Bad enough I have to write a diary for school. So why did I write another one? To tell the truth …

Stupid Diary, by Karin Bishop

Part 2

December

This is strange to be writing at the end of the month when it’s also the end of the year. I guess that’s something we’ll talk about in class when school starts in January, although we don’t discuss the diaries or journals we write.

There were three weeks of school and I worked hard to get everything finished. I got a good grade on a science project, I know, and it’s the first time I actually worked in a group and we all did well. Nobody ever wanted to be grouped with me before, because I …well, I never did anything. I sat back and sneered at the others because I thought it was ‘cool’–that’s what I’d learned from friends of mine. Well, I’ve been un-learning things and now I think that maybe they just were scared of trying and not doing well, so they wouldn’t try and they’d just ridicule the kids that tried.

Since it’s the end of the year, there’s a lot of re-thinking I’m doing and I think that in just this first semester I’ve kind of turned myself around. I hope so.

*

I’m actually getting some new friends now. That sounds like I’m going out and buying them! I mean, I guess that because I’m a different person now I’m meeting kids like for the first time, and some are becoming friendly. But I’ve been invited to a few kids’ houses, and to the mall, which is a lot more fun than my old friends ever said–they always used to say the mall was for losers. Well, the mall is not for losers, and it’s a lot more fun than my old friends ever were.

*

Still getting along with Mom really well so I don’t think it’s just temporary. We have a pretty solid foundation now, and the Thanksgiving with my grandmother was really special. Just thought I’d throw that in.

*

Also still seeing my therapist, basically because everything’s going so much better and I don’t want to mess things up. She said that maybe we should cut down how often I come, to start ‘weaning’ myself, like I’m a kitten or something! Maybe she’s right, but if it helps, and I like it, there’s no harm in continuing, right?

*

I was really bummed out that I didn’t have any money to get something for Mom. It’s never bothered me in the past, but that was the old me. I talked with my grandmother about it and she offered to give me some money before Christmas. See, she’s just sent money the last few years. I thought it was because it was easier for her, but she finally told me it was because I didn’t seem to have any interests, I wasn’t thankful for anything she’d gotten me in the past, and overall I guess I just wasn’t very nice and she didn’t feel like making an effort to shop for me. So she came up with the idea of giving me this year’s money early, and I’d use it to get things for Mom. Gram told me not to expect any money this year, though, and I said of course not. But I got cash from her in the middle of the month, wrapped up in a card. That way there was no check so Mom wouldn’t know, and I could shop for her right away!

*

I got some nice presents for Mom, some really neat aromatherapy bath salts and a pretty scarf and some other stuff. I also used some of the money for Gram and got her some bath stuff, too, as a special thank you for slipping me my Christmas present earlier! Oh, and for Christmas I got some clothes and some magazines and stuff.

*

It snowed Christmas week–but you know that!–and Mom and I basically stayed at home, avoided the malls except for once, and watched a lot of movies. And eggnog! I discovered I like eggnog!

*

Watched the Dick Clark New Year’s thing with Mom. Even though he’s gone now, Mom said it’ll always be the ‘Dick Clark Rockin’ New Years’s Eve’ thing to her. There were some cool bands I’d never heard of, and she’ll get me some of their CDs if she can. Last year I was out with my old friends and didn’t have a good time. I know the new year is going to be better than last year!

December Truth Time

There’s a real change in me. Not just me, but my whole world. First of all, I’m still getting good grades and I don’t know why that had never been important to me but now it is. The big thing was, well, the school’s big on groups. It’s supposed to ‘prepare us for the workplace’, where everybody works in groups, I guess. Mom doesn’t at the hospital–well, a group of nurses, maybe?–but maybe other places do it.

I used to get put in groups and hear the other kids groan when I was named and I hated them for that. Mackie always said they were losers; they did groups because they couldn’t solve the problem on their own. That made sense to me at the time, so I never ‘contributed’–a big word for teachers. And my groups never did well, and that seemed to prove Mackie was right.

But of course he was wrong; we just never thought that three could solve what two couldn’t, or–and this was the big newsflash for me–it wasn’t the project that we were being taught, it was how to be a group. Come on, how a frog’s leg twitches isn’t that vital (except to the frog!) and can be done with one kid and a gadget. But in a group you have to divide things up and you discover that you’re good at some things and bad at others, and hate some things and like others. And we got a good grade–an A-!

