I look at Bethany in confusion and say, “You know, I believe that. But…why? I mean…”

She puts a finger on my lips and says, “Look, you know that I just moved here last year. One of my best friends back home was severely bullied at school because she was transgendered. I still Skype with her at least weekly. Anyway, I am an active member of the LGBT group at school here. Not because I am any of the above, but just because I believe everyone should be able to follow their heart without persecution.”

I look at her, stunned. I let that sink in and say, “So, you too think that if I came out that I would be bullied here. I mean, it is to be expected, right?”

She nods and says, “Unfortunately, yes. There are certain…elements…at school that would go after you. There is a larger group of LGBT individuals and supporters at school than you probably think; and it is always pretty predictable who the agitators will be. That being said, what have you got to lose? You are already well on your way.”

I shake my head and say, “I am not ready… I don’t know if I will ever have the courage. Maybe I could try at home; when nobody is around…”

Bethany says, “Well, you are always welcome to be yourself around here—even when my parents are home. They will be completely discrete…and they will welcome you either way. They fully support Clarissa, my friend back home…and they support my activities here at school.”

I shake my head and say, “I had no idea…” I look at her and say sincerely, “Thank you, Bethany.”

She hugs me and says, “The LGBT society at school has to keep a low profile to be allowed to ‘officially’ exist. The school officials are as supportive as the law forces them be. There are members of the faculty that are fully supportive, though. Mostly, we work in the underground to keep change moving in the right direction…one slow step at a time. As you know, this is not the most progressive town—BUT, people are generally willing to let live your life in peace as long as you don’t force your views on THEM… Sort of ‘leave me alone and I’ll leave you alone…’”

She gets up and gets out some yoga clothes and hands them to me. She asks, “So, shall we start some yoga and see if we can get you stretched out a bit. And…what shall I call you?”

I take the girl’s exercise outfit and smile—then give her a shy look. I say, “You know, I have never let myself dream that far…but, I think maybe…Layla?”

An hour later, I am putting my own clothes back on to go back home. I am just not ready to be ‘Layla’ more openly than outside of Bethany, for now—not even her parents.

Bethany hugs me as I get ready to go out the door. I still have her panties on, but not the stockings. She smiles, gives me a hug, and says, “Layla, keep the panties—they were never worn, so you don’t have to worry.” She hands me a plastic shopping bag and says, “These are brand new, as well. There are enough to get you through the week. Just bring them over to me to wash them. That way, your mother doesn’t have to know…”

I blush and give her a big hug, then hurry home. Mom is in the kitchen when I come in and asks, “Did you have fun, Hon? What’s in the bag?”

I stutter, “Oh…this? Just some stuff Lewis had borrowed and returned. Let me put it upstairs and I will be right back down.” I take the panties upstairs and hide them where I know Mom won’t find them, feeling guilty about not telling her. I resolve myself to tell before the week is out, though. I don’t want Bethany doing my laundry. I could probably find a time that I could wash them myself, but I am aware that they have to air dry—at least Mom always does HERS that way—and I don’t know how I could keep them hidden long enough to get them dry.

I go back downstairs and Mom asks what I feel like for supper. I shrug and say, “Umm…a salad with crispy chicken sounds really good.” She nods and I ask, “So, I can’t stand it… You have not said anything about my lips…”

Mom looks at me and asks, “Did you want me to? They are gorgeous. I assumed that they just ‘appeared’ like the rest and you were embarrassed by them. Was I wrong?”

I shake my head and say, “No. You were right, I just woke up with them this morning. Mom, what am I going to do at school tomorrow? I have decided to let my beard grow out to try and offset some of this, but there are some kids at school that I know will not let this go without…comment.”

Mom comes over and hugs me. She says, “Landon, I can take you over to a friend of mine that does professional makeup and we can probably hide most of this. Do you want me to? I have no idea what is causing this—or why. I don’t even know who to take you to, to try and find out… They would declare BOTH of us crazy…”

I nod and say, “Yes, I know… Ummm, that would be great Mom, hiding it, I mean. I just hope whatever it is has run its course.”

Mom picks up her phone and sends a text. A minute later, she gets a response and says, “OK, come on then, Hon. Sheila is waiting for us.”

Thirty minutes later, we are sitting in Sheila’s kitchen. It turns out that she works in the theater department at the local university. She and Mom seem to be really good friends and Mom had already let her know that we might need her help.

Sheila is examining my face and says, “So, this just appeared? No, I don’t think you are crazy; I can’t explain it, though. You may think that *I* am crazy, but I believe in magic…and curses… This could be either… Have you done something to someone that might warrant them wanting some sort of revenge on you?”

I look at her stunned. I think, “Magic? Really? Maybe a little too much of that recreational weed?” I say, “Errr… No… Not that I can think of…”

She just nods, but lets it drop. She asks, “So, you want to look more like your normal self? Do you have a picture of him with that look, Mary?” Mom nods and pulls up a picture on her phone. Sheila looks at it and says, “Yes, we can easily get that look back, but it is going to take some pretty heavy makeup. From far away, no one will know. But, if anyone looks too closely, well…”

I sigh and say, “Can we see?”

