she thought bitterly as she leapt off the swing nimbly. Miss Cuthbert was her class teacher, and undoubtedly Elizabeta's favourite teacher, even if she did ruin some of her adventures.
"I despair," sighed Miss Cuthbert. "One day you are going to fall and hurt yourself badly, and then you'll learn your lesson."
"I'm not going to fall off," she replied under her breath. The great adventurer Héderváry would never fall off anything. She could see that Miss Cuthbert had one hand on the shoulder of a boy she had never seen before.

He had wavy dark hair with one little bit sticking up, and big violet eyes behind rectangular frames. His coat was long and velvety, and his school uniform was immaculate. Elizabeta looked down at her boys shorts, scabbed knees and scuffed boys shoes and felt a momentary pang of jealousy at how neat he looked before she caught herself – explorers didn't look neat!

"This is Roderich. He's just joined our school today and I'd like you to be his guide for this week."
What? But Elizabeta was an adventurer, an explorer! This boy would totally ruin her games, 'cos he didn't look like somebody who would want to explore. She scowled.
"But Miss…"
"Elizabeta!" The glare was enough.
"Fine," she mumbled, sticking out her hand as Miss Cuthbert left them alone together. Roderich stared at it uncomprehendingly. "Come on," she urged. "Let's go and play."

Roderich was uncomfortable. He looked at the girl in front of him – if you could even call her a girl, she was smudged and dirty and wearing boys clothes. In fact it was only her long wavy hair that made her seem in any way feminine. And even then it was tangled, with tiny leaves in it. But she had said that magic word: play. He didn't think she looked like the type to play an instrument, but you never knew…

"What should we play?" he asked, relaxing slightly, safe in the knowledge that there were instruments nearby.
"Well…" Elizabeta was shocked for a moment – she hadn't truly expected the boy to want to play with her – but she racked her brains for a suitable game. "Maybe a jungle game? Or a war game? Me and you can be on the same side if you want," she added.
Roderich stared at her with a puzzled look on his face for a second before he realized. She didn't mean instruments after all, he thought sadly.

Elizabeta saw the cloud pass over his face, and felt a bit sorry for him. Here he was, all alone in a new school… she would be nice to him for a bit, she decided. She would let him choose the game.
"We can choose whatever you want," she smiled. Maybe this boy preferred farm games, or catch. Just not Mummies and Daddies. Never, ever, ever would Elizabeta play Mummies and Daddies.
"Maybe…?" Roderich twisted his hands awkwardly. "Maybe… Maybe we could… Do you have a music room?"
"Music?" The incredulous exclamation slipped out before Elizabeta could stop herself. Roderich blushed furiously and looked down. Be nice! Elizabeta told herself before smiling again and saying, "Yeah, we have a music room. Follow me!"

Roderich ran his fingers along the smooth piano. The body was as black and as velvety as ebony, and the keys were as white as pearls. He sat on the soft stool, and began to play.
Elizabeta watched in silence. The music was beautiful. It slipped through the air, twisting and dancing, as if it was written to please her.
"I know that song," she said once it was finished and breathy silence filled the room once more. "Is it called 'Für Elise'?" When Roderich nodded she continued proudly, "I can play it."
"Really?"
"Budge up."
Elizabeta joined him on the stool and started to play. It was all Roderich could do to stop himself flinching. He had started piano lessons when he was three years old, and was an extreme perfectionist. Elizabeta played clumsily, pressing out the tune on one finger as if squashing a bug on each key. It was a heavy, clunky sound. But it would be impolite to say such things.

Instead, he focused on her hair. It was a wild mass, like a forest. But there was no denying that it was beautiful. It seemed there were a hundred shades running through it like sunbeams, ranging from a dark woody brown to a honey gold. Roderich slowly, hesitantly, reached out one pale hand – and pulled a leaf from it. When Elizabeta stiffened, he mumbled, "I'm just – your hair – it's rather – messy…"

As Roderich slowly started to take out each thing from her hair, Elizabeta felt herself relax into a place she had hardly ever been before.
She had wished countless times in her seven years that she was a boy. Her parents weren't around often, and for most of her life she had been left in the care of nannies, her best friend Gilbert's parents, or simply to fend for herself.
So she had run wild. She yearned for the freedom that she felt came with being a boy, but somewhere far inside her was a tiny piece of her soul that said I like being a girl.
And as she felt her long tresses being handled so carefully by this boy she hardly knew, she could feel that part of her soul singing, loud and clear.

Once the song was finished, both children sighed because it was over. Roderich sighed with relief that such a painful rendition of a beautiful piece of music was over. But Elizabeta sighed because she thought it was lovely and missed the sound. She turned to look at her new friend, with his big pretty eyes and serious expression.
"I love you, Roderich," she said, matter-of-factly.

The Austrian boy gasped and blushed, his pale cheeks flooding with the bright colour of embarrassment.
"You – you – you shouldn't say things like that!" he admonished, stumbling over the words. He had been raised very strictly and properly. "We have to get married now," he continued, following the strict etiquette rules that had been drilled into him.
Elizabeta just took it in her stride.
"Oh well," she shrugged. "Should I tell Gilbert to be my bridesmaid?"
"Boys can't be bridesmaids!" exclaimed Roderich.
"Maybe I'll ask Natalia instead…" mused Elizabeta. "Can I play 'Für Elise' at our wedding?"
"No. I'll play it," replied Roderich, shuddering at the thought.

Epilogue

"Gilbeeeeeert. Me and Roderich are getting married, and you're my bridesmaid."
"No way!" shouted the silver-haired boy. "I don't want to wear a dress!"
"Well, tough!" replied Elizabeta sternly. "You have to."
"That means you have to wear a dress too," snickered Gilbert, trying to find at least one thing he could tease his best friend about. Elizabeta was shocked and outraged.
"Me? Wear a dress? Never! I'm wearing trousers!"