So Mackie was wrong about that, too.

*

Mackie was putting together a new group of his own. I’d withdrawn, of course. From time to time I’d see him or Steve and they’d sneer and call me Larissa but you know what? Mom was right and the word had no power over me anymore. It just reminded me of those special, happy times with my mother so I didn’t even blink when they said it. After the first few times they stopped saying it because they didn’t get any reaction from me, and then they just stopped talking to me.

Steve was missing from school and there was a buzz. Apparently he’d fallen and broken something but the details were murky. Actually, they were wildly varied and almost all wrong. I walked up to Mackie to get his version, and then Mom checked at her hospital, and the truth was that Steve and ‘unknown other individuals’ (meaning Mackie) had been attempting to break into a video game store by going through a skylight. It was an older renovated building; I knew it well and had spent a lot of lost time there with Mackie and Steve.

So they were on the roof, not knowing about motion sensor alarms. They saw the cop lights coming and Steve panicked and fell through the skylight into the store! Mackie couldn’t help him–or was chicken–and got off the roof in the back and ran away. The lights came on automatically when Steve’s ‘motion’ was detected (falling through the roof onto display racks will do that) and the cops saw it through the front window, which I guess gave Mackie time to get away.

Steve was pretty badly messed up, Mom said, with a broken arm and leg and the other ankle, crushed ribs and some internal injuries. And a whiplash sort of neck injury. Meaning that he was pretty much out of the picture for the rest of the school year.

Which left Mackie to get new followers, because that’s what I realized we were, Steve and me–just followers to Mackie. I’d thought we were three buddies, equals, through thick and thin and all that, but I saw that he was a strong-willed guy able to get weak-willed guys to follow him. And of course, robbing the video store was his idea; Steve couldn’t even spell ’video store’.

All of which made me ashamed that I’d ever hung out with them, but I had to watch with some sick fascination as Mackie cruised the halls of school and the comic book and video stores, like an evil magnet, trying to attract any weaklings. Maybe it was because I was proud of my new Science grade that I was thinking about magnets, but it seemed to make sense.

*

There also seemed to be some magnetism with me and Celia–or Celia and I, maybe, now that I’m concerned about doing better in English?–but not the way people usually mean. There wasn’t a speck of romantic attraction for me with her, and I was pretty sure it was the same for her. We’d agreed to be friends, and we are friends, and getting to be good ones, too, I think. Real ones, not like Mackie and Steve.

The magnetism analogy–another English word!–makes sense, too, because we’re always coming up to each other to tell things to one another, like Steve got hurt or there’s a hard test in Math or did I know that Jeremy and Tricia are going steady? It was new, it was fun, and I always felt a warm happiness sharing things with her. I went over to her house a lot, now, and met her mom. Her mom gave me a funny look the first time we met, and I think it was because she thought I might be boyfriend material until she met me. But she saw how we got along and was pretty neat.

Through Celia I got to know some other kids, too. I’d already gotten friendly with Molly Chen in my Science group. She’d glared at me when I was named to the group because she knew I never did anything, but I convinced her that was the old me, and after we got our A- she said she liked the new me. We’d walk the halls and chat about things sometimes. And then Celia saw me one day and waved me over. There were two other girls: Monica, that we call Mon, and is a giggly red-head; and Heather C–we call her that to distinguish between her and the cheerleader Heather. Well, we drop the ‘C’ and just call her Heather, who is gorgeous with straight black hair and creamy white skin. I thought that I could cleanse and moisturize until I was a hundred and never have skin as clear as hers. I should mention, too, that Celia is gorgeous, too, with wavy dark brown hair with red highlights and green eyes.

I never wrote what she looks like before. Weird.

Anyway, they were all excited about the Winter Ball and there was this awkward moment on Heather and Monica’s faces when Celia pulled me in but she confirmed that I wasn’t going–she knew this but wanted the others to know–and then asked about a couple of boys that were slow to ask. For some reason, Monica hadn’t been asked yet and was getting nervous.

I put Mon at ease by telling her the truth, that Rick Fairchild wanted to ask her out but wasn’t sure she’d say yes. I told them that guys would rather not ask at all, than risk rejection. She wanted Rick to ask her and asked us about him and we all said, yeah, he’s great, so I said I’d see what I could do. I don’t really know the guy, but if it’ll help Mon, I’ll try to find a way. And I complimented her on her cute outfit. That earned me another awkward silence and then Celia took control and asked if I wanted to come with her and pick out dresses? She was going to the Ball with Stan (The Man) Reasoner, a football star, and I said sure so we set a time after school that Wednesday.