She nods and starts to work. She glues on false eyebrows, after trimming them to shape. She trims my eyelashes and applies some carefully-matched flesh-toned makeup around my eyes. She says, “A little powder…and voila!”

She hands me a mirror and I look at my eyes. Aside from my eyelashes being heavier and thicker, something she can’t really do anything about, my eyes look basically ‘normal’. I say, “Sheila, that is great! You can barely tell anything is different.”

She nods and says, “The lips are going to be more of a challenge. Like your lashes, there are aspects I can disguise. Your lash length could be trimmed, but I couldn’t really thin them out. Well, I could, but I doubt you would like that…nor would it really be worth the effort, I think. With your lips, there is really nothing I can do about the fact that they seem to be permanently plumped. Also, I can’t explain the glossiness…”

She takes out a case that has lip colors of every shade you can think of in little pallets. She picks up a brush and a pallet of ‘natural’ colors. She loads the brush with some of the lip color and starts applying it to my lips. She says, “Hmmm… That is really INTERESTING! Mary, look. His lips take on the color that I am applying, but they stay glossy.”

Mom has a funny look on her face as she watches Sheila. After a few minutes, Sheila hands me the mirror again and I see lips that are close to my ‘normal’ color, but still really pouty and soft-looking…and still REALLY glossy… I sigh and say, “Well, at least they are not pink, anymore.”

I take the little pots of makeup to my bathroom. Sheila had explained that I have to remove everything, but the glued-on brows, every night, just like any other makeup. She had showed me how to reapply the rest, which was not that difficult. I would have to take off the eyebrows every few days and reapply them, though. She had shown Mom how to glue them on.

I help Mom fix the salad for our late supper and feel much better about school tomorrow. The only real challenge, now, is my walk and making sure that no one notices my shoes… I gasp and Mom looks at me and asks, “What’s wrong, Hon?”

I look at my shoes and say, “P.E.! I have gym tomorrow…” P.E., unlike in many schools across the nation, is still available in our school as an elective. I take it to appease my Dad… I say, “What am I going to do?”

Mom says, “I will write you an excuse for this week. That will buy us some time until we can figure something else out. Can you maybe transfer into something else? The year just started, I think you can still transfer, right?”

I slowly nod and say, “Yes, we still have this week… You will have to write me a permission slip to do so, though, since it is already this late. I have no idea what other electives are available during that period, though… Oh well, ANYTHING is better at this point…”

I get up an hour early to make sure that I have time to put on the new makeup. It does not take long, since it is basically just making sure that everything is covered up and even. I am so relieved by the fact that eyes are normal and my lips are not bright pink, that I don’t even notice that my face is completely smooth…no sign of my beard in sight. I go downstairs and am eating a bowl of cereal when Mom comes down.

She gives me a hard look, then puts on a smile as she says, “Are you ready for the day?” I nod as she hands me two envelopes. She says, “One is an excuse to get you out of P.E. for ‘foot’ problems—which, ironically, is true—a stretch, but true. The other is a permission slip to transfer into another class, assuming one is available.”

I hug Mom and go to brush my teeth while she finishes her breakfast. I check my makeup and am satisfied that it looks OK. I grab my stuff and then it hits me that I don’t have anywhere to put my keys or my wallet. I had forgotten about the lack of pockets in these pants…

Fortunately, Mom reminds me that I have my old messenger bag that I have not used in ages. I stick my stuff in it and Mom drops me off at school half an hour early, so I have time to go to the front office.

I enter the registration office and see Miss Thornton. I smile at her and say, “Good morning, Miss Thornton, I need to be excused from P.E. this week. Actually, I need to transfer out, if possible.”

She looks at me and asks, “Landon, right? Do you have signed slips?”

I nod and hand her the sealed envelopes. She opens them and reads them, then types on her computer. She looks at me and smiles. She says, “Well, I DO have ONE opening that you can transfer into… It is Home Ec with Mrs. Van Buren, though.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. I think to myself, “Did I really say ANYTHING would be better?” Mrs. Van Buren is known to be one of the toughest teachers in school…and a perfectionist to no end. She was a professional costumer for the local ballet until it closed down…and her home ec classes are ALWAYS heavy on sewing…

I nod and say, “That will be fine, Miss Thornton. I don’t really have much choice…”

She gives me a strange look and asks, “Are you alright, Landon? You will be the only boy in that class… Do you want to wait and see if your medical problem gets better? You still have all week to switch…”

I sigh and shake my head. I say, “No, someone else might take the last slot…and I think my foot issues are going to be longer-term…”

She shakes her head and types into her computer. After a minute, she says, “OK, you now have Home Ec for your third period, instead of P.E. Good luck and I hope your health issues get resolved. Are you seeing a doctor about them?”

I shake my head and say, “I am trying yoga as therapy, first. My hope is that will resolve the issue. If not, I will see a specialist. Thank you, Miss Thornton, have a great day!” I take the slip that she gives me to certify that I have transferred and hurry out into the hall before she asks any more questions.

