“Look, there goes the freak!” A voice whispers as I walk down the school corridor, minding my own business. I don’t dignify the bully with any kind of response- instead, I just keep walking, telling myself that their insults can’t hurt me… Even though deep down inside, I know that’s not true.

Six weeks have passed since Megan’s birthday party, since I told Melissa, Lydia and her gang where they could shove their fake ‘friendship’. Just over five weeks have passed since Melissa announced her ‘bounty’ on me- and subsequently got suspended from school and expelled from ballet as a result. At no point during those five and a bit weeks has it ever been as bad as it was on that first Monday, and- thank god- at no point has Bryony faced any bullying of her own. But just because it hasn’t been AS bad, it doesn’t mean that it hasn’t been bad.

Everywhere I go, the whispers and giggles follow me, just as they did when I first came out two and a half years ago. Only this time, I know for a fact that the bullying is done out of malice. They’ve had two years to get used to the idea of me wearing a skirt. Every day that I’ve come to school, I’ve worn a skirt. The novelty has long since worn off. But their contempt for me hasn’t. Either that, or they’re still trying to impress Melissa by trying to make my life a misery. In which case, they needn’t bother- because I refuse to let them get to me for two reasons: firstly, because I don’t need them. I have friends, real friends who really like the real me. And secondly, because as I leave school today, I have just one full day of secondary school left before I’m done with it forever.

Okay, so maybe the sixth form college I start at in September will be just as bad as the school I’m about to leave. Given that I know that Lydia will be going there as well, there’s always that chance. But it’ll be a fresh start, a place where 'boy Ashley' never set foot, a place where I won't have to explain why I changed- because I'll have been the 'real' me from the start. There’ll always be a part of me that’ll miss this school, though- it was the place where I met the rest of the excellent eight, and it’s safe to say that without them, I’d never have been able to wear a skirt to school. It also helps, of course, that Nicole, Megan, Harriet and Mia will be at my college next year too, and I’m certain that we’ll all be able to make new friends next year- friends we’ll all get along with. And, of course, Lydia won’t be the only member of Melissa’s gang to be going to that college- Petra will be going as well.

Even though openly, Petra has the same attitude as the rest of Melissa’s gang, namely ‘unrestrained contempt’, she’s continued to message me in private, reassuring me that she doesn’t mean any of the things she says and that she genuinely wants to still be my friend- and I definitely still want to be hers. I sometimes wonder what would’ve happened if the excellent eight had agreed to hang out with Petra in September, whether or not I’d even have bothered joining Melissa’s gang, but there’s no sense dwelling on what might have been- I might as well wonder what would have happened if I’d never come out to my parents, whether it’d be a 6’ 2”, muscular boy with fuzzy facial hair climbing onto the passenger seat of dad’s car, instead of the 5’ 8”, skinny girl wearing foundation and mascara…

“Afternoon, Ash!” Dad says with a grin as I fasten my seatbelt and we wait for my sister. “Just one day left, then?”

“Yep,” I reply, not even looking up as I get my phone out of my bag and switch it back on.

“Well- I know the last few weeks have been tough,” dad says sympathetically. “But there’s just one day left, and then you’ll be free.”

“What- free to study all day for my exams?” I ask with a sarcastic snort of laughter. “Though I’ll admit, that’ll be an improvement…”

“Well- like I said, one more day,” dad says. “And your exams will be over by the end of June, then you’ll be free to do whatever you want while your sisters will have to keep going to school until the end of July.”

“Thanks for reminding me of that, dad,” Bryony says with a touch of sarcasm as she slides onto the back seat.

“I was just cheering up your sister, and you know why,” dad reminds my sister, eliciting a grimace from the young girl.

“Yeah, okay…” Bryony mumbles. “Sorry, Ash…”

“Apology accepted,” I say with a smug grin, and a little sarcasm of my own. “And besides, why are you complaining? You love school, and homework, and things like that…”

“…Okay, I take back my apology,” Bryony snorts.

“Girls,” dad says firmly. “Besides, Ash, it’s a double celebration for you this weekend, isn’t it? Surprised you’ve forgotten…”

“Oh- believe me, I haven’t forgotten!” I chuckle as I think ahead to the weekend- particularly Sunday. The reason I’m excited about Sunday is that today is Thursday the 9th of May, meaning that Sunday will be the 12th of May- exactly sixteen years to the day after I was born. So yes, I’m excited for the weekend, and it should be obvious why!

Saturday will also be fun, though- that’s the day I’m having my ‘official’ party with all of my friends. Of course, ‘all of my friends’ just means ‘the excellent eight plus Petra’, but that’s more than enough for me, and it’s only going to be at my house, rather than at a fancy venue like last year, but I know the party will still be a LOT of fun. The following day will be a big, fancy meal with all of my family, including grandparents, great-grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins- many of whom I haven’t seen in years; and many of whom have never even met ‘girl Ashley’ before, so I’d be lying if I said the prospect of that didn’t make me nervous. And then, on Monday, with no school, I have an extra-long appointment with my counsellor, where we’ll be talking about hormones…

“Ballet night! Ballet night!” My two younger sisters cheer as they climb onto the back seat alongside Bryony, bringing me back to reality.

“Hi girls!” I say to the two excited figures on the back seat.

“Hi Ashley!” Cassie and Dorothy reply simultaneously.

“Are you excited about Sunday, Ashley?” Dorothy asks.

“Yep!” I reply with a grin. “Are you looking forward to it? You get to wear your new dress, after all…”

“And you get to wear Ms Fullerton’s special birthday tutu tomorrow!” Cassie reminds me, making me giggle excitedly yet again.

“Yep!” I squeak, forcing an excited grin on my face; though deep down, I’m just glad to be surrounded by friendly faces again.

Once we arrive home, I head straight up to my bedroom, where I waste no time in exchanging my school uniform for a comfortable pair of black leggings and a long, plain t-shirt. The reason for my haste quickly becomes apparent as, before I can make it back down the stairs, a knock comes from our front door- or rather, a pair of knocks, as I discover when I answer the door.

“Hey Ash!” Harriet squeaks as she and her girlfriend ambush me with tight hugs. “The Ashley Support Squad is here!”

“Thanks girlies!” I giggle. “Even if that acronym SUCKS.”

“Hmm… Depends on whose ‘Ashley Support Squad’ you’re talking about!” Mia retorts as she gives her girlfriend’s backside a stealthy squeeze before we all head into the living room together.

“But still,” Harriet says. “Just one more day to go! Are you excited yet?”

“Or more excited about the weekend?” Mia teases.

“…Both,” I reply with a girlish giggle that my friends echo. “And the months off after my exams are done…”

“Rub THAT in, why don’t you?” Mia snorts. “We’ll still be at college right up until the end of July.”

“But we’ll get our own back next year, hehe!” Harriet giggles. “Ahh… I know I’ve said this before, but you are going to LOVE college.”

“Totally,” Mia agrees. “It’s, like, you leave school and go somewhere like college, and you realise just how shitty school actually was.”

“W- watch the language, my little sisters might be around!” I say with a giggle, making my pale-skinned friend blush.

“Sorry…” Mia mumbles, before giggling again. “But it IS true, you know? Everyone’s, like, more grown-up. I dunno, maybe it’s because we actually chose to go there, but we HAD to go to school, maybe.”

“That’s exactly what I was gonna say!” Harriet giggles as she gives her girlfriend a gentle kiss.

“And stop THAT, too,” I moan.

“What?” Harriet protests. “It’s not going to hurt your sisters to know that lesbians exist, is it?”

“No, but it’ll hurt ME,” I moan, earning confused stares from my friends. “Been single for months? Turns out my girlfriend wasn’t that into me after all? And it’s not like any other girl at school’s gonna go out with me…”

“Well, THEIR loss!” Harriet says.

“And at college, that WILL change, Ashley,” Mia says with a smile. “I promise. You’d be surprised how many LGBT there are in college. And you’re more, well, free to be L, G, B or T. You’ve not got, like, the Sam Reid mafia prowling around, looking to kick the- well, I’m sure you know.”

“Yep,” I say with a sigh as I scratch the still-visible scar above my eyebrow. “Sometimes I wonder what happened to that bi- that, umm, that B-word.”

“More like ‘that C-word’,” Harriet snorts.

“She’s not at our college, that’s all I know,” Mia shrugs.

“She wouldn’t dare,” Harriet says smugly. “I’d kick her teeth down her homophobic, transphobic, bigoted throat again.”

“I think I heard that her brother was in prison,” Mia says. “Which is hardly surprising, heh.”

“But who cares about life’s losers, anyway?” Harriet snorts. “We are here to celebrate one of life’s big winners- MISS Ashley Moore!” I grin as my friends do a playful cheer on my behalf.

“Though on the topic of ‘losers’,” Mia says, “how were Melissa and her morons today? I am allowed to say ‘moron’, right?”

“…Maybe not in front of Eddy or Felicity,” I reply with a giggle. “And to answer your first question: no worse than usual. So, well, still pretty bad.”

“Ugh,” Harriet spits. “Maybe I should give her the Sam Reid treatment as well?”

“As fun as that would be, there’s not much point,” I say. “I’m going to be done with them in 24 hours, remember?”

“How could we forget?” Mia giggles.

“And on the whole, they’ve not been as bad this last couple of weeks,” I shrug. “Maybe they’re too busy studying, I dunno.”

“Meh,” Mia shrugs. “Have you finished with cheer club as well?”

“Yep,” I reply. “Didn’t both going back after- well, after the you-know-what hit the fan. But then it stopped after Easter anyway, so- yeah. School’s basically been a case of lessons and hanging out with my sister and trying not to cry about how everyone there thinks I’m a freak, heh.”

“Well, everybody there are losers then, aren’t they?” Harriet says smugly.

“Are you going to bother taking in an old shirt for tomorrow?” Mia asks. “You know, for people to sign? I’ve still got mine from last year.”

“Me too,” Harriet sighs happily.

“Yeah…” I grimace. “Don’t think there’s much point if George is the only one who’s going to want to sign it, heh. Well, the only one who’ll write anything I want to read, anyway.”

“Meh, your choice, I guess,” Mia shrugs. “I get you probably won’t have a lot of fond memories of that place.”

“Well… Not Year 11,” I reply. “The first four years were fun though, ‘cause I used to hang out with a group of AWESOME girls, hehe!”

“D’aww!” Harriet and Mia simultaneously coo as they approach me for a very welcome group hug.

“Well, we’re looking forward to picking up where we left off next year, hehe!” Mia giggles.