*

Wednesday I went to the mall with Celia and her mother; we met Monica there. She was buzzing because Rick Fairchild had just asked her out and I got a hug from her. She pulled away and looked a little weird, but something on Celia’s face made her relax.

We had a great time and for some reason it didn’t bother me to go into the teen girls’ stores and boutiques. I guess it was because I’ve been learning that girls are people, and girls like Celia are darned fine people, too. Her mom took my presence in stride, but at one point she sat outside because her feet were tired and I thought it’d be nice to give her company so I joined her.

She leaned over and said, “So …you’re gay, right?”

Nobody had ever asked that and it had never come up, so I was stuck for an answer. She went on to say it was okay, of course and she could see that I was a genuine good friend to her daughter Celia. All I could say, finally, was, “I don’t know what I am” and it was true, and that was a shock to me!

After that, Celia pulled me aside to ask what was wrong and I told her that something was on my mind that I’d tell her about later but everything was fine between us. Monica came up and suggested the piercing place next, because it had all sorts of jewelry and also scarves and things. We went and I was asked my opinion about things. As the girls burrowed in and sorted through the sparklies, I looked around and realized I was the only boy in there. It didn’t bother me like it might. I guess that’s growing up.

*

At home that night I told Mom what Celia’s mom had asked and we talked about homosexuality and all sorts of other things and it became obvious that there are way more variations than just gay or straight, male or female. It gave me something to think about and talk about with Ms. Belasco. We talked for a long time and then I guess she put me under because there was that refreshed and happy feeling at the end of the session.

*

I called my grandmother out of the blue to talk, something I’d never done, and she said she was so proud of the way I was developing and I was happy for that. We got to talking about this and that and I mentioned being bummed out that I didn’t have a job, so I didn’t have money, so I couldn’t get something nice for Mom. Gram came up with this cool scheme where she gave me my Christmas present early–it had been money the last few years–so I had cash to spend on Mom! She chuckled and said to not expect any more cash for Christmas and I said that was fine for me. I got to shop for Mom, and also got something for Gram and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually gotten her something! Shame on me!

*

Celia called me after Winter Ball. The day before, she told me she wouldn’t be able to hang out with me because she’d have to spend the whole day getting ready …salon, nails, the works. The girls were making a group thing of it, and it sounded like fun and I said so. Celia gave me a funny look when I said that and I stammered something and she squeezed my arm and said she’d call me after she got home from the Ball.

She did, about 11:30; I’d cleared it with Mom. I lay in my bed, the phone cradled on my shoulder and pillow, and we talked for almost an hour. She gave me a full account of the day at the salon, what she had done, some funny things when the girls were getting ready–including cheap hairpiece follies!–and then told me about the night.

I was so glad to hear that Monica had a good time and Rick seemed a perfect gentleman, as did Stan the Man–and we giggled because even Celia thinks of him as Stan the Man! And she told me about seeing Monica get a goodnight kiss from Rick, and the smile on her face, and then told me about her goodnight kiss and I got all warm and even gasped a little. She said she hated the night to end, but talking with me made it better and we said goodnight.

That night I had a strange dream. I guess it made sense that it arrived when it did, but I was being escorted to a limo, holding the hand of a cute guy. My other hand held up the skirt of my gown, and I caught a glimpse of a pretty face in the limo’s windows. It was curls and shiny lipstick and sparkly eyeshadow, and it was me.

*

Got some aromatherapy bath salts for Mom and Gram, and some cheap jewelry and a nice scarf from Claire’s, and I made a really pretty card for her and for Gram so it felt like a really great Christmas! When the real Christmas rolled around, you should have seen Mom’s face light up! It was so worth it. And I got some presents, too, including matching scarf and mittens set, a neat woolen knitted cap, and a dazzling assortment of nightgowns! Mom said since I was into the names of things, I learned the difference between a sleep shirt and a chemise and a nightgown and baby dolls, because I got one of each. I blushed at the baby dolls, but Mom smiled and said they were for extra special occasions, and I said that Christmas night was an extra special occasion!

