Simon(e) Book 1: Chapter 8 of 9 by D.L. Copyright  © 2011 D.L. All Rights Reserved. “Excuse me, Mrs Brown. I need to borrow Miss Whittaker,” Mr Henry says as he enters the room. “Please would you come with me? Bring your belongings with you as the bell may ring before we are finished.” I look across to Julie who smiles at me, trying not to laugh, so I give her the evil eye as I pass. I have the dreaded feeling that my parents are probably waiting for me in the office.

An hour later I am still not able to put much weight on my foot and I am now worried about what to do next. I somehow need to get home, and it is probably a good idea to have an X-ray done. I can’t have my parents pick me up without first changing, and I can’t risk anybody seeing me in boy mode. I do have a pair of trousers in my locker, but I’m bound to be found out if I call my parents here.

Josh once again comes to my rescue. Having seen how badly I am injured, and figuring I won’t be able to ride my bike home, he asks me if I would like to come round his house and have my parents pick me up from there. I readily agree. Alison, Mary and Josh help me to my locker where I pick up my spare clothes, hidden inside a plastic bag.

We head to the cycle sheds and they help me onto my bike. Josh then pushes me along so that I don’t have to pedal. Mary and Alison accompany us to Josh’s house. Once I am sitting down in his lounge I tell Mary and Alison that I will be okay and they can leave. Reluctantly, the girls leave me, but I don’t want my parents cottoning on to my having more girlfriends than boyfriends.

I think Julie was attempting to do that today by forcing me into a situation where my parents would have to be called to the school. Josh helps me to change into boy mode. I put my girl clothes and hairpiece into my sports bag and Josh hides them in his bedroom.

“Whittaker farm,” my mother says as she answers the phone.

“Hi, mum it’s Simon. I have a problem. I received a nasty blow to my left foot in P.E. earlier and I am having trouble putting any weight on it. I’m limping badly and it’s too painful to cycle home. My teacher examined it, strapped it up for me, and recommended that if I still had problems to get it X-rayed. I am round at a friend’s house now. Can you come and pick me up?”

After some discussion, she agrees to come for me and I give her the address. Fifteen minutes later, I see our car pull up outside. After saying goodbye to Josh and thanking him for his help, I limp out to the car and we drive to the accident and emergency unit at the local hospital.

We have to sit and wait an hour to be seen. I am then placed in a wheelchair and taken to the X-ray department. The doctors conclude that nothing is broken, but I do have a nasty bruise. I am prescribed some anti-inflammatory tablets and told to take some paracetamol for the pain. I will need to keep my weight off my foot for the next few days. I just need to figure out how to get in and out of school tomorrow without blowing my cover.

We drive home and arrive just after six in the evening. My father sees us pull up and comes out to help me in out of the car. We give him the diagnosis and he is pleased that I’m not badly injured. I spend the evening lying on the couch watching telly with an ice pack on my foot.

At bedtime, my father carries me up the stairs. I am then able to limp to the bathroom and into bed without further assistance.

I have been excused my normal duties and have a lie-in Tuesday morning until half seven. I carefully get out of bed and place my injured foot on the floor. The swelling has gone down, but my foot has now turned a funny colour with all the bruising. It is still sore if I press down on it, but I am now able to walk all right, although I still have a slight limp.

I take a shower and dress in my school uniform, trousers not skirt, and no bra. I’m sitting having breakfast when the phone rings. As my parents are out looking after the animals, I answer the phone.

“Hello, Whittaker farm,” I answer.

“Hi, is that Simon? It’s Josh”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“What’s the prognosis?”

“Badly bruised, but not broken. I can walk now, but I’m limping slightly.”

“I assume your parents are going to run you to school,” Josh states. “I have your things here. How are we going to work this? Presumably you need to sneak in without being seen.”

“I’m going to ask my parents to drop me off by Tesco’s, that way they don’t have to fight through the traffic near the school and it will give me a chance to change before I get in. Can you meet me outside at the entrance?” I ask.

Josh agrees to my plan and we discuss specifics. I hang up the phone as my mother comes in.

“Who was that?” she asks.

“My friend Josh, the boy you met yesterday when you picked me up. I left my bike at his house. He is going to bring it to school. I hope that I will be able to ride it home tonight. I have agreed to meet him at Tesco’s. He needs to stop and buy some lunch and I thought it would be easier for you to drop me there rather than having to go all the way to the school. I wondered if you wanted to do the shopping this morning rather than going out again this afternoon.”