I run into Lewis on the way to my first class, algebra; he is in the same class. I almost LITERALLY run into him, since I am concentrating so hard on NOT walking like a female supermodel. He says, “Earth to Landon! You are going to have to look where you are going, dude! Wow! Your face looks much better! You can’t really tell anything…except it looks like a bee stung your lips and you have some sort of ointment on them…”

I look at him and smile. I say, “Brilliant, Bro! That explanation will work for a while, if anyone asks…”

We sit down in our normal seats and he says, “So, Bethany says that you two had a good talk. Care to share?”

I look around and say, “Later… Not here. I promise I will, though…”

The first two periods pass by quickly, especially since I am in the same room for both classes. Not having to walk around helps my confidence a lot. But, then third period arrives. Lewis heads off for P.E. and shakes his head as I tell him that I had to switch to home ec…

I walk down the steps to the basement room that houses all of the home ec equipment. You know, fully equipped and stocked kitchens, sewing centers, and such. I am, once again, trying to not walk like a model as I enter the room.

There is a group of girls all huddled together and giggling. I immediately feel like some alien from outer space—until I see Bethany look up. She sees me and smiles. She waves and asks, “Landon, are you lost, or something? Don’t you have P.E. with Lewis, right now?”

I sigh and start to say something when Mrs. Van Buren waltzes in and claps her hands. She says, “Quiet, girls, we have a lot of work to do today. Oh, I see our new student found his way down here.” She looks at me and says, “I don’t understand what could possess you to want to be in this class, but I expect FULL participation—and don’t expect any leniency because you are a boy. Some of the best cooks and costumers I know are men!”

The gaggle of girls giggle and Mrs. Van Buren glares at them. They immediately quiet down. Mrs. Van Buren says, “Landon, you have missed the first important planning classes and will have to catch up. Girls, will anyone here volunteer to pair up with Landon and get him caught up?”

To my immense relief, Bethany speaks up, “I will, Mrs. Van Buren. I am happy to.”

When class is over, I sigh. There is the distinct possibility that I am totally screwed in this third period. Since, it started out with only girls, the semester project is to design and sew a fancy dress that is worthy of a classical ballet, or opera… Every detail must be paid attention to. The time I have missed has been spent by the other girls researching the style of dress they want to sew…and thinking up how they want theirs to look. Mrs. Van Buren is not just satisfied with teaching sewing, she is teaching design, as well. Ninety-nine point nine, nine, nine percent of students taking her class are always girls…and always girls that have a propensity for fashion design. Some have even gone on to high-paying jobs in that industry.

I am walking up the steps to the main floor after class, talking to Bethany, not paying any attention to my walk. Bethany is promising to help me in my research and we are making plans for me to come by her house after school when I am suddenly pushed from behind.

I nearly fall on my face, and turn around to see Edward Scranton. He sneers and says, “Well. What do we have here? A little fag? Just look at that walk… And in home ec with the girly-girls? Queenies are not welcome in our school!”

Bethany holds on to my arm to steady me and says, “Get lost, Edward! Bigots are not welcome in our school! Just because Landon has some medical issues and has to take the only class available outside of P.E. does not give you license to shove him. Not that ANYTHING does, for that matter!”

Edward gives both of us a look of pure hatred and spits out, “Look Bethany, I know the crowd you hang out with. THAT is ALL I need to know to judge this little fag…”

The group of girls in class with us all surround Bethany and me and Edward snarls, but turns and leaves us. I am shaking when it is all over with. Bethany sighs and thanks the girls, who are looking at me in a thoughtful way. We quietly move on to our next class, which we also happen to have together…

The rest of the day is progressively intensified pure hell. Edward bullies me every chance he gets and is getting his little group in on the whole thing. Bethany tells me that he is the ringleader and heart and soul of the ‘anti-gay league’. She tells me that he is the one that keeps them riled up. After one particularly nasty ‘run-by’ shove that I get from one of his disciples, she says, “I swear, Joey was a nice kid until Edward starting poisoning him! I don’t think he, or most of Edward’s gang really believe in what he preaches. They only go along with it to be in his ‘cool’ gang…”

I sigh and say, “Well, that doesn’t stop them from doing his bidding, though.

I am praying for the day to end. Finally, the last period ends and I hurry out the front door. Unfortunately, I am alone and Edward is there with his group. They grab me and pull me to the side of the school. A small group of students gather around to see what is happening. Two of Edward’s thugs hold me, my arms pinned behind me. Edward punches me in the stomach, hard. I double over and the two let go of me. My face smashes into Edward’s shirt…and my makeup smears…

Edward sees my face and snarls, “Look, the little fag is wearing MAKEUP!” The other two grab me again and Edward wipes at my face, revealing the pink of my lips and the ‘eyeliner’. I guess the edge of one of the eyebrows had come loose, too. He notices and rips them both off, revealing my heavily sculptured brows.

He jumps up and down pointing me out to the crowd with glee, “See! I KNEW it! He IS a fag!!!” To put the final nail in my coffin, one of his thugs notices my shoes and says, “And, look! He is wearing HEELS!”