Believe it or not, they weren’t my first choice, because Gram played a language trick on me. She said to not expect any more money, and she was true to her word–but she’d never said anything about presents! She gave me a variety pack of sweet-smelling soaps …and the blue nightgown with the ducks! Mom’s nightie! So that was my first choice to wear, but I wanted to keep it as a memento and not wear it. Mom said she understood and reached out and stroked my hair.

*

Speaking of hair, I’ve been taking really good care of it but it’s still growing so Mom took me to a salon that Ms. Belasco recommended. She said they’d know what to do with the hair of ‘boys like me’ so I guess that meant boys with really long hair. The stylist was named Lucy and was very sweet, even when she playfully scolded me for so many split-ends. When she was done my hair was still long but looked neater loose or in a boy’s ponytail, like I kept it in school.

*

So Christmas night, I wore the baby dolls and a new chenille robe of my very own, and we curled up with eggnog and watched It’s A Wonderful Life for like the 47th time but I was bawling my eyes out at the end and Mom hugged me and rocked back and forth. It was a lovely Christmas moment.

*

About the nightgowns: When we’d come back from Gram’s at Thanksgiving, I’d told Mom that I wanted maybe a sleep shirt and she got me one, a soft gray one with a v-neck. It was really just an oversized t-shirt but I loved it and that’s what I slept in for the few weeks before Christmas, even after Mom pointed out that a lot of kids, boys and girls, sleep in boxers and a t-shirt, but it just didn’t feel like I wanted to. I just liked the sleep shirt.

The only thing was, sitting on the couch in the baby doll set, I looked at my legs and saw they were just a little scruffy. Mom said they looked fine but I could remove the hair if I wanted to. I said I didn’t want to shave my legs–it just seemed weird, somehow–but she had a bottle of stuff that would remove the hair, and said that Olympic swimmers and bicyclists used it. So the night after the day after Christmas, I took a bath and then a shower and used the stuff that she’d mentioned and my legs felt wonderful and looked so pretty with my nightgown. I used some under my arms, too, even though there wasn’t really anything under there. But it was all part of feeling clean.

*

Oh, and I got some new CDs from Mom with the new music that I’d learned about and they’re really great to sleep to! And I found some even newer bands on New Year’s Eve with the Dick Clark special, and she said she’d try to get those, too. We even danced a little to the music on the TV and then flopped on the couch, laughing, and did hot buttered rum but without the rum for me, darn it!

January

Back to school was the best I remember because I’d gotten good grades last semester and had new friends, too. In Science I got grouped with some kids and they didn’t put up any fuss about having me. In fact, I got invited to a birthday party at the Roller-Rama. The party was lots of fun although there was some hassle when one of my old friends tried to get in but couldn’t. But all in all we had a good time.

*

January is kind of a dead month for everything from TV schedules to trees, so it was a good time to dig into the new semester and get ahead in my schoolwork. One of my teachers said that at the rate I’m going, I might be eligible for the Honors program next year!

*

I hung with my new friends on weekends and that’s about it. Oh, and our school won the basketball championship, but then, you knew that, Mrs. McKenzie!

January Truth Time

There is definitely something going on with me. I’m eating healthy and doing exercises at home and I’m still kind of …well, not pudgy but just soft. Even though I feel like I’m growing up, I look even younger, if that’s possible. Mom said we’d see a new doctor later this month.

*

It was great starting school again. I found that my friends hadn’t forgotten me over the holidays. Oh, I knew Celia was still my friend. She’d called me the night of the Winter Ball and told me all about it, what she and the other girls had worn, what the boys were like, especially Stan the Man and Rick. But Heather C and Monica walked with me, too, and a couple of times we even had lunch together!

In Science Molly Chen asked to be in my group, which was really wonderful of her since she’d hated the thought at the start of the school year. And Molly had no problem walking with me in the halls without anybody staring or saying anything and I realized it was because she was kind of invisible. I’d been invisible before I started hanging out with Mackie so I knew something about it, and now that I was a ‘good kid’, I guess I was kind of invisible, too. Molly and I got in the habit of having lunch together.