“Yep, so am I,” Bryony says as she enters the living room and deliberately sits down as far away from the rest of us as possible. “We’re looking forward to having our table back!”

“Aww,” I say with a mock pout, which earns no sympathy and an eye roll from my younger sister.

“Are you looking after Ashley then, Bryony?” Harriet asks.

“More importantly, are you looking after our table?” Mia asks, earning a deeper pout from me, followed by a giggle as she sticks her tongue out.

“Meh, yes to both, I guess,” Bryony shrugs. “Ashley’s not been too much of a pain, in fairness.”

“Thank you, sis!” I say with a smug grin that earns me another eye roll from the 12-year-old girl.

“We’ve got a cool group of people at our table, though,” Bryony continues. “There’s Sabrina and Lily, who are Nicole’s and Laura’s sisters, then there’s Jo and Ari, who are Lucy’s and Petra’s sisters.”

“Ugh, so half cool, then?” Harriet asks, aware of my history with Lucy, and my 'public' history with Petra.

“Meh, Jo and Ari are alright,” Bryony shrugs. “It’s their sisters who are the pains.” I force myself to nod even as I fidget in my seat at the insults that are being thrown in Petra’s direction. For obvious reasons, she’s asked that I don’t tell anyone at school about our secrets messages, and sadly, that includes Bryony and the rest of the X8- if I told Nicole, she’d almost certainly tell her sister, who’d tell Bryony, who’d tell everyone else, and that’d ruin everything for me AND Petra. So, for now, I bite my tongue- in just a few hours, it won’t matter anyway.

“Are you looking forward to Saturday, Bryony?” Mia asks.

“Definitely,” Bryony replies. “I’m spending all day at Sabrina’s house, so yes, I am looking forward to it.”

“Literally no respect…”I pout, earning more sympathetic hugs from Harriet and Mia. “Just for that, I won’t go to your sweet sixteen!”

“I don’t want you to come to my thirteenth birthday party next month,” Bryony retorts, making me chuckle and shake my head.

“We argue like this all the time, she doesn’t mean it really,” I explain to my friends, making my sister roll her eyes again.

“And, well, I guess it hasn’t been TOO bad having Ashley at the table,” Bryony says, before growling as she tries to fend off a hug from me.

“…It has been kind of fun,” I confess. “Not as much as when we were all there, but- yep. Definitely better than the alternative, heh.”

“Well- just one more day to go!” Mia says, making me smile once again.

“Yep,” I say. “Just one more day…”

My friends stick around for another half an hour, long enough to ensure I've completely forgotten about any stress I may have picked up today at school. After dinner, Cassie and Dorothy head to their dance class, and I take the opportunity provided by the quiet house to head up to my bedroom and get some serious studying done. I’m pretty much up to speed in both my French and German and have been predicted eights for both, and I'm also predicted an eight in English. In maths, though, I’m only predicted a six, so I spend most of the evening revising and making sure I know how to calculate the area of a circle and exactly how to calculate the answers to a quadratic equation (the fact that there are more than one is still a bit confusing). And yes, despite our earlier bickering, Bryony (who has a predicted grade of eight if she were to take her maths GCSE today, despite being only twelve) helps me out too, which is always a bit humiliating, but if it gets me a higher grade, I’ll happily put up with it. This is because strictly speaking, tomorrow isn’t so much the start of ‘freedom’ as it is the start of exams- the real freedom will come once they’re all over. The one good thing about exams is that I only have to go into school for the exam, and I can leave immediately afterward…

The following day, my alarm wakes me at 7am as usual, and I eat my breakfast as usual, before showering, pulling on my uniform and heading down to dad’s car with my sisters, as usual. When we arrive at the school gates, though, it becomes immediately clear that today is not going to be a usual day.

The front gates have been decorated with balloons, streamers and a giant banner that reads ‘good luck Year 11’. Balloons and streamers have also been tied to the railings lining the short road leading from the front gate to the car park, and everywhere I look I see other kids from my year wearing oversized shirts that are already being filled with graffiti from their friends.

“Are you sure you didn’t want to bring a shirt for your friends to sign, Ash?” Dad asks as he parks up. “We definitely wouldn’t mind, under the circumstances…”

“No -no, I’m fine,” I sigh. “It’d probably only have George’s name on it at the end of the day, anyway…”

“I’d sign it,” Bryony shrugs from the back seat. “I’m sure Sabrina would too, and Jo, Lily, Bailey-“

“Yeah- yeah, thanks,” I sigh. “I’m good. Just one more day, then it’s over and done with.”

“You never- did you ever wish you’d taken the compromise your headteacher offered?” Dad asks. “After you came out, I mean?” I pause before replying as I gaze at myself in the mirror of the sun visor, at my long blonde hair, my baby-smooth face and the subtle make-up outlining my eyes. My gaze then heads downward to the soft white blouse I’m wearing, and the short, straight grey skirt and opaque black tights that cover my legs.

“…Never,” I whisper, before grabbing my bag and exiting the car, followed closely by my sister. Almost immediately, the giggles and the whispers that I’ve become used to start, though they’re easily drowned out by the excited squeals and shouts from the rest of my year- almost as though they’re too focussed on each other to be bothered about me today, which is something I don’t mind at all.

As always, though, there’s one person in my year who is ‘bothered’, and who greets me with a smile as we head to form.

“Alright, Ash?” George asks as he walks with me, wearing his own oversized shirt that’s already got many names on it.

“Yeah,” I shrug in reply. “Gonna be better when today’s over, though.”

“Meh, don’t blame you,” George says. “Feels weird that today’s, you know, it, right?”

“Yeah,” I reply.

“Okay…” George says uncomfortably. “You feeling alright?”

“Huh?” I reply. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, just- meh, I dunno. Looking forward to the weekend, maybe.”

“Meh, don’t blame you there!” George chuckles as we take our seats. A short while later, Mr Jackson arrives to start the day, wearing the same wide smile as the rest of the class.

“Well then,” our form tutor says, for once not minding the noise my classmates are making. “It’s been a long, five years, hasn’t it? I look out at all of you and I am surprised by just how much you’ve all changed in that time.” Aaaaaaaaand here it comes, I think to myself.

“Ashley’s changed the most of all of us!” Jonas, a boy who’s been in my form for all five years and who I’ve barely ever spoken to, shouts out, as if on cue.

“Changed for the better,” I retort with a smug grin as Jonas sneers. I’ve become pretty good at quick retorts over the last six weeks- not that I've had much choice.

“There’s still one lunchtime left for you to get a detention if you really want one,” Mr Jackson says, which silences not only Jonas but the rest of the class as well. “That’s better. As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, over the last five years you have all grown, not just in the physical sense, but as people as well. You’ve become more mature- some of you have, anyway- and you’re all on the path to become adults, your own men and women. You can all take pride in what you’ve achieved over the last five years. All of you.” Despite the defensive attitude I’ve had over the last six weeks, I can’t help but smile as Mr Jackson looks straight at me while commending the rest of the class.

While all of my teachers have been supportive of my transition, in some cases it felt like they were only supportive because they had to be, because they were told to be by Mrs Houghton or because they feared being fired if they weren’t. This isn’t the case with Mr Jackson- he’s been supportive of me since day one. Maybe I will miss something else about school after all- and despite my friends’ reassurances, there’s no guarantee that any of my teachers at college will be as trans-friendly as Mr Jackson or many of my other teachers at this school.

As it’s our last ever form session, we remain in the classroom for what would otherwise have been the first lesson of the day, though we all head to 'normal' lessons for the second half of the morning- French, in my case. Eventually, the bell rings, and while the rest of my classmates are excited by the sound, I am, as always, filled with a sense of dread. I take a deep breath as I stand up, grab my bag, straighten my skirt and follow the rest of the class out of the building, trying to maintain a stoic face as they all excitedly sign each other’s shirts- though I can’t help but notice that none of them are asking me to sign their shirts. On the plus side though, ‘ignoring me’ is definitely better than ‘pointing and laughing at me’…

“Hi Ash,” my sister says as I reach my usual table and take my seat, as always wincing at the fact that I’m a clear four inches taller than anyone else at the table.

“Hey girls,” I say with forced enthusiasm. Just one more day… I think to myself. “Had a good morning?”

“Meh, same as always,” Sabrina replies. “Well, for us, anyway!”

“Yeah, my sister’s been going on about today for WEEKS,” Jo- Lucy’s sister- snorts. “You’d think she was being let out of prison or something.”

“Petra was the same,” Ariadna- Petra’s sister- says.

“Yeah, well, they’re not entirely wrong,” I say with a half-chuckle, half-sigh.

“Didn’t you want to bring in a shirt for everyone to sign, Ash?” Lily innocently asks.

“Meh, I- I doubt anyone would want to sign it, heh,” I chuckle.

“I would,” Sabrina shrugs.

“Me too,” Lily says, making me bite my lip to prevent myself from crying.

“I mean,” my sister shrugs, “just ‘cause we’re not in year 11, it doesn’t mean we can’t sign it, right?”

“You signed Nicole’s shirt last year,” Sabrina reminds me.

“And Laura’s,” Lily says.

“And we are going to miss you,” Bryony says, though I can tell she’s trying not to roll her eyes as she speaks. “A bit.”

“D’aww!” I coo, making the other girls giggle as I give my sister a playful cuddle, which does make her roll her eyes.

“Paedo!” A voice shouts from the distance, making me suddenly release the cuddle and bringing an awkward silence to the table.

“…Loser,” Jo snorts. “Oh- umm, not you Ash, but that moron, whoever he was.”

“Meh, I’m used to it by now,” I shrug. “And won’t have to worry about it ever again, heh!”

“SO jealous,” Sabrina sighs. “Last year Nicole was, like, rubbing it in my face EVERY day when I had to go to school and she didn’t.”

“…And now I’ve got THAT to look forward to every morning,” Bryony snorts. “And of course, I’ve got it even worse because we have to share a bedroom because our parents apparently needed to have six kids.”

“Meh, I th- th- think it’s c- cool,” Bailey, a girl from year 7 stutters. “Ash is a- a lot n- nicer to you than m- my sister is.”

“Yeah, well, she still decided not to come to my party tomorrow…” I pout, earning another eye roll from my sister. “I’m kidding, I get it, I really do.”

“I doubt it,” Bryony scoffs. “The last thing in the world you would understand is ‘being a little sister’.”

