At first Bart had been rather hostile to anyone who mentioned his height or prettiness. He'd thumped Tom quite often for it; and stubbornly repeated that his grandfather and father were both around six feet tall, so he was more than likely to reach their height as well. Unfortunately for Bart, he would only grow another two inches, but by this time he would have found an answer to his worries.

He'd had an interest in comedy since he was four thanks to Krusty the Clown, and now, what with his awareness of his lack of abilities or academic achievements, decided he should indulge that interest.

And so he invented Bessie.

Bessie was his stand-up comedy act. She'd come about when he'd been messing around in the school's drama dressing rooms one day. As punishment for scoffing at the plotline of Romeo and Juliet, his teacher had cast him as Juliet in their school play; "In Shakespeare's day, women weren't allowed to perform. So they usually got a 'young, beautiful boy' to perform the women's parts," she'd said, snidely.

After the incredibly boring interpretation of the play and Homer Simpson's loud snores had lulled everyone else into a kind of daze, the performance had been ended as quickly as possible, and Bart had, still in full itchy costume and makeup, said his goodbyes to his family, and then retreated to the dressing rooms. He was surprised that he hadn't been beaten to a pulp by the other boys for his role, instead a lot of people teased and commented on how convincing a woman he made.

"Oh, brilliant," he'd said at the time. But then, after the other boys had changed and he was left alone, he took a good look at himself in the mirror. It was true. He did make a convincing girl... with the make up. A rather pretty one at that. His face was small, but would probably be quite plain if he didn't have such blue eyes, and he'd had to stencil over his eyebrows with liner because they were so pale and short. He'd giggled to himself, and crudely molded the nylon wig into a "Marge Simpsonesque" beehive. And after a lot of thought and after Tom walked in on him cavorting about in front of the full length mirror, Bart and Tom started to write material for this new character. As they both turned fifteen over the summer they developed her via phone calls and letters, and then finally, they had something solid.

So on Saturdays in the main hall, when there were regular entertainment nights that the boys themselves were allowed to arrange, Bart or rather 'Bessie' became the main attraction. It wasn't that it was funny because Bart was dressed up as a girl, but because the material was so good, and Bart delivered it with such credibility.

It didn't make Bart and Tom popular, but did gain them some new respect around the school, and attracted another audience; the twelfth grade. They had already shown their faces in the hall occasionally, but slowly, more started to appear, as Bessie's popularity soared.

There was one night in particular that Bart would never forget. Tom would sometimes accompany him on stage, and Bessie would be included in sketches as well as stand-up. This had been one of those nights, when the two of them had been getting ready in the dressing rooms;

"You know, I really think we could get far with this," said Bart, applying his lipstick in the smudgy full-length mirror.

"I don't know… I mean you're great and everything… but I'm sure you'd find someone better to write with," Tom said quietly, straightening the obscenely large false moustache he was wearing.

"Hey, don't say that! I'd never write with anyone except you, you know that! I bet your parents would love it if they saw it." Bart marched over to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Tom blushed; "You know, we could just draw the lipstick marks on," he said.

"Yeah, but I think I prefer this way," whispered Bart, and gave him three more kisses; one on his chin, one on the nose, and one on the forehead. Their friendship was complicated and they didn't like to voice it very much; how many near-sixteen-year-old boys gave each other affectionate pecks, cuddled each other and told the other they were pretty? Whatever it was that drove this affection, they both knew it could never come to fruition. They had completely the wrong sort of chemistry with each other. It was a wonder they were even friends, really.

"Yeah, well you would," Tom laughed.

They had performed well that night, one of the best ever. There had been a lot of laughter, and despite some catcalls and hecklers, they'd just provided their top-class comebacks. Afterwards, when they'd scrubbed off all their makeup and changed back into their own clothes, they'd returned to the hall where they were beginning to show the film Dr. Strangelove using the massively expensive projection unit. They'd joined Peter, Alan and Paul and quietly chatted among each other since the film was repeated so many times at the school it was now almost a bore.

And though now Bart couldn't remember at what point during the conversation it had happened, he'd suddenly become aware of someone staring at him. It was a familiar feeling, for the person doing it, had often stood staring at him with their dark blue eyes.