*

Molly invited me to her birthday party at the Roller-Rama and it was, well, kind of sparsely attended. There were a lot of Chen cousins and other Asian families there, but I think they knew her parents and not Molly so much. There were five of us from school, counting me, and all girls, but I didn’t mind, not even when I got white skates from the rental guy. It just didn’t matter, you know? We all skated and laughed and fell down and laughed and had a great time–

Until Mackie tried to crash the place. It turned out that he didn’t know what was going on or who was in there. It wasn’t like he wanted to be part of Molly’s party; he just wanted to mess things up for whoever was having a good time. We were at the tables, laughing over cake, when we heard some shouts and then some scuffling and looked to the front door to see Mackie being shoved out by a burly Security guy. Mackie was shouting curses and about ‘It’s a free country, fucker!’ and all that and somehow he saw me, all the way through the length of the rink. He pointed at me and shouted, ‘Hey! You let faggots in here!’ and about then the Security guy had another guy with him and they threw Mackie out and the cops had already been called.

Nobody said anything about it; I truly don’t think they connected Mackie’s shout to me–but Molly did. She reached out and squeezed my hand and said softly so only I could hear, “It’s okay, Larry.”

*

Here’s the weird thing. I was on the very edge of telling Molly, “My name’s Larissa” but I pulled back, and at first I thought it was because I didn’t want to be found out. About, well, how soft I’m getting. But at home that night, talking with Mom, I realized that it was also because it was Molly’s party and the day was supposed to be about Molly, not about me. Mom pointed out that maybe my friendship with Celia also kept me from saying it, since if anybody outside of Mom and Gram was going to be allowed to call me Larissa, it would be Celia.

*

I lay in bed that night wondering what was happening. All along I’d been talking about being ‘soft’, of getting ‘soft’–in fact, just before I split with Mackie and Steve, they’d said I was getting ‘soft’, but they meant not hard and brutal like they were. So it came to me that I wasn’t becoming soft …well, yeah, my skin was soft and young like I’d said, but I was becoming feminine. Or maybe I was discovering that I was feminine all along and had been trying to hide it under an outer layer of toughness?

I got out of bed, the hem of my pretty nightie dropping around my knees, and went to find Mom. She was at her desk, doing bills, and I asked her point-blank, “Mom, I think I’m becoming feminine. Are you going to be mad at me?” and she smiled–I think with tears–and reached out to hug me and stroke my hair as she told me she loved me no matter what. We went to the couch and held hands and talked. It was funny, but part of the time we’re having this heavy discussion, I was looking at my fingernails wondering how they’d look with nail polish!

Mom said that she’d noticed a change in the last few months and we both agreed it was definitely for the better, and she asked me would being feminine be a bad thing? I said if I was a boy, sure, but if I was a girl–I meant deep down–then it would be no problem. She said that there were very feminine boys, and I’d seen a few on TV and once at the mall, but it seemed to me to be only a halfway solution, at least for me. Maybe it was fine for them, but as much as they swung their hips or bent their wrists or put on eyeliner, it was a very different feeling from sitting on the couch with my mother, crying at movies while I’m wearing a nightgown.

We agreed on that point, and Mom said would it be so terrible if I was feminine? Even, if I was a girl? I started to say I wasn’t so it made as much sense as saying ‘What if I was an Eskimo?’ but I didn’t say that; instead, I had to admit that, no, my best and truest friends were girls, and there was very little difference in doing things that boys did or girls did, like rock climbing or being astronauts or whatever, out in the world. It was how they related to the world that was different, and between what I knew about boys–besides Mackie and Steve, and even nice guys like Rick and Stan–and what I now knew and was learning about girls, I preferred the way girls related to the world, hands down. It was the way I related to the world.

Mom nodded and smiled and said she’d have to agree, but then, she was a girl. “But would it be so awful, sweetheart,” she asked softly, “to be my daughter?”

And I had to say no, of course not but inside my heart leapt and that was strange. I said, “Mom, you know, there’s an awful lot of similarity between boys and girls, because they’re just people. I mean, duh, but they both eat, sleep, go to the bathroom, go to school, love their parents, have friends, whatever …it’s just the kind of things they do differently.”

She didn’t know what I meant, so I said, “Like clothes and stuff. Like …” I decided to go with my feelings. “Like I’ve been sitting here while we were holding hands and I wondered how my fingers would look with nail polish, and I know that that’s a girl thought, not a boy thought.”

She nodded and said that was true but left the thought hanging.

I said, “I think the way I think about things is kind of like a girl already. I mean, I don’t know exactly what it’s like inside Celia’s head.”