“Well, actually, you- you’d be surprised,” I sigh. “This year is the first time ever that I hung around with friends who were younger than me. Hell, even Melissa and her gang are all older than me, though by weeks instead of, like, months and years.” I grimace as once again, another awkward silence falls over the table- made all the more awkward by what was shouted at me a few seconds ago…

“Well, I know my sister’s really looking forward to your party tomorrow,” Sabrina says with a grin.

“Mine too,” Lily concurs as the smile starts to return to my face.

“Mine too,” Ariadna says, confusing me and the other girls at the table, who are all aware of Petra being a member of Melissa’s gang but don't know about mine and Petra's 'secret messages'- though I honestly assumed Ariadna didn't either. “…What?”

“Umm…” I mumble. “Is- is your sister even allowed to come to my party?”

“Just because our parents don’t support LGBT things, it doesn’t mean they can force Petra not to be friends with you,” Ariadna shrugs.

“Umm, I- I was thinking more about Melissa,” I say.

“Yeah, so was I,” Jo says. “Are- do your parents really not like LGBT people, then?”

“They’re from a pretty strict part of Poland,” Ariadna replies. “Parts of Poland are actually calling themselves ‘LGBT-free zones’. Makes me glad I can legally call myself British.”

“My sister would fit right in there,” Jo snorts.

“So would most of Year 11,” I sigh. “I- I really didn’t know that Petra wanted to come tomorrow, though? Did- has she, umm, told you that we talk online?”

“Yeah,” Ariadna replies with a shrug. “What? She’s leaving school today, it’s not like it matters anymore, right?”

“Well, I- I guess,” I shrug.

“And it’s not like she hasn’t had to put up with a lot of gówno at school, either,” Ariadna continues. “Especially before my parents won the lottery. As well as being legally British, I’m glad I almost sound British, too.” I bite my lip as I nod and remember that two other members of the Excellent Eight could say the same thing- though unlike Petra and Ariadna, Priya and Suri don’t have the luxury of being white. I dread to think how hard my life would’ve been if I was transgender AND a person of colour…

“Anyway,” Sabrina says, “because it’s Ash’s birthday at the weekend, tonight at ballet, we get a special dance!” I giggle and blush as the girls at the table all playfully cheer- with so much going on, I’d forgotten all about the dance class’s tradition for birthday girls.

“You’ve got a really fun weekend coming up then, Ash?” Lily asks.

“Yep!” I reply. And the sooner it starts, the better, I think to myself…

The bell soon rings to end the break period, and- followed as always by the giggling of my classmates- I head to my next lesson, which in this case is physics. As I take my seat, though, it occurs to me that as our final lesson has been usurped by a special assembly for the whole year, this will in fact be my last ever lesson in this school. I can’t help but feel a little emotional as we go about our work (which by this point is just revising for our exams)- and fortunately, everyone else in the class is too focused on their revision to be bothered about me. I never thought I’d ever find something positive about the stress of exams… Eventually, the bell rings, bringing with it the start of lunch- and the real beginning of the end.

“Hey girls!” I say with an almost euphoric grin as I sit down at my usual table. “Guess who just had their last ever lesson in this school?”

“Ugh, you couldn’t at least have waited until Monday?” Bryony snorts.

“Nope!” I reply, giggling as the other girls all roll their eyes. “Oh, come on, cheer up- it’s almost the weekend!”

“Yeah, whatev- look out!” Lily yells, confusing me as she points over my shoulder. The next thing I’m aware of is a dull thump on the top of my head, before my entire vision turns white and everything seems to fall silent. What feels like an ice age passes as my vision slowly returns, revealing that everything didn’t go white because I was knocked out by the blow, but because I’ve just had a large bag of flour burst over my head- flour that’s all over my blazer, my skirt, my tights, my hair…

I freeze in place in a state of total shock as my younger friends all stare, equally as shocked as I am, until eventually the silence is broken by the one sound I was both expecting and dreading the most- the sound of laughter. Laughter directed at me. A full five years’ worth of laughter from my school ‘friends’ at my final, most public humiliation. Under the circumstances, there’s only one thing I can do.

I start to laugh as well.

I titter, then chuckle, then guffaw, before finally turning around and roaring with laughter at the teenagers behind me. And the louder I laugh, the quieter their laughter becomes until they eventually just stop and glare at me angrily.

“What the fuck are you laughing at?” One of the troglodytes, a boy in my year named Mason, asks.

“Isn’t it obvious?” I snort. “I’m laughing at you.”

“You what?” Mason grunts.

“I’m laughing at the fact that you think I care about this,” I explain. “I’m laughing at the fact that your lives are so sad that you actually spent time planning this. I’m laughing at the fact that you think I’m going to- what? Go home crying? Beg you for forgiveness? Be sorry that I ever felt like I was a girl? Because if you think this is going to stop me then you’re as stupid as you are ugly. Because this means NOTHING to me. When I get up tomorrow, I’m still going to be a girl. And you’re still going to be a LOSER.” Okay, maybe I went a bit far there, I think to myself as Mason’s face turns almost purple with anger and he lunges toward me, and I hold up my flour-covered hands to defend myself from his incoming punch. Don’t do anything stupid, Bryony, I think to myself as I brace myself for the impact, only for it to never come- instead, the next thing I’m aware of is the sound of a body hitting the floor- and the voice of my guardian angel.

“Don’t even bother standing up,” George says, and as I open my eyes, I can see my best friend in this school standing over Mason, who is slumped on the floor, cradling his right arm.

“What’s going on here?” Mr Clapton, one of the school’s music teachers, says. “Ashley?” My confidence slowly starts to dwindle as once again, everyone’s eyes turn toward me.

“Yeah, he did that,” George explains, pointing at the supine teenager at his feet. “Then he tried to punch Ash and, well, I recently got my black belt at Judo, and, well- yeah.”

“Right, fine,” Mr Clapton sighs. “George, I’ll talk with you in a bit, don’t go anywhere.” I have to suppress a grin as the teacher then addresses the boy on the floor, who’s suddenly looking a lot less confident that he was a few seconds ago. “You- my office. Now.”

“Sir, it was Ashley, sir!” Mason pleads. “She threw the flour over her own head to try to frame me!” My grin immediately breaks through as everyone around- Mr Clapton included- starts laughing at Mason’s feeble attempts to shift the blame onto me.

“Do you think I was born yesterday?” Mr Clapton snorts. “My office. Now. Clean yourself first though, if you get flour on my furniture, you’re paying to have it cleaned. Move!” I laugh again as Mason scampers away, though I can feel my adrenaline- not to mention my confidence- quickly disappear when Mr Clapton turns to face me. “Are you alright, Ashley?”

“I- I guess,” I mumble, suddenly very aware of the fact that I’m sat in school covered head to toe in flour.

“I’ll get her cleaned up,” Bryony says, helping me to my feet and escorting me to the girls’ toilets.

“I’ll call your parents,” Mr Clapton says as my mouth begins to wobble and my face starts to burn. Once we reach the toilets, I can’t hold back any longer, and I break down in a flood of tears, bawling my eyes out as Bryony tries futilely to comfort me.

“Hey- hey, come on, take a deep breath,” my sister says, clearly shocked by my sudden breakdown. “It- it’ll be okay, it’s okay…”

“One day!” I wail. “Just one fucking day! They couldn’t even let me have that!”

“E- easy, easy now…” Bryony says, clearly on the verge of tears herself. “I- I’ll get some, umm, some paper towels…”

“Thanks,” I whisper, closing my eyes and taking several deep breaths to try to calm myself as Bryony disappears around the corner. Before she returns, though, I hear several pairs of footsteps enter the toilet block- and when I open my eyes, I’m face to face with the last person I wanted to see right now.

“Look at HIM, everyone,” Melissa sneers, a look of smug triumph on her face. “Look at the pathetic BOY who thought he could be one of us!”

“Scum,” Lucy sneers as my cheeks start to burn.

“This,” Melissa sneers in my face, “is exactly what you deserve for getting me expelled from the dance school. I hope you burn in hell, you sad, pathetic BOY.” I close my eyes as Melissa rears back and spits in my face, soon joined in by the rest of her gang as all I can do is cower, tears streaming from my eyes as I hope and pray that Petra's saliva isn't also dripping down my face…

Eventually, the girls stop and leave me, laughing triumphantly as they go. I take a deep breath to try to clear my shame and desperately try to tap into the righteous anger I felt earlier when confronting Mason.

“Hey!” I call after the girls.

“What?” Melissa sneers, making me grin inside- she just can’t help herself sometimes…

“When I wake up tomorrow,” I say, “I’ll still be a girl. And when you wake up tomorrow, you’ll still be a cunt. And you will never, EVER stop me.”

“…Whatever,” Melissa sneers as she leads her ‘friends’ away- though as she goes, I can’t help but notice Petra very subtly winking at me…

“Are- are they gone?” Bryony whispers, emerging from one of the cubicles. “Ash, I’m so sorry, I- I should’ve-“

“You should’ve stayed exactly where you were, out of harm’s way,” I reassure my sister as I start to wipe the saliva and flour from myself. “And to answer your next question, yes, I’m fine- much better now that I know I’ll never have to see their faces again.”

“Even Petra?” Bryony asks, making me pause.

“…Well, we’ll find out tomorrow, I guess,” I shrug.

“Really?” Bryony asks. “You still want her to go to your party after THAT?”

“She won’t do anything tomorrow,” I say smugly. “I’ll have all my REAL friends there, anyway, and we’ll find out if she’s one of them.”

“And if she isn’t?” Bryony asks.

“You know my friend Harriet?” I ask.

“Who, the ginger girl who scares even boys?” Bryony asks.

“Yep,” I reply. “She’ll happen to Petra.”

“Ouch,” Bryony grimaces as I chuckle. “So, umm, you- are you really okay, then?”

“…I dunno, maybe,” I sigh as the adrenaline starts to thin again. “Melissa, she- she’s less important to me than this paper towel. She’s a part of my past now, and she can fucking well stay there. But- I dunno. I just want to go home, heh.”

“Well, Mr Clapton did call dad,” Bryony says as I finish wiping myself down. “I can always get a lift home with Sabrina’s dad, I’ve got my ballet uniform with me, so- yeah.”

“Okay,” I whisper. “Bryony, I- I’m really glad you’ve been here this last year.”

“…Same here,” Bryony says. “Don’t hug me though, you’ve still got some flour on you.”

“Heh,” I say with a roll of my eyes. “You’ve kinda got some on your skirt, anyway, some must’ve landed on you when- well, yeah.”

“Where?” Bryony asks as she examines her knee-length skirt. “I can’t see it…”

“Hold still, I’ll get it,” I say, grabbing an unused paper towel and wiping the residue off of Bryony’s skirt.

