Content note: dream violence.

CHAPTER 22 -- A Rocky Settling In

The rest of the week went so smoothly I got a little nervous. I got all my homework done. I had my third period, and thought I managed it okay. I started to participate a little in discussions, and I was learning the other students' names. People were friendly but a little distant. I kept eating lunch with Teresa, and her friends were a little less distant there. Bethany finally got to ask about me, and I told her the short version of my story which didn't go into the gory details. Even the sanitized version made them look on in horror. It surpassed their darkest suspicions about West High.

Tuesday, I was notified that I would take a different bus on Tuesdays and Fridays which would drop me off at Dr. Gordon's office. Wednesday, I rode the bus home alone, because Teresa was in chorus on Wednesdays.

By Friday night, I was feeling better about everything than I had in a long time. Living as a girl was working out, at least in the short term. School was working out. So when Teresa asked if we could share a room, I said, sure. It turned out that Teresa's bed was a bunk bed, which they'd bought hoping they'd have a second child, and the upper bunk was in the attic. Saturday, we went out to buy a mattress, a dresser, and some desk and bed lights. Teresa made room for my clothes in her closet. Her parents arranged the room with the dressers between the desks so we wouldn't distract each other, set up the lights so one of us could sleep while the other had light to study or read. And by Saturday night, I was moved in her room.

It had been a long time since I'd shared a room. At first, I felt like I had to interact with Teresa all the time, but that didn't work. I had to learn to ignore her sometimes, especially when we had to study. But it was also nice, to have someone to say good night to you and then, when we were in bed, to hear her breathing and know I wasn't all alone. I guess I still had some boy in me, because it also felt cool to be sharing a room with a girl, even if nothing was going to happen.

Teresa started giving me lessons on how to act more like a girl. How to sit, how to stand, how to walk, how to talk. She got me to brush my hair a lot, and reminded me to check how my clothes were fitting, so I would look my best. I couldn't believe how much time I needed to spend on my appearance just so I'd look "presentable." My voice had gone up in pitch, but I needed to raise my speaking voice even higher. I wasn't sure she was right, since some of the girls at school had lower voices than me, but I did what she told me, anyway.

I also spent a lot of time watching the other girls to see what they did, what they liked, what they talked about, how they acted friendly or not friendly. I really wanted to fit in so people would treat me like I was normal. I knew how to act like a normal boy, sort of, but now that anyone who looked at me would see a girl and not a boy, I was going to have to learn to act like a girl. I was really sick of being a freak.

Youth group was two Sunday evenings a month, and that Sunday was youth group, so at church, the kids my age asked again if I was coming. I said maybe next time, but I was still pretty stressed out about my new school. I also called up my parents, because Uncle Boris reminded me that they hadn't seen or heard from me in three weeks. I told them how things were going and they told me they missed me. They called me Martin, which was both nice and strange.

The second week of school went about as smoothly as the first week, except that every now and then, I'd get this weird feeling like everything was strange and weird and I didn't know where I was or how I got there, except that part of me knew exactly where I was and what I had to do. It was like having double vision. I'd have to stand for a minute and ask the part of my brain that remembered where I was and what I was supposed to do next. One time somebody noticed me standing there with a dazed look and asked if I was okay. I mentioned it to Dr. Gordon and she said it was called dissociation. She wasn't surprised it was happening, what with all the stuff I'd gone through, but as long as it didn't happen too often or make problems I shouldn't worry about it.

Then, one night, I think it was Thursday because I saw Dr. Gordon the next day, I had a nightmare. I woke up shaking and a second later, the light went on and Teresa was standing next to my bunk looking at me (I was sleeping on the top bunk.)

"What's the matter? You were screaming."

"Just a nightmare." I started remembering the dream, which was funny because usually my dreams start fading as soon as I wake up.

I heard Aunt Edith and Uncle Boris coming up the stairs and got down off the bed.

"Melanie had a nightmare," Teresa explained when they came in.

"Can you tell us what it was?" asked my aunt.

"I was back at West High. It was Halloween, and I was dressed in a school uniform, only it was very girly, lots of ruffles and bows and stuff, and it made me look like I was six years old. Everything was going fine, nobody was harrassing me, and then Tom Prescott and his gang dragged me off to the gym. The principal was helping them. They had this big altar set up and a bonfire with stones around it, and Ms. Williams was the priestess and the principal was the priest. They needed to sacrifice a virgin, and they'd picked me. It seems the accident in the hospital wasn't an accident, they had arranged it so they would have a virgin. I kept pleading with them, saying I was really a boy, but they said I wasn't any more. For some reason, I was more virginal than any of the real girls, or maybe they just didn't want to sacrifice any of them. Anyway, Ms. Williams was holding a stake. She was going to drive it through my vagina, and then they were going to cut out my heart and throw it on the bonfire. That's when I woke up."