“Nobody ever knows, despite what people will tell you,” she reassured. “You have to compare with what they seem to be feeling and saying. That’s kind of how you pick your friends, too, boys or girls.”

It was my turn to nod. “Uh-huh. And Celia and I seem to think the same. Molly Chen, too; I mean, Molly and I think alike. And the guys at school …I just don’t get. Yeah, I’m totally over Mackie and guys like that, but good guys, like Rick Fairchild, Stan the Man, Drew Peterson, they’re just regular, good guys, you know?”

“Not your friends, though?”

“That’s just it. They’re friendly, because they’re good guys, but I just don’t get them. They say things and do things and I think, I’d never say or do that or think to do it. Like with my cousins. Danny’s a bit of a dip but Tommy’s sort of okay, but it’s not just ESPN …I just can’t relate to them on any level.” I thought back to Thanksgiving and frowned. “Not on any level.”

Mom nodded slowly and asked, “Is there anybody you do relate to?”

“You know the answer already. I relate to you, to Gram, to Celia and Molly and Heather and Mon …” I trailed off, thinking about who I talked to in the halls, outside of having to talk to someone in class. “And they’re all pretty close, but I also chat with …let’s see …Bonnie and Mary Rodgers and Felicity and Melanie and Nicole …”

Mom nodded. “Do you notice a pattern?”

“Geez, Mom, of course I do! But it’s weird, don’t you think? I’ve gone from zero friends to a dozen or more, but they’re all girls.”

“And?”

She wasn’t making it easy. “And …” I continued. “And all of that is in spite of being a boy. Being Larry. But if I was Larissa …”

I trailed off, because I was stunned. I’d never put it in words before, and it was a staggering thought. Why had I never thought this before–it was so obvious!

“If I was Larissa, it would all make sense. All of my friends …and how I feel about them …” I blushed. “And how I feel about boys …” My blush deepened. “As people, I mean …” I shut up before I got in any deeper.

Mom didn’t say anything for a long time. Then she took a deep sigh. “So what do you want to do about it?”

I was feeling my way, slowly, in uncharted territory. “Mom, would you think I was weird if I …kind of explored being more Larissa? I fell in love with sleeping in a nightie, but maybe it’s more than that. Maybe, try …I don’t know …after school some time …” I choked.

“Would you like to dress like Larissa would dress, but not just at bedtime?” she said gently.

“Yes, Mother,” I said softly. I could feel and hear my heart beating.

*

The last week in January, I told Celia about Larissa. It was kind of funny; I planned it and almost rehearsed what I was going to say, how I’d counter her arguments, all of that. We’d be at her house and I’d sit her down and tell her. And of course, I chickened out. It was just another night where we watched a DVD with her folks.

The next day we were at the mall, just cruising like we always did, with smoothies, and she saw a really pretty dress, strapless, in teal and I told her it would look killer on her. She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. And I somehow knew, instantly, that her raised eyebrow meant, ‘And what about you, Larry?’ and I sipped my smoothie and just said, “Did you know that Mom calls me Larissa?”

Celia tilted her head but said nothing, so I went on, telling her about Mackie and Steve–and she certainly knew what kind of guys they were–and Mom saying we could defuse the hurt by getting used to it. But now it was almost a badge of honor, and I told her about Gram, but not about the nightgowns. I was getting nervous because she hadn’t said anything, and I wound down with, “I guess …in a way I’m kind of more girl than boy.” And gulped.

To my complete amazement, she not only accepted it; she thought it was already a done deal. “Why should I be surprised?” she said with a shrug. “I relate to you as a girl, and I mean this in the nicest way possible–you’re more girl than boy. So, do you wear dresses at home or something?”

I had to admit that no, I didn’t, but Mom and I had sort of discussed it. But so far …no. I relented and told her about having to wear a nightgown at Thanksgiving, and kind of liking it, and that Mom had gotten me some for Christmas. She nodded and said she loved nighties in winter, but slept in shorts and a tee for summer.

So we walked some more and nothing was said about it. I realized I’d left something out, so when it seemed the right time, I said quietly, “When we’re alone, you can call me Larissa, if you want. I’d like that.”

Celia smiled and said, “Thanks, and I know how much it means to you so I’m honored. But …”

“But?” I worried.

“But I can’t wait until I can call you Larissa all the time!”