“Thanks,” Bryony whispers. “Ash, I- I think I’ve told you this before, but I- I’m happier you’re my big sister instead of my big brother.”

“…So am I,” I say as I wipe away the last of the flour. “And now we ARE hugging.”

“Ugh, fine,” my sister says, before smiling as we exchange a gentle hug. “I think Mr Clapton’s waiting outside.”

“Heh, okay then,” I sigh. “Would’ve been nice to go to that assembly but right now, I just don’t care.”

“Don’t blame you,” Bryony snorts as we leave the toilet to find the music teacher waiting for us.

“Thanks for helping out, Bryony,” Mr Clapton says. “Drop by my office at the end of the day, I’ll make sure two merit points are added to you.”

“Thanks,” Bryony says with a smug grin as she walks off to rejoin the rest of our friends.

“I’ve called your father and he’s on his way, Ashley,” Mr Clapton says to me. “As for Mason, well, hardly any point in suspending him, I suppose, but this absolutely will not go unpunished, I promise you that.”

“He could always pay to have my blazer cleaned,” I sigh as I brush yet more flour off my shoulder, before grimacing as I see a dark stain left by one of the other girls’ spit. I could very easily drop Melissa and the rest of her gang in a lot of trouble right now- but what would that accomplish? Like Mr Clapton says, there’s no point in suspending them, and even worse, I could get Petra in trouble too…

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” Mr Clapton says with a supportive smile. “But don’t worry about that. Go and get your bag and head out to the car park, your dad will be here in a bit.”

“Okay,” I whisper. “Thanks.” I take a deep breath as I grab my bag from my lunch table, before saying goodbye to my young friends for the last time and heading out to the car park to wait for my dad.

As I wait, though, the emotion of the situation finally overtakes me and I start to weep yet again. My time at school is over. I won’t have to deal with any of the morons in my classes ever again, I won’t have to deal with Melissa ever again… And considering what just happened, that’s a blessing. As much as I tried to put on a brave face, the fact is that my overriding memory of my final day at school is being humiliated and spat on. Spat. On. By simply being who I am, I motivated other people- my peers- to spit on me like I was the lowest type of scum. And as much as I try to convince myself otherwise, there’s a part of me that feels like the lowest type of scum right now…

“Ash!” Dad yells from his car, snapping me out of my funk and summoning me over to his car. Wordlessly, I skulk over and lower myself onto the passenger seat, before fastening my seatbelt and switching my phone back on. “Don’t need to ask if it was a good last day then, do I?”

“Not really, no,” I sigh.

“I- I actually did bring an old shirt with me,” dad says. “One of yours, I mean, in case you’d changed your mind?”

“What, and have that get spat on as well?” I snort, grimacing as a sound of pure pain comes from my father.

“Oh- Ash…” Dad sighs angrily. “They told me someone had flour bombed you, I- I didn’t realise they’d – well, done THAT as well. Bloody animals…”

“It wasn’t the same person,” I mumble. “It was someone else.”

“Well, two people can get the dry-cleaning bill for your blazer, then,” dad snorts.

“F- five people,” I sigh. “The- the, umm…”

“The spitting?” Dad asks, sounding almost close to tears.

“…That was Melissa and her gang,” I sigh, earning an angry growl from my father that makes me wince. “Sorry…”

“Oh- YOU have nothing to apologise for!” Dad snarls. “Literally nothing. It’s those idiots you go to- USED to go to school with who will pay for what they did to you, Ash. If anything, I should be the one apologising.”

“Umm, what for?” I ask.

“For not giving you more support when you first came out,” dad mumbles, sniffing back a tear of his own. “I realise now that you didn’t choose to be transgender, Ash- no one does. It’s simply who you are, and it’s not a bad thing- in fact, it’s a good thing.”

“How is me getting spat on for being who I am a good thing?” I ask.

“THAT isn’t,” dad replies. “But being transgender is part of who YOU are. And that automatically makes it a good thing.”

“…Thanks,” I whisper. “Probably wouldn’t have had the day I had today if I’d worn trousers instead of a skirt, though.”

“Maybe not,” dad shrugs. “But you wouldn’t have been true to yourself if you hadn’t worn a skirt.”

“…That’s true,” I say with a smile as we head back home. “Thanks, dad.”

“I’m your father,” dad says with another shrug. “Helping you be true to yourself is just part of the job.”

My smile remains on my face as we reach home, before greatly widening as I finally change out of my stained uniform. I instinctively reach for an outfit similar to last night’s before pausing. Dad’s dead right about one thing- I need to be true to myself. I deserve to be true to myself. I could dress androgynously, like last night, but I’m not androgynous- I am a girl. Simple as that. And I like wearing skirts, tights, dresses, leotards and all those other wonderful things that girls get to wear. I have more than earned the right to wear them whenever I want. The ‘true me’ is a 100% girly GIRL. And that’s what I’m going to be.

I close my t-shirt drawer and smile as I pick a casual, but short and tight short-sleeved grey dress out of my wardrobe and a pair of translucent black tights out of my underwear drawer. I sigh as I look at my reflection in the mirror of my make-up table- what little mascara and eyeliner I’m allowed to wear to school has streaked all down my face from me crying. I take the time to repair my destroyed make-up, but before putting my cosmetics away, I grin as I spot the tube of pink lipstick I received in last month’s Angels subscription box. I apply a liberal amount of the cosmetic to my mouth, before brushing my hair out into a loose, cute style and examining my reflection in the mirror. There is no doubt in my mind that I am 100%, wonderfully female. Outwardly, I appear so too. And soon, hopefully, my body will start to change to match how I feel inside…

Before heading downstairs, I giggle as I attach a pair of fashionable shoes with a chunky 4” heel to my feet and pose for several selfies in my full-length mirror, several of which make their way onto my Instagram, accompanied by the simple hashtag #girl. I may only have a couple of thousand followers and as such, I’ll probably only get a handful of likes on my photo, but every like I get is further proof that Melissa and the other morons are 100% wrong.

I lazily browse through Instagram for the next half an hour before putting my phone away (and, sadly, taking off my shoes) when I hear the front door open and close. I head downstairs, expecting to see my three younger sisters back from school, but am instead greeted by an unexpected- but still very welcome- surprise.

“Surprise!” All of the other seven members of the Excellent Eight cheer simultaneously, making me shriek as they wrap me in a tight group hug that nearly crushes my ribs!

“Oh my god!” I squeak. “All of you?”

“You really thought we wouldn’t?” Priya asks. “On your last day?”

“Especially as we heard what happened,” Nicole says in a soft, sensitive voice. “Sabrina texted me and- yeah.”

“If I ever see Melissa or any of those other bitches again, they’ll be sorry,” Harriet growls, making me smirk as I remember what I said to Bryony earlier.

“But you don’t need to worry about them EVER again,” Laura says. “Because YOUR weekend starts here!”

“Over the next three days,” Suri says, “we are going to make you feel like the most spoiled, pampered, girly princess of all time!”

“Though I see you’ve already made a start with that cute dress, hehe!” Mia giggles as I do a twirl to show off my dress to my friends.

“We’ve got another bit of clothing you might like better, though,” Megan says as she removes a shirt from her bag- a shirt that’s covered in graffiti including signatures, drawings and even lip prints from all of my friends- all of them dedicated to me.

“Oh- oh my god!” I squeal, fanning myself with my hands as the shirt is placed over my shoulders. “Is this one of your shirts?”

“Nope,” Megan replies with a smug grin. “It’s one of YOURS.”

“Wh- one of mine?” I ask.

“Bryony stole it from your wardrobe last week,” Laura explains. “Then it made its way to us- I shouldn’t need to explain how- and we figured we’d surprise you with it.”

“We figured you probably wouldn’t take one along today, for obvious reasons,” Suri says. “So, we decided we’d sort everything out for our ‘little sister’, hehe!”

“D’aww, you guys…” I sigh as I try to blink back tears. “How- how did you know about Melissa?”

“Umm, ‘cause Sabrina told me,” Nicole replied, chuckling as I frown in confusion- if Bryony told Sabrina about the spitting incident, I am going to KILL her… “She told us she set up that moron Mason with the flour, and- well, yeah…”

“…Yeah,” I say, breathing a sigh of relief. No need for my friends to know about the ‘other thing’- god knows Harriet’s angry enough as it is…

“Good to see you’ve got the right type of make-up on now, though!” Laura giggles. “And where did you get that lipstick? I’ve been looking for a colour like that for AGES…”

“Well, umm, you should have it already?” I say. “You do still subscribe to the Angels’ subscription box, don’t you?”

“Well… Lily does, so I’ll have to steal it from her, hehe!” Laura giggles.

“Don’t say that next month at your audition!” Nicole chastises my fellow transgender girl.

“What audition’s this?” I ask, smirking as Laura starts to blush.

“I may- I may have got an audition to be represented by Heavenly Talent,” Laura mumbles in reply.

“Oh my god, really?” I squeak.

“Kinda helped by the fact that I know Jamie, and Nikki and Steph, of course,” Laura giggles.

“And by the fact that you’re a young, sexy, gorgeous, girly girl!” Megan teases, making her BFFs cheeks redden even more.

“Oh- come on,” Laura pleads. “This is supposed to be Ashley’s day, how about we focus on her?”

“Nope,” I say with a smug grin. “After today, just sitting back and gossiping will be PERFECT.”

And sit back and gossip is exactly what we did for the next hour, until the girls went back to their homes and had their dinners. They were, however, all in attendance at the Krystie Fullerton School of Dance a short while later to watch me don the special extravagant tutu, tiara and pointe shoes and dance Ms Fullerton’s special routine, just as every other girl gets to do on her birthday. And at no point during the evening did a single person even think of throwing flour over me, or spitting on me, or harming me in any conceivable way. For the first time in a long while, I felt truly, unconditionally loved- and the weekend was far from over.

I’m woken up the following morning by the sound of Bryony- who also watched me dance last night, along with all of my other siblings- brushing her hair and getting dressed.

“Mmph,” I moan as I reach for my phone. “What time is it… 7:30am? Why are you up so early?”

“I just want to give you as much of the day as I can,” Bryony shrugs. “And get out of the way before your friends arrive.”

“Fair enough,” I shrug, before grinning as I see my graffitied blouse from yesterday hanging on my wardrobe door. “And thanks for stealing my shirt, by the way. Just don’t make it a habit of going through my things.”

“Eww, like I would?” Bryony sneers, before rolling her eyes and smiling. “It’s okay. And you’re welcome.”

