Charlie...3

Charlie…3

Chapter 3

Oh yay they’re still coming over.

I grab my burger again and stuff a lot of it into my mouth. I’m not a pig, but I can be. One of the easiest unladylike things I can do is to take this big ole chomping bite of something I’m eating and be as messy as possible. There’s ketchup on my face and dripping out my burger.

Goth fake lesbian girl looks at me with that trademark been there done that slightly amused expression that she’s likely practiced in her mirror…oh yeah you’re bored, you’re cool. I’m not really liking the piece of T&A look she’s giving me.

Well at least Sweater vest waay-too-gay is looking a bit queasy. They come right up and She’s leaning sort of over the table and kind of flashing me her cleavage. Not that I mind, she’s a pretty girl it’s just she’s fishing in the wrong pond.

“Hey, You’re Charlie right.” she kind of does that trying to sound sultry thing. I nod, blatantly stare at her chest and not her face and offer a greasy ketchupy hand to Sweaters…yeah he just got a nick name. He visibly blanches.

“Yup, I’m Charlie.”

“I’m Yvonne.”

“Okay.”

Sweaters pipes up. “I’m Simon.”

“Uh huh.”

Yvonne looks at me and I look back to her cleavage. Yes I know I’m being an asshole, but I’ve learned the surest way to detract from being the focus of L. attention is to really act like a guy. I notice her posture change and she leans back fro the table and crosses her arms over her breasts. Not getting her way she launches into her spiel.

“Look, Charlie we just came over to let you know that you’re not alone here. That you’ve got people here at school that are going through some of the same things that you are and your experiences and who you are would be a great help to the Student LGBT group.”

“You have any Transgendered people in your group?”

“Umm.”

“That’d be a no.” I hit her with my best…You suck, stop wasting my air look. Goths, they really aren’t used to getting disdain from others especially a little faker like Yvonne. I turn that look on Sweaters. He gets that gay-boy bitchy look.

“Well, you’d be our first. You’re not being real friendly are you.”

“You’re not really being honest are you?” I counter back. “Look thanks but no thanks, I’ve got no desire to be your poster child for look at us we’re politically correct freaks. You don’t really know me or want to really. You just want me there to add to your “look” and so that if people sat shit you can get on your high fucking horses.”

I take a drink and glare. “I don’t want your help, I don’t need your help so just go away.”

Both have this shocked like they’ve been slapped look and Sweaters turns away and girly stomps away with this “Well…I never!” and Yvonne tries to act bitchy cool and glide away non-chalantly but still says. “Bitch.” I smile and take some fries to eat. “That’s exactly my point Yvonne.” She stomps away looking pissed and goes over to their table and there’s a lot of talking and bitching even if I can’t hear what they’re saying they’re sending me dirty looks.

Of course this has a lot of others buzzing and blabbing and I just ignore all of them and eat my lunch.

Libby shoots me glares from where she’s sitting with her little junior prep-squad types.

I eat fast not really caring how it looks and head to the john. I see a teacher move to stop me but he get’s stopped by another one. Stuff’s said he looks like he really doesn’t agree with it and two of the female teachers look like they’re gonna lose it and are getting talked to by the guidance councilor.

I’m followed in by a few guys who make busy but are really here to be the usual idiots. I take a stall and do my thing. I frown, even swear a little as I’m wiping, I hate this. I fucking really hate this.

I get out of the stall and go and wash my hands and they’re looking at me. I look at them sort of sidelong glance like.

“I never wanted this. I didn’t. I’m supposed to be like you guys. I my head I’m like you guys only I got stuck like this. I’m not a fag, I’m not a dyke I’m just seriously fucked up.”

There’s some uncomfortable looks and mutters, some one says “Whatever freak.” I look at him and glare. Then walk out, adjusting my prosthetic me.

I spend the rest of lunch outside walking around and checking the school campus out ignoring the times I’m pointed at or stared at and I check out the escape routes and see at least one redeeming feature of a skate park area just across the street from one of the side parking lots and a bunch of kids there.

I stayed and watched there until it was time to go back to classes. Aside from a few looks and curious stares I’m pretty much blissfully left alone.

I actually like school and my classes for the most part. I don’t have to act like a dumb girl, being blonde’s another thing I had chick issues with. I hated being treated like that as much as being treated like a girl.

Auto-shop actually rocked. There were guys there just more interested in the cars and stuff we were going to be working on than what I was and we were going to have two cars to restore this year both to get auctioned off for charity. It was awkward for like five minutes then it was all car talk and I could suddenly breathe.

The teacher Mr. Stevens is pretty cool and he yelled a lot but that was once we got to cleaning and chopping up, tearing down the first car he was playing rock music in the shop. And he wasn’t the least bit awkward around me.

It made the day suck a whole lot less.

Even Gym class wasn’t that bad. The Coach didn’t seem to care that I’m taking it with the other guys. It was the other guys that had a problem. We ended up playing baseball and the guys keep pushing me, keep trying to out tough me. I get beaned by two pitches that class and I hate walking to a base. So I steal two bases to repay the favor, I even dive front first to make it safely to third base once. Hurt, yeah even with the bra and bandages I still felt it. Honestly I don’t care, I’d be happy if they got ripped off.

I hate the way that I run, I hate it. I hate the swivel my hips have and the way even my skin moves and feels sometimes. Yeah it’s not just breasts and butt that jiggle as a female…there’s that soft skin layer of fat that keeps them soft. I swear, I swear sometimes when my skin does move, feel right I feel slimy under my skin.

It hurts and makes me angry enough that I put all of it into running bases, out doing plays in the outfield or hitting the ball. I’m actually great at baseball really, lot’s of time at the batting cages. I’m even a decent pitcher, dad’s played a lot of catch with me at times. When I was little I was pretty good in little league.

Showering in the coaches office sucked. But showering anytime sucks for me. The rest was just the typical class stuff and getting outside there was of course the lovely I’m going to beat your ass you freak welcoming committee blocking me and my skateboard with their cars.



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