My mother thinks about this for a few minutes. I convince her that I am fine to ride the short distance to school, and can simply coast there without needing to pedal.

When we get to the supermarket, Josh is standing waiting for us near the entrance. After saying goodbye to my mother, we walk towards the cycle racks while she heads inside with a trolley. When I am confident that she is out of sight, I get on my bike and coast out of the car park towards the school.

There is a small piece of woodland belonging to the local wildlife trust between the supermarket and the school. Josh holds my bike while I slip inside. I hide myself from view behind some bushes, change into my skirt, slip on a bra, and fix my hair. I apply my makeup using a small hand mirror. When I return to the road, Josh checks my appearance. Not finding any problems, we proceed to school and arrive in class just before the final bell.

During registration, Mr Francis asks me how my foot is. I notice that Julie is absent and her name hasn’t been called. He disappears a few minutes before the first lesson. I get the impression something is going on, and I suspect it is going to involve me.

We proceed to our first lesson, which happens to be History. A few minutes after the lesson starts, Julie is brought in by the school secretary. As Julie sits down, she looks in my direction and grins menacingly. I have a sinking feeling that my world is about to fall apart.

My suspicions are confirmed when half an hour later the headmaster comes to the door.

“Excuse me, Mrs Brown. I need to borrow Miss Whittaker,” Mr Henry says as he enters the room. “Please would you come with me? Bring your belongings with you as the bell may ring before we are finished.”

I look across to Julie who smiles at me, trying not to laugh, so I give her the evil eye as I pass.

I have the dreaded feeling that my parents are probably waiting for me in the office. I decide I had better find out. “I take it that this is to do with Julie attacking me yesterday.” I get no answer so I try again. “Have you spoken to my parents?” Mr Henry doesn’t respond so I stop walking and cross my arms. When he realises that I am no longer following, he turns to me and angrily tells me to get moving.

“Not until you answer my question,” I state calmly, “I have a good idea of what Julie has accused me of, and if my parents are waiting in your office, then I am in serious physical danger. My father has just been released from jail following a homophobic attack on my brother.”

I have carefully worded my statement so that I haven’t given anything away if my suspicion is false, but at the same time made it clear that I am in trouble if he knows I’m male.

Mr Henry looks at me and finally tells me, “Your parents have not yet been summoned, Simon. I want to hear your explanation before I proceed further. ”

I sigh with relief that my parents aren’t here, but it is obvious my game is up. I resume following Mr Henry to his office.

There are two other people in the office waiting for us to arrive. I am first introduced to an older man with slightly greying hair. Dr Truman is one of the school governors, elected as a prominent member of the community. He is a senior surgeon at the local hospital. I recognise his name as a few years ago he operated on my father when he was having prostrate problems.

The second person is Dr Lambert, a psychologist who teachers our A Level students and acts as the school counsellor. She is dressed in a smart skirted business suit with her hair tied in a bun. I would guess that she is in her forties, but I am not very good at judging ages.

The two guests are sitting at a small coffee table to the side of the office. Mr Henry gestures to the free chair, “You may sit down,” he instructs as he fetches his own chair from behind his desk.

I do as asked, glad not to have to stand, as I don’t think my legs will support me for long.

“First question, you seem to have more than one name, would you prefer to be addressed as Simon, Simone, or Jasmine?” Mr Henry asks.

“Jasmine, sir,” I reply, slightly surprised that he is actually asking that. I assumed that he would automatically call me Simon.

“Jasmine, you have been deliberately misleading people and spreading disinformation. I do not like being deceived or being lied too. Frankly I have enough evidence against you that I could expel you and simply turn you over to your parents to deal with,” he exclaims and I feel my pulse rise. The room starts to spin and go black. The next thing I know I am lying on my back looking at the ceiling.

Mr Henry kneels beside me, watching. “Don’t try to get up,” he softly says, “Stay lying down until you’re fully recovered and the feeling has passed. Don’t rush.”

I close my eyes and take some deep breaths, slowly counting to twenty before opening my eyes and lifting my head. I gradually raise myself into a sitting position. Looking around the room, I see I am sitting in the middle of the office floor. The chair I had been sitting on is lying on its side.

“You had me worried for a moment, Jasmine. I have reduced a number of students to tears before now, but you are the first to actually collapse from the stress,” Mr Henry remarks in a friendly voice.

“Sorry, I’m not sure why that happened,” I say blushing with embarrassment. “It’s not like I didn’t expect to get found out. I’m surprised I’ve managed to survive this long. I know I have been putting myself under a lot of stress, but I thought I could cope. I guess not.”

