We sat on the park bench by the lake and held hands.

It was nice there, the spring flowers were out and the place was a riot of colour. I was wearing a dress, a summer dress, as it was quite warm and I liked the way it felt. Jeff was wearing a t-shirt and long baggy shorts that suited his laid back attitude.

As a matter of interest, he had nice legs.

Jeff was my first boy friend. I wasn’t like other girls and hadn’t had a load of boyfriends. I was fourteen and so was Jeff, a bit young for going out, but as far as it goes, it was all pretty innocent. He was a bit of a shy one and I knew that it took all his courage to ask me out on a date. We had that date just the night before when we went to the cinema and watched a chick flick.

Somehow we really clicked and when the main characters best friend was killed in a car accident and I started crying, he put his arm around me and made me feel better. It was almost without thought that we started kissing in the dark, and the rest, as they say, was history.

His mum had dropped us off at the cinema and we were to be picked up by my mum after the film, but we did have time to have a burger in Mackey D’s first. It was nice that Jeff offered to pay, but I had insisted that we go halves and that’s what we did.

So we sat there holding hands and eating our burgers with our free ones and it was nice.

All the time though I was worried that it wouldn’t last though. You see, officially I’m a boy.

When I was little I didn’t fit in and I always thought that I was a girl. Going to play school and then nursery, apart from a couple of nice quiet boys, I always played with the girls and got changed into the girls’ clothes from the dressing up box as soon as I arrived. I insisted that I was Sarah and not Adam and wouldn’t answer to any other name. The other kids, not being judgmental at that age, thought nothing of it, although the adults weren’t as laid back about my dressing up and what I called myself.

My parents didn’t mind about all of this and thought that it was just a stage that I was going through. Only it wasn’t.

Eventually, after going into infant’s school, I was very unhappy; as I could no longer be the girl I wanted to be. At home I was allowed within reason to still dress as a girl and things went on that was until I went to junior school.

Mum and Dad made the decision that I had to stop being a girl and they made me give up my clothes. I know that they were trying to help me, realising as they did that it just wasn’t considered normal behaviour for a boy to wear girls’ clothes.

I just don’t think that they got it. I wasn’t a boy in my eyes; I was a girl.

Years passed and I had little opportunity to be the girl I knew I was. In the end I became quiet and introspective and by the time I was in senior school I was very unhappy.

Over the years I had tried on several occasions to explain to my parents what was wrong, but they said that it something that I would grow out of and I would thank them one day for there insistence that I should forget about that girl nonsense.

I don’t think that I can explain very clearly what triggered it. I was in a mixed school and therefore in close proximity to about five hundred girls. The girls’ uniform was essentially a white blouse and tie and a grey skirt. The jacket was the same as the boys, but the buttons did up the other way. The boys wore the jacket, white shirt, school tie and grey trousers.

I desperately wanted to wear the girls’ uniform, not because I was kinky or anything, but because that was what the girls wore and as far as I was concerned, I was a girl.

There was a strict uniform policy unlike others in the neighbourhood. Girls skirt had to be knee length and there were no exceptions, some girls tried to hitch their skirts up higher, but few got away with it on school premises. I would have worn the skirt at any length, because that would confirm that I was a girl and not a stupid oaf of a boy.

Being confronted with the sight of all those girls every day made me sad and then depressed, like a child who goes through a sweet shop and isn’t able to have any.

In the end I was in a very dark space in my head and I had a mad idea. I had a free period once a week, where you were supposed to do revision, but no one ever did. Normally I just went off by myself and read a book somewhere in the grounds whilst others messed about or played games.

I planned it with a precision that makes me go cold thinking about it now. As soon as the bell went, I waited while everyone went off to classes or to do something with their free period.

When all was quiet, I made my way to the girls’ games changing room. I knew that they were out playing games somewhere and I had a free run.

I already had some panties on that I managed to “acquire” from next doors washing line a few weeks before. They fitted me, as the girl next door Melanie was about my size.