I was still pretty shaken by the dream, even though it was just a dream. Teresa looked grossed out by it, my aunt and uncle just looked concerned. We all went down to the living room and my aunt sat next to me on the sofa while my uncle got me something to drink. Teresa sat on the other end of the sofa with her knees pulled up to her chin, looking at me. My aunt put her arms around me and held me close to her, and it made me feel a little better. After I'd had something to drink, my uncle put a blanket over us and gave Teresa another one. My aunt held me and stroked my shoulder until I fell asleep.

I told Dr. Gordon about it. She tried to get me to think about the things that were going well, but she also told me that she wanted me to tell her about things like this. I'd run out of things to tell her about the time before my suicide attempt. I was mostly talking about what it was like living as a girl and not knowing if I was really a girl or a boy or both or neither. And being afraid I wasn't going to be me any more.

I wouldn't have remembered the third week, except that two things happened. The first was that I got paddled. I was used to using curse words, especially when I was upset. We did this all the time at West High and nobody thought anything of it. I knew it was forbidden at Gabriel and thought I was doing pretty well, except that every now and then, the teacher would look sharply at me and say, "Miss Rawlings, what did you just say?" I'd replay what I said in my mind and realize I'd used one of those words. They told me I'd get two warnings and then I'd have to go to the principal's office.

Sometime in the third week, I used up my warnings. I got sent to the principal's office. She was waiting for me.

"Miss Rawlings, I understand you've been using certain words in class that we've made it clear to you you shouldn't use."

I was really scared. I wasn't sure what would happen to me, maybe get expelled. "Y-y-yes, ma'am. I'm very sorry and will try harder not to in the future."

"I'm sure you will. However, I think your intentions need some reinforcement. I think I warned you that some of our methods are a little old-fashioned."

Ms. Ellis, the psychologist came in. Her face looked grim. I was even more scared.

"Please pull down your tights and underwear," said Ms. Williams. I had to pull the waistband of my skirt up to about my chest to get to the top of the tights. I pulled them down to my knees. "That's good enough," she said. "Now turn around and bend over the desk." I noticed that there weren't any papers or anything on one end of the desk. I put my hands down on the desk and lay my face on them. I was really scared, mostly because I didn't know what was going to happen, but also humiliated, having my butt exposed like that. I felt like I was ready to cry, but I tried not to, it would have made me even more humiliated.

I felt someone flip my skirt up onto my back. I heard a whoosh and then felt something hard slap my butt, very hard. I couldn't help letting out an "oh!" I felt my butt starting to sting when the second slap came. It was all I could do not to shout or turn around and defend myself with my hands. I counted ten whacks.

"You may turn around and pull your clothes back up," Ms. Williams said. When I turned around, I noticed her holding a kind of paddle. I pulled up my underpants and tights as quickly as I could, but that wasn't very fast. They tended to get tangled, maybe because I didn't have much experience. Once I got them up and arranged, I slid my skirt down and tugged and twisted things until they looked more or less okay. Ms. Williams looked satisfied, while Ms. Ellis still looked grim. No one said anything until I was done.

"You may return to class. Please try to be more careful with your words in the future."

I don't know if I was supposed to say anything, but I didn't. I stumbled out of the office and back to class. I was having trouble believing what had just happened, and maybe I wouldn't have, except that my butt was still stinging. No one said anything when I got back, and we went on as if nothing had happened. My butt hurt for a while, but it wasn't intolerable. I was mostly shocked.

When we got home, I told Teresa about the paddling and how upset I was. She didn't seem to think it was such a big deal.

"That's one of the things they mean by being 'old-fashioned.' Most of us have gotten one. Some of my friends have gotten it twice. It's upsetting, nobody likes it, but you get over it. One good thing: they don't hold it against you. Once it's over, it's over. They're not into threatening to put stuff in your permanent record."

I wasn't sure I agreed with her, but I had to admit, it wasn't as bad as what I'd been going through every day at West High recently.

The other memorable thing was at the end of the week, I got switched to the advanced math class. I was just leaving math class, and the teacher asked me to stay for a minute.

"Miss Rawlings, I can see that you're not having any trouble keeping up with the work in this class. I think you are ready to switch to the advanced class, and I think you would find it more satisfying. It's your choice, though. Do you want to switch?"

I still wasn't used to talking one-on-one with the staff, so I simply said, "Yes, sir. I mean, yes, I would like to switch."

"Good. Drop your old textbook off when you have a chance. You can leave it on my desk if I'm out. And on Monday, report to Ms. Higgens class, in room 121."