“Let’s start again,” Mr Henry says, helping me back into the chair.

“Jasmine, I want you to be totally honest with me. I can’t help you if you continue to lie. I am going to ask you a number of questions and I want you to promise to answer them truthfully.”

“I promise, no more lies or half-truths. I will tell you everything,” I answer. Having recovered my composure from my fainting fit, I am now calm, relaxed, and totally at ease with the inevitable, as I explain, “After all, I have nothing left to lose. I am 90% certain that I will be dead by the end of the day and I’m not speaking metaphorically. Please go ahead and ask me anything you like, you need to obtain as much information as necessary for the inevitable coroner’s inquest.”

I smile at the people watching me as its amusing seeing the alarmed look spread across their faces.

“Jasmine, why do you believe you will be dead by the end of the day? Are you planning on taking your own life?” Dr Lambert asks with concern.

“I don’t want to die, but I have in effect already committed suicide, it’s just a case of if it turns out to be fatal,” I reply before clarifying, “There is a time bomb waiting to explode in the form of my parents. My actions have primed the fuse, and my discovery is the spark to light it. I now just have to wait for the explosion. The most likely outcome is that they will kill me. You may be able to protect me from the blast if you believe that I’m in danger. However, my principal aim is to make sure that they don’t walk away unscathed from my murder.”

“I can see why you would be scared of your parents’ reaction,” Dr Lambert states, “but aren’t you overreacting?”

“Fear is irrelevant,” I reply. “It is the emotional reaction to the unknown. I have certainty in the outcome, and I’ve chosen to accept that risk along with the inevitable consequences. I would rather be a delighted pessimist than a disappointed optimist.”

I sit calmly and unemotionally resolved in my determination to achieve my goal or die trying. Nervous glances go back and forth between the assembled professionals. I suspect they are trying to work out my state of mind.

After a pause Mr Henry decides to go ahead and question me, “The birth certificate and identity cards you provided, they are faked?”

“The one from the sports centre is real, although obtained with false information. The rest are fake,” I reply.

“Your legal name is Simon J Whittaker, correct?” Mr Henry enquires.

“Yes,” I declare.

“You are male?” he asks.

“Depends on the context,” I state. Seeing the puzzled expression I elaborate, “I was male at birth, and legally I still am. However, I’m technically a eunuch, which may or may not be a separate physical classification, depending on your definition.”

“Jasmine, when and how did you become a eunuch?” Dr Truman asks.

I serenely state, “Six weeks ago I performed a bilateral orchiectomy and labiaplasty on myself. Using a tranquilizer dart as a local anaesthetic, I cut my scrotum in half and removed both testicles. I applied a hot soldiering iron to cauterize the wounds to stop the worst of the bleeding. I then proceeded to use medical grade superglue to seal any other blood vessels. I folded my penis as flat as possible and shoved it as far inside of me as I could get it, gluing it in place, being very careful not to block the urethra. I then fashioned my scrotal skin into labia to form a vulva. Living on a farm, I have seen castration being performed on livestock, so I knew the basic procedure. The rest I researched on the Internet.”

I smile at the three people who are now looking shocked and horrified. Mr Henry has turned white. “I am well aware that I could have killed myself, which was a risk I was willing to take. I would rather die than go through a male puberty. My father has recently been in jail after attacking my brother because he is gay. If my parents can’t accept one son as homosexual, then the chance of accepting the other as transsexual is nil. I have always known that I’m a girl, and I have been thinking about doing this for years. This wasn’t some rash decision. When they find out what I have done, no matter what they do, they can’t change me back.”

“I would like to examine you, if I may?” Dr Truman asks.

“Sure, no problem,” I happily reply, “I think I did all right, but would like a professional opinion. It was painful and sore for a couple of weeks, but then settled down. I was okay walking and swimming, but running in the beep test in P.E. did cause some bleeding and soreness.”

“Normally we would have to get parental permission to do an examination,” Mr Henry states, “However, I suspect that you would rather not have us ask that question. If you are willing forgo that then I think it may be a good idea. You can nominate somebody as a chaperone instead of your parents if you wish.”

“Dr Lambert, I presume that you are willing to be present as a chaperone, or does it need to be somebody not connected with the school?” I ask. “If an independent witness is required then there are other students who know my secret.”

Josh and Wendy both know the full details. Julie, Alison, Jill and Mary know I have done something, but not the full extent. Mr Henry decides that if I am happy with Dr Lambert, then there is no need for further chaperoning.