Anyway, I grabbed some clothes from one of the pegs in the changing room that looked like my size and found some shoes that fit me. Cramming them in my bag, I ran out without being seen and then went to a quiet place where I usually went in break time for a bit of privacy.

The nearest people were some way off and out of sight, so I went behind a bush, took off my boys’ uniform and put on the girls one. I immediately felt right. I was now wearing the clothes I should have been allowed to wear in the first place, as I was a girl and not a horrible boy.

Neatly folding my boys clothes, I placed them on the ground next to me and then turned to my bag. Inside was an envelope and I put it on top of the boys’ clothes.

I was going to burn the boys clothes as a final gesture that I wasn’t one, but realized that the smoke might draw attention to me when I needed privacy.

I sat there for a few minutes. It was strange, now that I had made my decision; I was calm and not at all worried.

I should have felt concerned about my parents, but they wanted a boy, not a girl and I just couldn’t be one. I had tried that and had failed miserably.

Almost in a dream, I pulled out the bottle of water and the sleeping pills that I had taken from the bathroom cabinet that morning. There were fifteen tablets in there, more than enough for my needs and one after the other I took them.

I sat there for a while longer feeling calm and peaceful. Looking at the uniform with the skirt gently moving against my bare legs in the gentle breeze, I at last felt happy and complete.

Without realising it, I fell asleep…

I awoke coughing and spluttering. My throat was sore, I had a pounding headache and it was obvious I was in hospital.

I cried. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was to fall asleep and then all my pain would be gone.

‘Honey, how are you?’

It was my mum and I could see through my tears that Dad was there too.

They were ushered out of the way by a nurse and doctor who examined me and asked me several questions that to this day, I can’t remember what they were and what answers I gave.

Eventually my parents were allowed back at my bedside. I could see that they had both been crying. Well I wanted to cry too, as I was still there and not where I wanted to be, endlessly asleep.

There were questions, lots of questions like why did I do it? I should have talked to them. They must have forgotten that I had talked to them and they had paid no attention to me.

Evidently, I had thrown up after taking the pills and that probably save my life. I had been found by a prefect with the empty bottle beside me and an ambulance had been called. The horrible sore throat was caused by the use of a stomach pump and the headache was a side effect of the pills.

I know now that I was selfish and self-centered. I didn’t think about others and I should have been more aware about what my actions could do to other people that I loved and cared for. But I was, as I said before, in a dark place where my actions seemed the logical and right thing to do at the time. I had always been a deep thinker, even at a young age and I had gnawed at my problem for years and eventually, some weird logic had told me that the only answer was to kill myself as no one, in particular my parents, would listen to me.

I won’t go into the lengthy discussions I had with my parents, psychiatrists and those who thought they knew what was best for me. To me, it was simple, I was a girl and I should be treated as one. If I couldn’t be a girl, I didn’t want to be anything.

Eventually after many sessions with shrinks, with and without my parents being present, I was referred to a clinic that dealt with “problems” like mine. It was decided that I should go on blockers so that I would delay my puberty until I was considered adult enough to make a final decision whether to be a boy or a girl. A decision that, as far as I was concerned, was a no brainer.

So, at last, I was allowed to be a girl. I was transferred to another school and only certain people who needed to know were in on my gender situation.

My parents now wholeheartedly supported me. I think that they felt some guilt over not listening to me originally and made up for it by being wonderfully supportive. All my male clothes went to charity and my mother and I went on many shopping trips to give me a wardrobe that any young girl would be proud of.

In my new school I wore the girls uniform and I fitted in just fine. I was excused games and P.E. as I had undisclosed “health issues”. I blossomed and came out of my shell and started enjoying my life as a girl called Sarah, name after my lovely grandmother.

A couple of years passed without much in the way of drama. I had many friends who were girls and a few of the boys were okay too. Then a boy joined our school and I kind of liked the look of him, but I was too shy to say anything. There was something about him that attracted me but I couldn’t put a finger on it.