*

Of course, after that day at the mall when I told Celia about Larissa, Mom and I had a long talk. We even scheduled it, and after dinner I cleared the table and was going to go to the couch like we usually did but Mom called me back to the table, which is where we always conducted business like school documents and stuff. She had placed a stack of things next to her place, and I was unaware of what was going on.

Mom sat with her hands folded. “I know we’ve always discussed things comfortably on the couch, but since we’re going to be talking about something that will affect both our lives …and finances …I thought we’d be better off being serious here at the table.”

I was a little freaked and told her but she reassured me so I sat there wondering what was coming next.

Mom sifted through the papers and pulled one out and checked it, then placed it in front of her. “I’ve been doing some research, both popular media and medical journals, so I’ve got a procedure I’m supposed to follow …more or less. A protocol. Some of the questions we both know the answer to, I think, but bear with me and answer everything like we haven’t talked before, okay? Oh …do you want me to call you Larry or Larissa?”

“Maybe …when we talk about then we say Larry and when we talk about now we say Larissa?”

Mom smiled, nodded, said she agreed and started by asking did I feel like I was a boy or a girl. I said I used to feel like an inadequate boy and overcompensated, but never really felt like I was a boy. It wasn’t that I preferred pink and kittens, I just hadn’t thought about it because I was struggling so hard to be ‘boyish’. But lately, however it happened, I’d realized that, in truth, my thoughts and feelings were girlish. Because, I said, nobody ever really knows what it’s like to be another person. But I’d have to say that I was feeling more and more like a girl every day.

Mom made notes while she nodded at my response and asked the Big One. Did I want to live as a boy or live as a girl? In other words, if I could be ‘cured’ one way or another, if I could take a single pill to change forever, or wave a magic wand …did I want the rest of my life to be male or female?

That rocked me because I hadn’t really thought about the rest of my life, since every day was kind of a new adventure. I told her that, and in saying it out loud, it became clearer to me. “I haven’t thought about, you know, the future like specifically where I would be five years, ten years, twenty years down the line …but only …like getting through day-to-day, you know? But even day-to-day …I want to be a girl. I know that I want to be a girl. I want to live as a girl, go to school as a girl. And I think …no, Mom, I know: I want to grow up to be a woman. I want to live every day of my life as a girl and woman and I hope I can be as great a woman as my mother is.”

She corrected my grammar to hide her pride. I could see the tears in her eyes as she made notes. She pursed her lips and muttered, “No buttering up the interviewer,” and we both chuckled. Then she asked if I was prepared for insults, humiliation, embarrassment, and even possible danger to achieve my goal. I said I was. She looked me in the eyes and said, “And what about your penis?”

Another rocked moment, because I hadn’t thought about that, either, until this moment. So I told her I was more or less thinking out loud and said that I’d never thought of it as anything other than to pee through. I knew how boys talked about their penises–God knows Mackie and Steve were always bragging about how big they were or how hard they got–and I hadn’t really experienced the hardness they always talked about so I really didn’t know–

Mom stopped me. “Wait, wait–Are you telling me you haven’t experienced erections? None? What about in the morning?”

I admitted that sometimes it felt kind of ‘stuffy’, but wasn’t hard; I just had to pee and then the stuffiness went away. She looked at me for a moment. Made a note, looked at me and frowned, and then told me that she wished she’d known this before, both as a mother and a nurse, so I could have been checked by doctors.

I pointed out that maybe it wouldn’t have mattered because my mind hadn’t caught up enough; I admitted that I’d been pretty immature until recently. Mom smiled and patted my hand and told me how proud she was of me.

Mom then showed me printout from medical sites and we discussed surgery to remove my penis. I asked if she thought it was a little too soon to discuss but she said that maybe we shouldn’t start down a road if we didn’t like where the road might lead–where it might end. I thought about it and she was right, and I thought about being a girl like Celia, going to school and shopping and wearing dresses to Winter Ball and that was fun and a lot of giggles, but that was external, in a way. And I knew that being a girl wasn’t all fun mall trips, and there were some very rough things about being a girl, but there were rough things about being a boy, too.