I am shown into the first aid room where Dr Truman gives me a thorough examination. After donning gloves, he takes a thin metal spatula and examines my pubic area, moving the skin back to see where I have glued myself together. The doctor then feels round the region with his fingers and asks if I can feel any soreness. During the examination, I explain in as much detail as I can manage the exact procedure I used.

Dr Lambert then asks me a series of questions querying the thought process I used to come to the decision. I answer as best I can, being totally honest in my responses. I get the impression that she is trying to judge my state of mind to see how crazy I am, and if she needs to send for the men in white coats to come and take me away in a straightjacket. While Dr Lambert is talking to me, Dr Truman disappears back through to Mr Henry’s office.

Having completed both the physical and mental examinations we return to the office. I take my seat and I’m offered a cup of tea and a doughnut. While I eat and drink, Dr Lambert and Mr Henry step outside to discuss something in the corridor. There is no need to guess at the subject matter.

Mr Henry and Dr Lambert return to the room, and for my benefit, Mr Henry asks them to give their findings. He instructs them to be honest with me and not to withhold any information. I assume that he is trying to build my trust.

Dr Truman gives his opinion first, “Jasmine has the outward appearance of being female. It is only when you try to do an internal examination does it become obvious something isn’t right. As suspected there is no evidence of any testicles being present. While the area’s still tender, it appears to be healing well, and there is no sign of infection. In fact, I’m impressed at the level of skill and neatness of the operation. It’s been done better than some of my medical students could manage after several months of training.”

Dr Lambert then gives her diagnosis, “Normally it would take many hours of consultation in order to come to any conclusions. However, considering the extraordinary lengths to which Jasmine is going, and her strong beliefs on the subject, my initial diagnosis, pending confirmation by a specialist, is that she is suffering from severe Gender Dysphoria. Despite earlier impressions, I don’t think she is suicidal, and I don’t think that she is likely to do further self-harm having already achieved her aim of castration. I do however have reservations over her mental stability and would like her to receive counselling.”

“Thank you both,” I say in response. “I am glad that my surgery hasn’t been counterproductive. One of the risks was that I did myself irreversible damage that would prevent me from having the remainder of the sex reassignment surgery later. I am also glad to hear that I’m not quite mad enough for the funny farm yet, it was a possible outcome that I have considered.”

Mr Henry ponders the doctors’ statements as we all sit in silence.

“I have made a decision,” the headmaster states. “Jasmine, you have put me in a difficult position. When you came to see me on the first day of school, I suspected that you were lying to me. However, I could see you had gone to a lot of effort to make us believe you were a girl, so I therefore let you attend as Simone until I could do further research.”

He pauses to drink some water before continuing, “At first I thought that we may have made a mistake. The school computer system was corrupted by a virus and we had to hurriedly re-input a number of records over the summer after our backups proved inadequate. I was going to phone your parents to find out what was going on but they were unreachable. It seems that the phone number we have is for a barber’s shop in Aberdeen and your address appears to be a petrol station on the outskirts of Kings Lynn.”

“I swear that has nothing to do with me,” I say with alarm, “If I could have changed the records then I wouldn’t have needed to go through the risk of trying to convince you of an error on the first day.”

Mr Henry nods and says, “I accept that and I’m not suggesting that you had anything to do with it. I know you would have changed the gender flag and given yourself a realistic address rather than a seventy-mile commute. Your record is not the only one affected. It’s the result of a computer virus planted by one of our students. We know who and he’s been arrested by the police.”

I am in enough trouble without being blamed for something that I haven’t done. It’s a pity I didn’t know who did this, as they may have been able to help me. I have at least benefited somewhat from their actions, as it appears to have delayed my discovery and made my ploy more believable.

“I instead contacted your previous school and spoke with your former headmistress,” Mr Henry explains, “Mrs Castle confirmed your details and was surprised to learn you were attending as a girl, as she is aware of the homophobic nature of your parents.”

I sigh with relief. I am scared of being expelled and possibly beaten up by the other students, but it’s my parents who cause the most concern. I have seen their reaction to Mike.

“By the time I had all the evidence and spoken to everybody, you were already in your first P.E. lesson. I was going to pull you out of the class, however by the time I found out where you were the period was almost over and you had already headed back into the changing rooms,” Mr Henry says. “I stood outside the door, and I didn’t hear any screaming, so I decided to wait and talk to Mrs Hargreaves after the lesson. We were both shocked, Mrs Hargreaves couldn’t believe you were male and I was surprised that you were able to walk naked through the changing room without giving yourself away.”