“And thanks for signing it, too,” I say as I focus on my sister’s impeccable handwriting on the back of the blouse.

“You’re welcome there, too,” Bryony says, before sighing and giggling. “…Yes, I’ll want you to sign mine in three years’ time.”

“Hmm… That can be arranged, hehe!” I giggle, before jumping out of bed and surprising my sister with a cuddle. I giggle again as Bryony tries to struggle out of the hug, before sighing and relaxing.

“Oh- come on,” Bryony moans as I hold on to the cuddle. “Do you think I could have my arms back at some point today?”

“Meh, if you must,” I giggle as I release my sister. “But thanks again.”

“You’re welcome,” Bryony says with a smug grin. “Again! Hope you have a fun party!”

“Oh, I will!” I reply as I return to my bed, though predictably, excitement over the day ahead prevents me from getting back to sleep. I get up just after 8am, and after a quick breakfast, I head back up to my bedroom, where I’m almost giddy with excitement about the day ahead.

I start, as always, with a plain black thong and a matching bra. I might not have much 'shape' to my chest- not yet, anyway- but other sixteen-year-old girls wear bras, so why shouldn’t I? I need to be true to myself, after all. A pair of shiny nude-coloured tights follows next, and once my legs are encased, I head to my make-up table and carefully brush my hair into my favourite loose, cute style, before applying my make-up - thick eyeliner and mascara, smoky silver eyeshadow, another of my favourite dark pink lipsticks and, because I'm not due to go into school for ages, a coat of my favourite pink nail polish. With my look almost complete, I head to my wardrobe, where I sigh happily at the tough choice that’s facing me.

As it’s not technically my birthday until tomorrow, I don’t have any brand-new dresses to choose from (though I’ve been assured I will tomorrow), but I still have several ‘effectively new’ ones- ones the Excellent Eight haven’t seen before. It takes some time to decide, but the dress I eventually plump for is a very grown-up looking but still cute dress in dark blue that has a flared knee-length skirt with a delicate lace hem, translucent cap sleeves and a black lace décolletage with a high neckline. A quick spritz of my favourite sweet-smelling perfume and a pair of strappy sandals with a closed toe and a chunky 3” heel complete my look, and as I stand back and look at myself in my mirror, my heart races even faster than it did yesterday as it dawns on me that I truly am a beautiful young woman- just as I’d always dreamed of.

My hair is long and soft, my face is blemish-free, my body- while ‘undeveloped’- is tall and slender, and my legs are toned from years of ballet. I am the type of girl that would make any parents proud to have as their daughter, and I am absolutely, 100% proud of the woman that I am becoming.

I’m not proud to also be the type of girl that gets spat on by other girls, though…

“Wow, Ashley!” Cassie squeaks as I come downstairs. “You look so pretty!”

“Thank you!” I giggle as I do a twirl, showing off my dress to an enthralled Cassie and Dorothy. Eddy, of course, is both three years old and a boy, so pays no attention to my dress (which will no doubt come as a relief to our father), but I'm still going to show it off for him anyway. He IS my brother, after all.

“Mummy,” Cassie asks in a pleading voice, “can I have a dress like Ashley’s for my birthday, please?”

“Okay, first, your birthday is five months away,” mum reminds my sister. “Second, the dress is a little old for you. Maybe when you’re a bit older, say around Ashley’s age, then we’ll talk about getting you a dress like that.”

“Aww,” Cassie pouts, before shrugging and giggling.

“Are you going round to Daisy’s house today, then?” I ask my sister, who grins and nods.

“Yep!” Cassie replies. “Me AND Dorothy!”

“I figured you’d want the house to yourself and your friends today,” mum says with a grin. “I’ll be taking Eddy and Felicity to your grandparents’ once your friends arrive.”

“Thanks,” I say with a smile.

“You’re still not getting any presents until tomorrow, though,” mum says, making me roll my eyes as Cassie and Dorothy both giggle at my expense. “And the usual rules apply today. Don’t touch the alcohol. You have £30 for a Deliveroo on the side. Any damage to furniture, YOU pay for.”

“Yes, mum, I know,” I mumble.

“But most importantly of all,” mum says as a wide grin spreads across her face, “have fun! You only turn sixteen once. Enjoy it. God knows you’ve earned the right to enjoy yourself today.”

“Yeah,” I whisper- mum was obviously made aware of both of yesterday’s ‘incidents’ and was just as angry as dad was- though thankfully, she was angry at Melissa, Mason and the other idiots, rather than at me, as I’d initially feared. I don’t know why I was scared that mum- or dad, for that matter- would be angry at me, but I was. Maybe it was because of the sheer mess that I was in, or the fact that Bryony could’ve got in harm’s way, or the thought that maybe I did deserve what happened to me yesterday…

“Sounds like your dad’s back,” mum says as we hear a car pull up outside. “Go on you two, go and get ready!”

“Okay,” Cassie says, though before she leaves the living room, she and Dorothy both jump onto the sofa to give me one extra hug before heading upstairs.

“Have a great party, Ashley!” Cassie giggles as she and Dorothy head up to their room.

“I will, thanks!” I reply, my whole body tingling with anticipation as I await the arrival of my seven best friends- though tingling with nerves too at the prospect of Petra coming too, not to mention the possibility of any ‘uninvited guests’…

My anticipation doesn’t last long, though, as just before 11am, a knock comes from the front door, and when I open it, I’m greeted by loud squeals and tight hugs from four of my very best friends.

“Happy birthday Ashley!” Laura squeaks, almost exploding with excitement. “That dress looks SO good on you!”

“Thanks!” I giggle. “So does yours- but then again, most things look good on you, hehe!”

“Thank you,” Laura says with a smug grin as she poses to show off her short, tight red dress, and despite myself, I can’t help but feel jealous.

I’ve always envied Laura and her ability to be effortlessly feminine. Her hair is longer and more golden-coloured than mine, she’s taller and slimmer than me (and she actually has breasts, unlike me) and her legs are longer and more toned than my own. She even has blue eyes, whereas mine are a dull brown colour, and she’s had far more boyfriends than I’ve had girlfriends. Though that amount is still at zero if you don’t count pretend girlfriends.

By any objective standard, Laura is a more beautiful girl than me. And yet, she’s never made me feel that way. Even though she’s been transitioning for longer than me, having started aged 11, been taking hormones since the age of 14 and is scheduled for her final surgery in the next 24 months, she sees me- started transitioning aged 13, no hormones yet and not even thinking of surgery right now- as just as much a girl as she is. The more I think about it, the more I realise just what a true friend Laura is- and god knows she’s been through a lot more than simply being spat at…

“You ALL look amazing!” I giggle as I stand back and allow Laura, Megan, Priya and Suri into my house, gazing in awe at their gorgeous dresses- and smiling as I remember that I truly am one of them.

“Thanks in advance for having us, Mrs Moore,” Priya says as she starts unloading a small pile of gifts onto the coffee table.

“You’re very welcome, girls!” Mum replies with a smile. “Have fun today!”

“We will,” Laura replies with a giggle.

“And I AM opening these presents today,” I say with a smug grin that makes my mother roll her eyes before giggling.

“…Fair enough,” mum chuckles as she picks up my youngest sister in her car seat and takes my brother by the hand. “Say goodbye to your sister, Eddy!”

“Bye Ashley,” the three-year-old boy says.

“Bye Eddy!” My four friends and I all coo, giggling as the little boy grips our mother’s hand tightly as she leads him out of the house- which is no doubt a relief to him!

“Ahh, your little brother’s so cute!” Suri squeaks excitedly. “I wish I had a little brother or sister who’s that young, hehe!”

“Yeah, well, I DID,” Megan says. “He’s now eleven and an absolute pain in the arse, so enjoy it while it lasts, Ash!”

“Little sisters are much cuter,” Laura says with a grin.

“Agreed!” I giggle.

“They are SOMETIMES,” Priya says, smirking as her sister pouts at her. “But I definitely agree with you about Lily, and Bryony and the others.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t actually Lily I was thinking of,” Laura says as she grins in my direction. “It was OUR little sister I was thinking of, hehe!”

“Well, you won’t get any argument from us!” Suri giggles as I start to blush.

“Ashley! Ashley!” My four friends all cheer, while my cheeks start to burn and I shriek with laughter!

“Aww- you girls…” I squeak, fanning myself with my hands.

“Today, you are going to be the princess that you deserve to be,” Priya says as I’m sat down in the middle of the sofa.

“So just sit back, relax, and let your big sisters spoil you all day!” Suri says as my excitement levels keep rising. THIS is what having true friends should be like, I think to myself as I’m filled with a sense of utter contentment- and regret that I haven’t been as good a friend as I could’ve been over the last few months. However, my friends are obviously not holding any grudges, and I plan on more than making it up to them over the course of the next year.

Harriet, Mia and Nicole arrive shortly afterward, and after a toast in my honour- which makes me blush even more, even though we’re only toasting with lemonade- I’m sat back down and ordered to open my presents. It should go without saying that all of my friends’ presents are amazing- even those who aren’t here today.

“This is from George,” Megan says as she hands me a small gift. “He would’ve come today, but he figured that today really should be girls only, hehe!”

“He’s learning, then?” Harriet asks with a smug smirk, which turns into a giggle when Megan nods in reply.

“Oh- aww, this is so cute…” I sigh as I unwrap the gift to reveal a photo frame with 'Friends Will Be Friends' written across the top. “I’m definitely going to have to send him a message on Facebook later.”

“I know he’d like that,” Megan says with a grin that I share- even though we won't be hanging out at school anymore, it's not like George will be completely gone from my life, not as long as he's going out with Megan- which will be a long time, given how into each other they are- and as long as Megan and I are friends- which will hopefully be forever.

“Ours next!” Suri squeaks as she and Priya hand me a brightly wrapped gift, which I quickly unwrap to reveal the Bohemian Rhapsody DVD- a film I've wanted to watch for months.

“Oh my god, thank you so much!” I squeak. “Thank you ALL so much, this- this really is too much…”

“Don’t be silly, this is your sweet sixteen!” Laura says.

“Every girl deserves to be spoiled rotten and treated like a princess on her sixteenth birthday,” Mia says. “EVERY girl, no matter how they were born.”

“Well- thanks…” I say, giggling and blushing yet again as my friends all cheer. “It certainly makes a change from the last few months, that’s for certain.”

“Ugh,” Harriet spits angrily. “I really wish I’d been at school with you this last year, Ash. I would’ve made those bitches PAY.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “You’ve kinda said that before, heh.”