He must have noticed me because about two weeks later, he came over to me in the playground. I had been sitting reading a girlie magazine at the time and I jumped slightly as he sat down beside me.

‘Hi,’ he said, ‘I’m Jeff.’

‘Erm hi, I’m Sarah.’

A bit lame, but lets face it we were both a bit on the shy side.

‘What are you reading?’ he asked, desperately trying to make conversation.

‘A magazine derrrr.’ I replied.

He laughed.

‘Sorry, I’m not much good at the chat up line.’

‘So this is a chat up then?’ I asked looking innocent.

‘Erm no, I mean yes, I mean, oh hell, I’ll just go away, shall I?’

‘No, that’s all right, you can stay.’ I replied, a bit too quickly for my liking. It wouldn’t do to be too needy.

We got talking and more we talked the more we seemed to gel. He had recently moved to a new house with his parents and had transferred to my school. I told him a little about myself but obviously not about my troubled history.

We really hit it off and we often met during break times and talked about the things we liked like food and bands and also things we weren’t so keen on like homework and parents that nag!

About a month later Jeff asked if I wanted to go to the cinema and after a few moments struggling with myself I said yes as long as my parents agreed. Mum and Dad were very worried about me, but trusted me. Dad had a few quiet man-to-man type words with Jeff and left him with definite boundaries about what could and could not happen on that and any future dates.

And so we had our date and it went great and we upped our status from just being friendly to being an item, I suppose.

We went out a few times after that and got closer and closer. I nearly told him about me on several occasions, but I was scared of what he might say or do to me. The last time we went to the pictures, we spent more time making out on the seats at the back than watching the film, nothing too heavy, but I could see that it wouldn’t be long before we might want to explore each others bodies a bit more closely. Things, as far as I was concerned, were getting serious.

That night after saying goodbye with a particular toe curling and elongated kissing session (we were given ten minutes alone) I said goodnight and went in and up to my bedroom.

It was then that I realized that it could not last. My birth certificate said boy and I still had a small but definite penis in my panties. I had some time to go before I could take real hormones and develop as a girl, physically. When I reached the age of eighteen, I would have the operation to finally make me whole, but for now, all that was years away and I had no right to string Jeff along and I definitely didn’t want him to discover something rather strange in my panties.

I had done with lying and keeping things back. I had upset my parents when I had nearly died due to my stupid behavior. I had found out afterwards that I never seemed that convincing to them about my gender issues. Maybe I should have been a bit more forceful and thrown my weight about a bit with my parents, to try to convince them that I was serious, but I didn’t and I nearly died because of my stupidity.

I did not want to make the same mistake with Jeff.

Anyway, Jeff had a right to know about me before things got really serious between us. You might say that at fourteen there would not be anything to be serious about, but fourteen year olds can feel things as much as adults do and lets face it, some have sex. I know that my parents were quite worried about how things might go. They didn’t want me or Jeff to get hurt and I kind of agreed with that.

So there I was in the park, by the lake with Jeff sitting next to me, holding my hand and I was dreading what I had to say.

Only it was so hard to tell him. I had real feelings for him. Love would be too strong a word, but I knew in my heart that it could soon turn to love if we let it and that just wouldn’t be fair without him knowing everything about me, even if it meant that I might lose him.

I swallowed and wondered if Jeff could hear my heart beating loudly. I felt nauseous and close to fainting, but I had to say it, I just couldn’t wait any longer.

‘Jeff,’ I said, my voice sounding a bit squeaky for some reason, ‘I need to tell you something.’

‘What’s that? If you want to tell me that I’m a fantastic bloke and all that, I already know.’ he said, smiling and looking at me enquiringly.

‘Don’t be silly,’ I said punching his arm. ‘Its about us.’

‘Ouch! What about us; you don’t want to break up already do you?’

He looked alarmed.

‘No, of course not, its just, just…’

‘What is it, Sarah, why are you crying?’

I looked at his kind, lovely, handsome face. I desperately wanted to tell him everything, but I choked back the words and couldn’t do it.