“You let me continue being a girl, even though you knew I was a boy?” I asked surprised at how long it had taken Mr Henry to confront me. “Including letting me continue to use the wrong changing room for a fortnight?”

“Yes, this school doesn’t have a transgender policy so I had to do some research, and this took some time. I also wanted to arrange a time when the two doctors could see you, this meeting was scheduled before the unfortunate incident yesterday,” Mr Henry explains. “I also wanted Mrs Hargreaves to be able to observe your behaviour in the changing rooms and judge how you interacted with the girls. You have already exposed yourself to them and you have seen them naked, so in that sense the harm had already been done, as long as you didn’t try anything further.”

“And if I did, Mrs Hargreaves would be ready to pounce on me,” I add.

“Exactly,” Mr Henry replies. “The only policy documents I could find on dealing with transgender students related to universities, so I am going to base my actions on what I have read. I am going to err on the side of caution and actually give you the full protection of gender law, even though you technically don’t yet qualify.”

Mr Henry continues, “I am hereby formally recognising your status as being transgendered. You have chosen to present yourself as a girl and this school will respect that decision. It would be discriminating for me to ask you to use the male facilities and for the same reason I can’t make you use the disabled ones. I therefore have to provide you with somewhere appropriate to your acquired gender. Considering your physical appearance, I see no reason why you can’t continue to use the girls’ changing room as long as the other girls are satisfied with your behaviour. I am also prohibited from revealing your status to other students and third parties without your consent.”

I sit in stunned silence as I digest what I am being told. Can I really carry on attending school as a girl? There must be a catch. “Thank you, sir, what about my parents? I assume you will need to tell them what I have done.”

Mr Henry replies, “Your parents have a right to know about any issues you face at school, but I also have a duty of care to keep you safe. I recognise that disclosing certain information to your parents could result in you being placed in physical danger. I also have the problem that I don’t have any contact information for them and from your earlier statements I doubt you will be willing to provide it.”

I grin and nod.

“I could probably find out from other sources if I was to ask around, some of the other students must know where you live. However, I’m not going to pursue any further lines of enquiry. It is up to you how you want to handle telling them. Be warned, I am not going to lie to them on your behalf. I suggest you tell them at the earliest opportunity. If you want to do that here on neutral ground, you may do so. You will also be spending the next week in break and lunchtime detention as punishment for your deception.”

“Thank you sir, that is very fair of you. I am very grateful for your help and that you have taken my desires seriously, and I readily accept the punishment,” I humbly reply. “I will try to work out a way of breaking this to my parents, as it’s only a matter of time before they find out. My immediate concern is Julie. You said I could continue to use the girls’ facilities if there aren’t any complaints. She objects to my use of the changing rooms and I suspect her attack was her way of forcing me to reveal myself to my parents. I know she has been spreading rumours about me being a pervert and a lesbian. I caught her off guard. Julie thought I would avoid P.E. with a forged sick note. I believe she hasn’t revealed my secret yet because she fears being ridiculed after everyone saw me naked.”

Mr Henry considers this for a few seconds before responding, “A number of the teachers have noticed the hostility Julie has been showing against you, but didn’t know why. We have also heard the rumours. How do you want to handle this? Are you worried what might happen if the girls find out about your past?”

“I didn’t expect to face this problem,” I state, “I knew my masquerade would eventually fail, I am surprised it went as well as it did. I anticipated several outcomes, most of which involved being beaten to a pulp either by my parents or by other students, or being locked up in jail or the loony bin. I never considered that I would have the ability to carry on once discovered.”

Despite my best efforts, I can’t prevent my eyes from watering. As the tears roll down my face, Mr Henry starts to say something, but I put my hand up and signal him to stop. “I said I would be totally honest. It’s time for my deception to end. That means not only being honest to you, but also to my parents and fellow students.”

Looking across at the clock on the wall, I notice it’s nearly lunchtime. “Would it be possible to assemble all the girls with whom I have to share the facilities? I would like to face them and ask for their permission to continue.”

After discussing exactly what I want to do, Mr Henry agrees and leaves the room to make arrangements. The morning lessons will be ended a few minutes early and the girls will be instructed to come to the drama studio. Dr Truman bids his farewell, as he has to leave for work. Before he goes, he tells me he is going to set up an appointment for me at the hospital. Now that I can’t produce the hormones I require, I will need replacement therapy.