“Meh, just means I mean what I say,” Harriet says with a smug smile. “No one hurts my little sister- NO ONE.” I smile as my ginger haired friend pledges her support for me, though I can’t help but think of Petra as she speaks- and of what I’ve been told about Harriet herself.

During their first year at school- before I started there- Harriet bullied Laura mercilessly, going out of her way to make Laura’s life miserable. As it turned out, she was being coerced- threatened, even- to do so by her homophobic and transphobic father. Who naturally reacted badly when Harriet came out- even worse than my own father did. Fortunately for Harriet, she had the option of living with her much more accepting mother, and ever since, she’s been a crusader in support of LGBT people. Whether she’s making up for what she did in her first year of school, I can’t say- I’m just glad that she’s on my side.

…Though whether or not the same can be said for Petra, I don’t know. All of her private messages to me hint that she’s only going along with Melissa out of fear of what she’d do if she didn’t- just like Harriet did with her father. Maybe she means what she says in those messages, maybe she doesn’t- maybe the private messages are an elaborate trap set by Melissa to lull me into a false sense of security and humiliate me yet further. Maybe she truly does hate me. And maybe Harriet genuinely hated Laura when they were in Year 7. All I know is that Harriet is definitely, unquestionably my friend now, and if forced to choose between her and Petra, I’d pick Harriet every day of the week. Of course, if I had the option of being friends with both girls…

“If anyone has a problem with one of us,” Megan says confidently, “they have a problem with all eight of us. Right?”

“Right!” Everyone- myself included- cheers in response.

“Ahh… It’s just a shame, you know, that you have to go out with your family tomorrow, Ash,” Laura sighs.

“YOU think it’s a shame?” I retort, earning giggles from everyone. “But I know what you mean. Having to spend the day with four sisters instead of seven, heh!”

“I was thinking more, like, having a sleepover type of thing,” Laura replies. “And no, not just ‘cause I’m currently single, like…”

“HOW are you still single?” Nicole asks. “Miss ‘so what if I’m transgender I’m sexy as hell’?”

“I am SO taking that as my official nickname!” Laura giggles. “Miss SWITISAH, hehe! But to answer your question, meh, I’m kinda going boy free for a bit. Don’t get excited, you two!”

“Meh, we’re happy with what we’ve got,” Mia giggles as she wraps her arms around her girlfriend and gives her a long, sloppy kiss.

“No!” Nicole teasingly protests. “No, no, no! Do I have to sit between you?”

“Do you WANT to sit between us?” Harriet teases playfully, earning a frustrated groan from Nicole.

“Girlies,” Priya says authoritatively. “I think we’re getting away from why we’re here today?” I giggle and blush as the Indian girl points in my direction and the other girls all coo and giggle good-naturedly at me.

“Honestly, I LOVE this, I really do,” I say. “I’ve, like, got months to catch up on, right? And it’s not like I’m any less single myself, heh. Unless, you know, Laura, you wanted to, maybe…?” I playfully flutter my eyelashes as the tall girl, making her giggle and sigh as the rest of our friends all coo expectantly.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Ash,” Laura says with a sly grin. “But you’re far, FAR too girly for my tastes, hehe!” Naturally, this reply brings a smile to my face, and elicits cheers from all of my friends.

“Thank you, MISS White!” I say in as ‘prim and proper’ a voice as I can manage.

“You’re very welcome, MISS Moore!” Laura replies in a similar voice. “Ahh… Kinda a pity we can’t all be at the same college next year, you know?”

“Pity we can’t all be studying in the same city next year!” Suri teases her sister, who sighs and roll her eyes.

“I’ll be home at the holidays,” Priya retorts. “Durham’s a great university, I’d be stupid if I didn’t take the opportunity, especially as I got the scholarship. And when I graduate, I’ll probably be living and working in London, unlike SOMEONE who wants to go and live and work in Hollywood!”

“Exactly,” Suri says. “When I’m a big movie star and I’m living and working in Hollywood, I can fly you all out for big Hollywood parties whenever I want!” Naturally, this earns an excited giggle from all of us!

“How about you, Ash?” Priya asks. “What subjects are you doing at A-Level?”

“Umm, definitely French and German,” I reply. “Maybe English, maybe sociology.”

“Still dreaming of being a flight attendant?” Suri asks, grinning as I nod. “I know who to employ on my private jet when I’m in Hollywood, then!”

“As long as I get to attend all the parties as well?” I ask with a pleading look on my face.

“Well, duh!” Suri giggles.

“Have you read that book that came out this year, though?” Laura asks. “About the girls who work for that French airline, who are known for hiring a lot of transgender flight attendants?”

“The one your boss at the coffee shop used to work for?” I ask.

“Well, deputy manager,” Laura corrects me. “And she hardly works there anymore now that she’s at uni too, but, well, yeah.”

“I think I’m getting that tomorrow, actually,” I say. “Definitely something I’m interested in reading, though.”

“Good job none of us bought it, then!” Megan chuckles.

“And you really shouldn’t be reading during a birthday party, anyway!” Nicole says. “Especially not during a Sweet Sixteen! And speaking of ‘sweet’, girls?” My excitement levels rise again as Suri and Priya head into the kitchen, where they’d earlier left a very large, conspicuous box. When the sisters return, they’re carrying a very fancy looking cake that makes me squeak even more excitedly!

The cake is covered in pink frosting with delicate multi-coloured buttercream flowers on the sides. The top is decorated with loads of tiny marzipan decorations, each one representing something I love- a dress, a tube of lipstick, a pair of pointe shoes and many more. And in the middle of the cake are sixteen candles surrounding the word ‘Happy Sweet Sixteenth Miss Ashley Moore’.

“Oh my god!” I squeak as all of my friends take photos of me in front of my cake. “You really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble…”

“Don’t be silly!” Priya chastises me as she lights the candles. “You’re our little sister, and that means on your sweet sixteenth, you get spoiled!”

“Even if your ‘Sweet Sixteenth’ is lasting, like, two and a half days!” Mia teases, making me giggle.

“Though if anyone’s earned a birthWEEK instead of a birthDAY, I’d say you have, hehe!” Laura says. “And on that note, girls, on ‘three’. One, two three…”

“Happy birth WEEK to you…” My friends all sing as my cheeks start to burn. “Happy birth WEEK to you. Happy bir-“ Before the song can finish, however, we’re interrupted by a knock from the door, bringing confused looks to all of our faces.

“Are you expecting a delivery, Ash?” Megan asks as I stand up to answer the door.

“No, the Amazon guy’s already been,” I reply.

“Postman?” Mia suggests.

“Ditto,” I say, before tensing up as I see a familiar face staring back at me through the spyhole of the front door- Petra’s face.

I quickly glance behind her to make sure that she’s alone- I doubt my cake would taste very nice with spit all over it- before slowly and nervously opening the door. An awkward moment of silence passes as we stare at each other, both of us fidgeting nervously on our heeled shoes.

“…Hello,” I eventually mumble through clenched teeth.

“H- hi,” Petra says nervously, occasionally glancing to one side. “I- umm, Ari did tell you I was planning on coming today, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” I reply. “But that was before yesterday lunchtime.”

“I didn’t spit, I swear,” Petra pleads, before flinching as a figure looms behind me.

“Who is it, Ash-“ Harriet starts to ask, before growling as she sees who I’m talking to. “You have some fucking nerve coming here today.”

“I- I just want to give Ash her present,” Petra says, holding out a gift and stepping forward, only to be blocked when Harriet steps between us.

“I don’t think so,” Harriet says firmly. “After what happened yesterday? You really think we’ll let any of you in?” Once again, Petra nervously glances to the side, which Harriet immediately picks up on and sticks her head out of the door, checking either side.

“I came alone,” Petra says. “Honestly. Please, may I come in? I swear I did not spit yesterday.”

“S- spit?” Harriet asks as my stomach starts to churn again. “Ash?”

“It- it’s nothing,” I mumble as much to my surprise, tears start to form in Petra’s eyes.

“Explain,” Harriet orders the Polish girl.

“A- At lunch yesterday,” Petra stammers. “After the- the flour thing, we- Melissa and the others, we- we- we spat on Ashley in the toilets, but I swear I never- aiiee!“ Petra shrieks as Harriet’s fist suddenly swings toward her face, and if I hadn’t been in time to catch the punch, it would’ve done a lot of damage.

“N- no, Harriet,” I whisper, flinching myself at the look of pure fury in the ginger girl’s eyes.

“…So you think LGBT people deserve to be spat on, do you?” Harriet asks the Polish girl.

“No, I don’t, I swear, I didn’t spit yesterday, I only pretended,” Petra pleads, clearly genuinely afraid for her safety.

“That’s almost as bad,” Harriet says.

“I- I didn’t want Melissa to be angry at me, too,” Petra mumbles, tears now flowing freely from her eyes. "I- I am a coward..."

“So… What?” Harriet asks. “You’ve come to, I dunno, smash Ashley’s face into the cake?”

“…Yes,” Petra mumbles, catching both of us by surprise.

“I- I’m sorry, what?” I ask.

“Melissa wanted me to ruin your party,” Petra confesses as I frown with confusion. A glance at Harriet reveals she is just as confused as I am- too confused even to try to hit Petra again.

“O- okay,” Harriet says. “You know that’s never going to happen now, right?”

“Yes,” Petra says, composing herself. “And that is why I told you. I am sick of being told who my friends can be. And I- I like you, Ashley.”

“…Okay,” I mumble.

“I’ll show you the text,” Petra says, getting her phone out of her bag and opening up a text.

‘Do u still message ladyboy?’ The text- which is from Melissa’s number- reads. ‘Try and get urself to its party on Saturday and teach it a lesson. Don’t care how but get a photo lol.’

“…She is SO lucky she’s not here right now,” Harriet says through gritted teeth.

“No, but I am,” Petra says, fidgeting and adjusting her fashionable dark red dress. I wonder if she wore red because she knew what would happen if she had ruined my party?

“Okay…” I say.

“So, um, can- can I please come in?” Petra asks.

“…It’s Ashley’s party, it should be her decision,” Harriet replies, making me wince as I’m put on the spot.