The main thing wasn’t getting to wear a dress, it was about how I felt inside, how I felt about myself and others, and how I related to the world. And I already knew that I related like my girlfriends did; I related as a girl. And there wasn’t any comparison about how I’d felt as a boy, and how I felt being with my girlfriends and the joy of being myself and …and I told Mom that removing the penis was not the end of my road; it was the end of my detour–

As soon as the words came out, two things happened to me at once. First, I was shocked that I’d said it, and second, I was shocked that it was true. It was absolutely the way I felt. And my fuzzy, un-thought-of future suddenly started coming into focus.

She stared at me for a moment while I felt a thrill go through me. Was I really thinking about ‘chopping it off’? Yes, I realized with a start and a curious feeling of a decision made–or had already been made but I’d just realized it.

I told Mom, “It’s like climbing up a hill and you don’t know what’s up top until you get there and stand up and look out over the valley. At first all you know, all you can see, is the climb, the rocks and trees and dirt around you. Your feet plodding in front of you. And you don’t really know exactly where the trail is leading you …and then suddenly you know because you’re made it and the view is incredible and you’re there and …” I was out of breath.

Mom continued staring, then frowned and asked, “Are you sure this isn’t a reaction to something? Like, falling out with your friends?”

I assured her that it wasn’t a falling out, they weren’t friends, and I was better off. Not only was I growing up, I was growing in a different direction. “And, Mom, I think they’re linked. I think I’m doing better in school, having friends, and closer to you, and just all-around happier because of that direction. It’s the road you talked about, to girlhood. I mean, a real girlhood. My girlhood.”

*

Well, it was certainly a weird turn of events. A few months ago I was on my way to becoming a juvenile delinquent–heck, I already was a delinquent. I was a lousy student and not a very good son …or a human being. Now I felt good about myself, and I was a caring, happy, productive person. People liked me and I felt like there was a future for me. I didn’t know what, exactly, but it still felt like a fresh morning, kind of. I was a very good student, and getting better; I was very close to my mother and grandmother–really my only family now–and there was only this teeny, tiny detail between my legs …I didn’t feel like a boy and wanted to be a girl.

Because now I knew why Mom did our talk at the table; it was serious stuff and I considered everything more carefully than I would have from the comfort of the couch. And I’d thought about things I’d never thought about before, and came to decisions that had to be made and that I felt good about.

And where to go from here?

*

In the pile of materials, Mom had several screen dumps from teen girls’ clothing sites. We flipped through them, eliminating Goth and punk and retro and basically settled that I’d be like my girlfriends, a Hollister/American Eagle/Abercrombie type of girl. I kind of knew that already, but it settled Mom’s mind and she approved.

Next we talked about medical testing and I said yes and she had connections at her hospital, of course, and would ‘start the ball rolling’ the next day.

Finally we talked about school, and we both agreed that the best course would be to finish out the school year as Larry–although it might get harder for me–and with the doctors’ approval, try full-time living as Larissa once school let out. In the meantime, she said she expected her daughter to be present after school, all weekends and holidays, and if it looked like Larry was making a reappearance–except at school, of course–she’d ‘put the brakes on’ the whole thing. She said her research had said it was vital that I commit to being a girl, to being Larissa; half-and-half wouldn’t prove anything or help me. It was a major decision, but I agreed and felt another weight lifting from me.

She said she’d trust my instincts about who to tell; Celia and Molly, of course, I thought, and began running a list of my friends’ names–we both laughed again that they were all girls–and then Mom asked me what I’d do when Mackie found out. I said I hoped I’d be as strong as Celia had been when she faced him down, and Mom nodded, smiling, but said to watch out for him because he was mean. I knew that would be something I’d have to deal with later.

*

The school’s championship basketball game was a huge event for the community, and everybody was there cheering the team on. I sat with Celia and Heather and Monica and even dragged Molly Chen along with me, sitting on the other side of me because she didn’t feel a part of the others. I did a dirty trick that I hoped would pay off. When I left to go to the boys’ rest room–something I disliked in part because it was already feeling alien to me and kind of distasteful–I waited and watched the stands from a distance and sure enough, Celia had roped Molly into their conversation and when I saw Molly laugh I knew everything was cool. When I came back, I made a point of sitting next to Mon and asked her how things were with her and Rick. I already knew they were doing great as a couple–and Rick scored a basket just then so we all whooped–and I winked at Molly and she gave me a little smile because she knew what I’d done, and mouthed ‘thank you’ and I smiled back. It was a great night, and not just because we won the state championship!

End of Part 2