‘I…I..can’t!’

I felt physically sick, I stood up and with a cry, I ran off, following the path of the lake, too upset to think anything other than the fact that I hadn’t even got the courage to tell him my most important secret.

I ran as fast as I could in my rather flimsy sandals. The birds flew off in alarm and a woman with a pushchair, quickly moved out of the way before I plowed into her and her baby. My eyes were full of tears and somehow I knew that the small amount of eye makeup I was wearing was streaking down my face; as if that mattered now…

Suddenly, I was grabbed by the arm and turned around. Before I knew it, Jeff was kissing me passionately.

I pulled away.

‘No, no, you don’t understand…’

‘I do understand,’ he said, looking faintly ridiculous, as some of my lipstick had rubbed off on his lips…

‘Jeff, let me go, please, I can’t talk now…’

‘Is it about Adam?’

‘No, yes…what?’

‘Is this all about you once being Adam?’

‘H…h…how do you know about that?’

He held my hand and steered me towards a park bench and sat down close beside me.

‘You don’t remember me do you?’

‘Remember you, from when?’

‘Nursery. We were there at the same time. Jeffy, you used to call me and I always called you Sarah, because that was who you were. My mum kept saying that you were Adam, but I knew different. You were always Sarah and you were nice to me, even though I was a very shy kid. As soon as I saw you in school, I thought that I knew who you were and when I heard your surname, I was sure.’

I looked at him more closely and then it all came back. I recalled little Jeffy, all shy and there was me, as bold as anything going up to him wearing a dress and encouraging him to play with me and the other girls. He had physically changed quite a bit from that little boy, but I now knew that it was him.

‘Then you know about me then?’

‘Yes, when I had that chat with your dad before going to the cinema that first time, I asked him outright and he said yes, it was you and he explained what happened to you and that you were still fragile about it. Not that it makes any difference. You are more girlie than my sister and she’s into anything pink and Barbie dolls too. I told your dad that I would look after you and not take any advantage of you. I also said not to say anything about my remembering who you are and he agreed, thinking that you would tell me your secret if and when you was ready.’

I couldn’t believe this. It was too good to be true. Jeff accepted who and what I was!

‘Where does that leave us?’ I asked, ‘As soon as I can, I am going on hormones and then eventually, I’m going to have an operation to change things down below, but that is going to be years away. Do you really want to be involved with me, knowing what you do? You are a lovely looking boy. Girls are going to come at you in droves…’

He laughed.

‘What’s so funny?’ I asked.

‘You don’t get it, do you? It’s you I want to be with, not some other girl. We’re both too young to do anything silly even if we could and anyway, your dad would kill me even if I thought about it. He’s one scary dude…’

‘He’s sweet.’

‘Not from where I’m standing. He’s very protective of his little girl and as for your mum…’ He shuddered and left that comment hanging in the air.

I think that he was overstating the case a bit but there was something else.

‘What about your parents, what will they say?’

‘They’re cool. I told them about you and they were kind of relieved.’

‘Why?’

‘They thought for a long time that I was gay; being quiet and apparently not interested in girls – talk about silly, I was interested in girls all right, but you were the first one I felt brave enough to ask out. Mum’s brother was gay and he had a hell of a time growing up. He’s living with his partner now, a nice couple. Mum and Dad didn’t want that for me – the gay thing, I mean. Anyway, I told them about you and they were great. As far as they are concerned if it looks like a duck and swims like a duck, then it’s a duck.’

‘I’m not a duck!’

‘It’s a saying, silly; it means that if you look like a girl and act like a girl and then you must be a girl. Anyway your mum and my mum had a long chat about it all before we were allowed to go out.’

‘So, everyone knows about me and you knew about me and I’m the last to know that everyone knows about me?’

‘Eh, what?’

I sighed and I was getting a headache with all of this.

‘Never mind, so we are an item?’

He kissed me gently on the lips and then smiling said, ‘Of course, my little ducking,’

‘Oh quack!’

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