I genuinely don’t know whether or not to believe Petra. On the one hand, she didn’t do a thing to stop Melissa’s bullying over the last six weeks, and actively went along with it- or at least, pretended to. Her private messages to me over Facebook were always full of apologies, but Melissa knew about them as well. Petra seems sincere, but it could all just be an act- and god knows what’s in that present she’s brought…

As I look into the Polish girl’s eyes, though, I’m reminded of a saying that I’ve tried to live my life by- ‘You can never have too many friends’. Over the last few months, trying to live my life by that saying has caused me more stress than I could ever have imagined. It’s indirectly caused me to be bullied, humiliated and literally spat on. But I never stopped truly believing in the saying. You truly can never have too many friends- as long as the friends are themselves true. Is Petra a true friend? Certainly not on the same level as the other seven girls. Could she be? Possibly. And I don’t want to slam the door on that possibility.

“…Come in,” I say, smiling as Petra’s eyes immediately light up.

“Are you mad!?” Harriet asks as the other six girls slowly emerge from the living room- all of them immediately frowning as they set eyes on Petra. I can’t help but fidget as I'm reminded of the last few months of school- only this time with Petra taking the role I played, while I feel like all of the other kids who teased me, bullied me, spat on me... I don't like being on this side of things anymore than I'd like to be in Petra's shoes right now. I'd rather look AT someone than look down on them- that's something girls like Melissa do, after all, and I will NOT be like her. I'd rather be my own woman.

“What’s SHE doing here?” Mia growls.

“I thought you weren’t inviting any FAKE friends?” Laura asks as I start to feel more and more uncomfortable- and the tears return to Petra’s eyes.

“I, umm, I should go…” the Polish girl mumbles.

“Good idea,” Priya sneers.

“N- no,” I say firmly. “It’s MY party. And I- Petra is- is my friend. Just like all of you are.”

“Friends don’t spit on each other, though,” Harriet says, making me grimace as all of my other friends glare angrily at Petra. Maybe it would be easier if I just sent her away… Then again, it’d have been easier if I’d just worn trousers to school, instead of a skirt. It’d have been easier to just go along with Melissa and her gang, like Petra did- or rather, was forced to. It maybe would have been easier to have never come out in the first place…

“Spit!?” Laura growls.

“Mel- Melissa and her- ugh. Her cronies did, yesterday,” I explain. “Petra says that she didn’t. And I- I believe her.”

“Well… Okay,” Priya says. “If you’re sure, Ashley?”

“I am,” I say confidently as I remember that late last year, I offered to introduce Petra to the rest of the Excellent Eight, and they opted not to take me up on the offer- another ‘easy option’, and one that some of the Excellent Eight are clearly remembering.

“Okay then,” Suri says, standing aside and letting Petra enter, before giggling. “Heh, just remembered a quote- ‘it takes courage to stand up to your enemies, but more courage to stand up to your friends’.”

“Who said that?” Laura asks. “Like, Gandhi or someone?”

“It was Dumbledore,” Petra says, visibly relaxing as she shares a giggle with Suri.

The next fifteen minutes are spent explaining the situation- how Petra was intimidated into following Melissa, the private messages we exchanged, and the ‘other’ incident from yesterday afternoon, which unsurprisingly enrages all of my friends. Fortunately, everyone quickly returns to high spirits when I open my present from Petra- a pair of cheap but still fun earrings. I cut my cake after that, and the nine of us waste no time in eating it, and after a quick lunch of Deliveroo pizzas we clear a space in the middle of the living room, put some music on and dance the rest of the day away.

At some point during the middle of the afternoon, I head to the kitchen to get myself a drink- dancing in heels is thirsty work, after all- and am surprised when I find my Polish friend in there alone.

“Oh, hey Petra,” I say cautiously. “What are you doing in here?” Waiting to slam my head in the fridge? I think to myself.

“Oh. Just, umm, getting a drink,” Petra shrugs. “I like your friends, Ash.”

“Megan, Nicole, Harriet and Mia all go to the college we’ll be going to in September,” I say. “We’ll get to hang out with them more then.”

“That would be cool,” Petra says with an awkward grin. “Ash, I- I really am sorry. I am sorry I was too weak to stand up to Melissa.”

“Meh, so was I, at first,” I shrug. “But whatever. There’s nothing she can do to me now, heh.”

“That’s what I just texted to her,” Petra says, showing me her phone and the reply to the message Melissa had sent earlier.

‘Am at party now,’ Petra’s message reads. ‘Having lots of fun. Ashley is cool. What are you going to do about it?’ I let out a loud snort of laughter at Petra’s last sentence as we've both established that the answer to it is ‘nothing’.

“And I am sorry I didn’t go with you when you left the group,” Petra says. “But after three years of everyone in school making fun from my accent, I- I just could not go back.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not really any more fun when you’re on the other side of it,” I sigh. “I keep thinking of poor Allie, I- I wish I’d, you know, made amends with her more…”

“Allie was cool,” Petra sighs. “Much more cool than Melissa. But we cannot go back there either. I can, though, go to you.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “And I do appreciate it. ‘You can never have too many friends’, right?”

“I think so too,” Petra whispers. “And I have one more regret.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“That I did not do this,” Petra says, sliding up to me and giving me a long, gentle kiss on my lips. My whole body starts to wobble as my lips slowly part and our tongues come into contact with each other, nervously probing each other’s mouth, swapping each other’s saliva- saliva that might well have ended up on my face and blazer yesterday, and I only have Petra's word that it didn't...

“N- no,” I say, breaking away from the kiss.

“What?” Petra asks, clearly disappointed by my decision. “Why? Do you not think I am attractive?”

“Oh- no, that’s not it,” I reply honestly- with her long, jet black hair, slender body and cute face, Petra is VERY attractive. But even if she looked like Hannah Dexter, I wouldn’t be able to ignore the fact that just over 24 hours ago, I thought she was spitting on me…

“Then why not?” Petra asks. “I thought you did like girls, not boys? Did you not like the kiss?”

“I-“ I reply, before sighing. “I think- I think that maybe…” I pause as I carefully consider my next words- and my next actions. This time, the easy option isn’t obvious. Petra is gorgeous, for sure, and a lot friendlier than Lydia was- and a lot more willing to make friends with the Excellent Eight, too. She’d make a great girlfriend- far better than Lydia, at any rate- but there’d always be that doubt at the back of my mind. That doubt reminding me every time I see her of what she and the other girls did on my last day of school. How can I go through a relationship thinking of that every time I see my girlfriend?

“Maybe…?” Petra asks.

“Maybe we should try being friends first,” I say. “I- I’m sorry, but-“

“It’s okay,” Petra shrugs, clearly disappointed by my decision. “it might have been difficult with my parents, anyway. And my brother!”

“Well, I would say the same, but my parents are kinda used to- well, ‘me’ by now,” I chuckle. “And my brother’s only three, so- yeah.” I grin as Petra giggles happily at my joke. “So, don’t your parents know that you’re- well, interested in girls? Assuming umm, that you- you think of me as a girl?”

“I would be blind to not think of you as a girl!” Petra chuckles. “But I- I don’t know. It’s not that you are ‘girl’ or ‘boy’, it’s more that you are ‘Ashley’ that I- I like you. People are too obsessed with if a person is ‘boy’ or ‘girl’. Why not let people be people?”

“You took the words right out of my mouth,” I chuckle. “Now come on, you don’t want to stay in the kitchen all party do you, friend?”

“No, I do not, ‘friend’!” Petra giggles as we head out to rejoin the party.

My friends stick around until just after 6pm, when my younger siblings return and, obviously, the music switches off. I give each of my friends a tight hug as they leave, especially Petra, who sighs sadly as I release the hug.

“I look forward to hanging out with you more,” the Polish girl says with a grin. “As friends, of course.”

“Yeah,” I chuckle. “Th- thanks for coming. I guess it wasn’t an easy decision?”

“Actually, it was,” Petra giggles, giving me a kiss on my cheek before skipping off to be given a lift home by Priya. I stand on my doorstep and grin as I wave my friends off, before letting out a long sigh and returning into the house once they’re out of sight.

“Take it you had fun then, Ash?” Dad asks as I flop back down onto the sofa and carefully free my aching feet from my heels.

“It was AWESOME,” I reply. “Thank you so much for it.”

“Well, we can’t take all the credit,” dad shrugs. “You’ve really got a great group of friends.”

“Yeah… Definitely,” I say with a tired smile. Melissa and her cronies would never have shown this much love and support for me even if I did choose them over the Excellent Eight, that’s for certain.

“Friends who could’ve helped to clean up, but never mind, eh?” Dad asks, making me roll my eyes as I jump off the sofa.

“…Can I at least change first?” I ask.

“Yes, you can change,” dad chuckles. “God forbid the posh dress gets dirty!”

“Thanks!” I say, before surprising my father with a gentle hug.

“Okay, what’s this in aid of?” Dad asks as he squirms.

“For everything,” I reply. “For all the help you’ve given me over the last sixteen years. Especially the last three years.”

“…I’d be a pretty useless father if I didn’t support you,” dad mumbles, his cheeks starting to redden as he no doubt remembers my early years as ‘girl Ashley’, when he wasn’t nearly as supportive as he is now- such as when he suggested I take my headteacher’s ‘compromise’ about my uniform, when he threatened to prevent me from seeing my friends ever again, or especially when he told me that he’d rather have five sons than four daughters and one son. The father I have today, though, is much better. He’s more supportive of my transition, and it even feels like he loves me more too.

“Thanks,” I whisper again, before heading up to my bedroom, where I’m unsurprised to find Bryony slouched on her bed playing with her phone.

“Hey Ash,” my sister says, not taking her attention away from her phone as I enter the room and carefully strip off my dress. “Good party?”

“It was awesome,” I reply as I pick a t-shirt and a comfortable pair of jeans out of my chest of drawers. Even though I normally prefer wearing skirts and dresses, I’m still a girl if I do wear trousers instead, and if this girl wants to relax in a pair of old jeans, this girl will.

“Cool,” Bryony says half-heartedly.

“It’d have been even more fun if you were there,” I say, earning a snort of laughter from my sister.

“For you, maybe,” Bryony says. “You’d have spent the whole afternoon taking the piss out of me.”

“Not necessarily,” I say, before giggling. “Okay, maybe. I’m sure your birthday next month will be just as much fun. And yes, I’ll go and hang out with my friends if you don’t want me at the party.”

“Yes, and thanks,” Bryony says, before frowning. “Do those friends include Petra, then? I thought I saw her when I came in?”

“Yeah, she was here,” I reply.

“Really?” Bryony sneers, making me frown- not her too… “After what she did yesterday?”

“She- she was only following with the rest of the crowd,” I say. “She didn’t REALLY spit.”

“If you say so,” Bryony shrugs. “I know I wouldn’t want to be friends with someone like that when I had better friends like Laura and the others.”

“Well- well you can never have too many friends, right?” I ask.

“Meh, if you say so,” Bryony shrugs.

“I do,” I say firmly, before sighing. “And I- I appreciate the concern, I really do. If it makes you feel any better, Petra wanted to go out with me, but I turned her down.”

“Pet- Petra’s gay?” Bryony asks. I thought that’d get your attention…

“Well, bisexual, maybe,” I shrug.

“Huh, okay,” Bryony says. “Ari, you know, she says that their parents are a bit, you know, homophobic…”

“Yeah, Petra said the same,” I sigh. “Fortunately, our parents are a bit better about things like that.”

“Well, mum definitely is,” Bryony says. “And I guess dad’s got better as well. Not all of our grandparents or great-grandparents are, though, and we will be seeing them tomorrow.”

“Well- true,” I sigh. While my grandparents and my one living great-grandparent on my father’s side have always (and often ironically) been supportive of my transition, my grandparents and great-grandparents on my mother’s side have been considerably less so, to the point where I was told I shouldn’t go the funeral of my great-grandfather Greg, who died last year. And I’m going to have to see them tomorrow to tell them I’m probably going to start taking hormones soon, meaning I'll be on a path of no return toward becoming a woman, and their grandson and great-grandson is never coming back…

We only have a quick dinner tonight, due to the large lunch (and cake) that I had earlier today and the big, fancy meal we’ll all be having tomorrow. Naturally, my party was the main topic of discussion over dinner- well, apart from my actual birthday tomorrow, anyway! My younger siblings head to bed first, as always, and I head up myself just before 11pm, but it takes me a long while before I get to sleep, thanks to the anticipation- and anxiety- about tomorrow.

The following morning, as often happens on my birthday, I’m woken by the feeling of two small- but growing- bodies jumping up and down on my bed.

“Wake up Ashley! Wake up Ashley!” Cassie and Dorothy both squeak as they shake me awake. “Happy birthday!”

“Aww, thank you so much!” I giggle, giving each of my sisters a cuddle and a gentle kiss on their foreheads, before laughing tiredly as the two bundles of energy grab a hand each and literally drag me out of bed before leading me downstairs, where I squeak with excitement at the sight that greets me.

The living room is covered in pink and silver streamers, with balloons of the same colour tied to every chair and table, and two large balloons in the shape of a ‘1’ and a ‘6’ taking pride of place in front of the mantelpiece. And, naturally, there’s a large pile of gifts on the sofa in my usual spot.

“Oh my god!” I squeak.

“Do you like it?” Cassie giggles.

“Me and Cassie spent all morning tying the balloons!” Dorothy giggles.

"It's amazing," I gasp. "Thank you all so much for this!"

"Happy birthday, Ashley," mum says as she and dad give me a tight, loving hug each.

"Even if it does feel like you've been celebrating your birthday all weekend!" Dad chuckles. "Though I can hardly blame you! Sixteen... It's an important birthday, Ash. It deserves to be celebrated in as big a way as possible."

"Thanks," I whisper. "So... Can I?"

"Yes, you can start opening your presents," mum chuckles, and I don't need to be told twice.

I unwrap DVDs, books (including the one about Soixante-Trois Airlines that I was promised), make-up, clothes- including three new dresses, one of which I intend to wear today- two new pairs of shoes (including very smart-looking pair of pumps that dad unsubtly says I can wear to job interviews), a new dainty gold necklace and, best of all, £150 in cash.

"This- this is amazing," I gasp as I sit surrounded by my presents. "Thank you all so, so much..."

"Well, don't expect it every year," dad chuckles. "Like I said, sixteen's an important birthday, next year won't be quite as extravagant, heh!"

"Vouchers for driving lessons, right?" I ask, earning a sigh from my father.

"No, because I'm teaching you to drive myself!" Dad replies. "Now go and get ready, your grandparents will be here in a bit." I don't need to be told twice as I head upstairs to shower and get ready for the day ahead.

Naturally, as today is a 'family day' rather than a 'friends day', I dial the make-up back a lot, but I still apply foundation, blush and a little mascara, along with my new favourite lipstick that I wore on Friday. A comfortable bra and pair of briefs follow next, along with a pair of nude coloured tights, before I pull on my new dress.

The dress is easily as 'grown up' as yesterday's, but in a different way- the skirt is knee-length but straight, and has a small vent at the back, and it has a high neckline and 3/4 length sleeves that are very form-fitting. The entire dress is in a deep purple colour with an intricate pattern stitched throughout the right-hand side, and I feel incredible once I've slid it over my body. Then again, most of the dresses I own make me feel incredible, and privileged just to be able to wear them- but on a special day like today, I do want to wear a special dress.

A pair of cute flats (heels aren't really appropriate for meeting grandparents) are next, followed by a pair of smart gold studs, my new necklace and a light spritz of perfume. As always, when I look in my mirror, I smile at the sight of the undeniably girly girl looking back at me. The sister, the daughter, the granddaughter and great-granddaughter. The friend, the potential girlfriend, the enemy... But always, always 'the girl'. And no one can take that away from me. Not Melissa, not her cronies, not the morons at school, not even my family. Today, I am a sixteen-year-old GIRL. I just hope all of my family are able to see that...

"Wow, Ashley!" Cassie squeaks just as she did yesterday when she sees me enter the living room in my fancy dress. "I wish I had as many great dresses as you..."

"Yeah, well, three years ago, I would've wished that as well," I sigh sadly. "But, well, my wish came true."

"Yes, but saying that makes it sound like it was by magic," dad says. "It wasn't. It was hard work, and you've earned every dress in that wardrobe of yours."

"Thanks," I whisper, my cheeks starting to redden.

"You have," mum confirms, all of my sisters nodding in agreement. "And you've earned the right to enjoy today of all days. So don't worry about what your grandparents might say. This is YOUR birthday. So enjoy it."

"Thanks," I whisper again, taking a deep breath to compose myself. "I will."

My grandparents start arriving a short while later, and much to my relief, the first to arrive are my father's parents, Grandpa Chris and Grandma Jo, along with Great-Grandma Hazel- probably my favourite of all my grandparents and great-grandparents.

"Happy birthday, Ashley!" The 86-year-old woman says as she pulls me in for a gentle hug. "Don't you look grown up! I always knew you'd make such a beautiful young woman."

"Thanks," I whisper.

"Save your thanks until you've opened these!" Grandpa Chris chuckles as he hands me a small carrier bag of presents.

"Did you think we wouldn't spoil our first grandchild to reach sixteen?" Grandma Jo chuckles as we head back to the living room, where my siblings all excitedly rush to get hugs from our grandparents- even Eddy, who's grown particularly fond of our grandfather and vice versa.

At everyone's urging, I quickly tear into my presents, uncovering yet more books and DVDs, another new dress and, of course, more spending money. I of course profusely thank my grandparents for all of my presents, before feeling my body tense up as a knock comes from the front door, announcing the arrival of my other grandparents and great-grandparents. This time it's mum, seemingly sensing my anxiety, who answers the door, and when she returns, my siblings waste no time in demanding hugs from Grandpa Alan, Grandma Wendy, Great-Grandma Eleanor, Great-Grandma Catherine and Great-Grandpa Harry- the latter of whom has a particularly uncomfortable look in his face as he sees me sat in my dress.

"Happy birthday, Ashley!" Grandma Wendy says as she gives me a cautious hug. "You're looking very, umm, very pretty today!"

"Thank you," I whisper.

"You all are," Grandpa Alan says, earning happy giggles from my sisters.

"But the birthday girl particularly does, doesn't she?" Great-Grandma Hazel asks, looking sternly at my other relatives, who fidget uncomfortably, worsening my tension even further...

"...Yes," Great-Grandpa Harry says eventually. "Yes, she- SHE does. Very, umm, very pretty."

"Thank you," I whisper, before flinching as my great-grandfather sits down next to me.

"Ashley," Great-Grandpa Harry says quietly. "I- I realise that we haven't always been as- as supportive of you as we should have been. I will admit, when you first- first came out, we weren't certain that this was what was best for you. But now, well, it's been two and a half years, and, well, you clearly know what you're doing, this isn't some kind of game that you're playing."

"Umm, okay, thanks..." I say, trying to sound sincere despite the uncertainty in my great-grandfather's voice.

"What we're trying to say," Great-Grandma Catherine says, "is that in our day, something like this- someone like you, I mean- wouldn't have been allowed. But it's not our day, not anymore. It's 2019, and we shouldn't pretend that it isn't. So we are very, very proud to call you our great-granddaughter. Assuming you'll have us as your great-grandparents, of course?" Tears start to trickle down my cheeks as everyone in the room looks at me expectantly- but all with love in their eyes.

"...Yes, yes of course I will!" I giggle as I exchange long, loving hugs with all of my grandparents and great-grandparents- particularly Great-Grandpa Harry, who smiles for what seems the first time since I told him all about the 'real' me.

"You can never have too much family," Great-Grandma Eleanor says, making me giggle as I remember the famous saying that's only two words different. "What's so funny, young lady?"

"It- it's kind of a long story," I reply. "Shouldn't we be getting to lunch?"

"Yes, yes we should," dad says with a grin. "After you open the rest of your presents first." Once again, I don't need to be told twice.

the following day, dressed in a much more casual grey long-sleeved top and short denim skirt, I, along with my parents, sit before my counsellor, racked with nerves about the decision she is about to make.

"...Well, it definitely sounds like you've had an action-packed few days, if nothing else," Dr Williamson chuckles. "And I know better than to keep you from your studies, so I'll keep it brief. I've reviewed your files, all of our meetings and all of your diary entries, and I feel that yes, the time has come to prescribe you full oestrogen. Congratulations, Ashley!"

"Th- thanks," I say, my heart racing as I'm told the news I've longed to hear for so long, news that's far better than any present I received over the last two days, and news I can't wait to share with my friends- my true friends, all eight of them.

"I know what you'll likely say, Mr Moore," Dr Williamson chuckles. "That it's only a day after Ashley's sixteenth birthday, so we could be seen as rushing things, but-"

"Actually, if I was going to say anything, I was going to say 'it's about time'," dad chuckles, earnings smiles from all of the women in the room- myself included. "And I know it won't be easy, but we'll give Ashley all the help she needs. And, well, we've got four other girls, so if nothing else, it'll be good practice, heh!"

"I don't doubt it," Dr Williamson says with a wide grin. "You've been through a lot, Ashley, so I think you've definitely earned this 'win'. And you've just got your exams to go, then you're free for the summer!"

"Nearly," I reply. "Just need to get the school prom out of the way too..."