“You don’t lie to me,” Suri sings in her rhythmic, accented voice.

“You don’t lie to me,” Priya sings, trying her best not to giggle.

“You don’t lie to me,” Laura sings, casting an excited glance in my direction.

“You don’t lie to me,” I sing in as authentic a girl’s voice as my wavering vocal chords can manage.

“No more lies!” The four of us all yell simultaneously, earning cheers from Harriet and Megan on the sofa.

“Out of Heaven have got NOTHING on you girls!” Megan giggles, giving all four of us hugs as we return to the sofa. I smile as I press together my knees, which are covered in thick black tights, before sweeping my knee-length patterned black dress underneath me as I slowly lower my bottom onto the sofa.

“Especially you, MISS Moore!” Harriet giggles, giving me a tight hug.

“Hands off!” Suri says, hugging me and trying to wrest me free from Harriet’s embrace.

“Nuh-uh,” Harriet says. “MISTER Moore is your boyfriend, but MISS Moore is just another one of the girls!” I giggle girlishly as Suri and Harriet ultimately decide to ‘share’ me, though Harriet does manage to sneak a squeeze of my nylon-covered thigh when Suri’s not looking.

“And MISS Moore is a million times better as a dance partner than PISS Wyatt!” Laura says, letting out a smug snort as she sits down and crosses one long, nylon-covered leg over the other.

“Oh come on, she’s not been THAT bad lately,” Priya says. “Not since she started talking to someone about her Asperger’s.”

“Yeah, well I don’t see her here, do you?” Laura asks, dramatically looking around Priya and Suri’s vast living room. Her hostility is understandable, though- a week ago today was Valentine’s Day, and despite her popularity at school (and her undeniable beauty, which seems to be increasing every day that she takes oestrogen), she’s still single, whilst Nicole is still going out with the boy who dumped Laura last November. Even though they’re nowhere near the enemies that they used to be- Laura even went to Nicole’s birthday party earlier in the month- it’s still a very sensitive subject for Laura.

Fortunately, my own relationship is very steady- or at the very least, MISTER Ashley Moore’s relationship is steady. Suri’s made it very clear on numerous occasions that her relationship with MISS Ashley Moore is strictly that of a close friend, not a girlfriend. Not that it makes much of a difference when she’s only thirteen and I’m only twelve, but it’s still a dilemma for me, especially when my relationship with Suri is literally the only thing giving me any street cred with the other boys at school.

“Forget about Nicole!” Priya advises Laura. “I’ve already told you, there are plenty of year 10 boys who fancy you. Let me set you up with one of them, wipe that frown off your face!”

“Doubt mum will like me going out with an older boy,” Laura mumbles.

“Oh, whatever,” Priya snorts. “You’re fourteen, these boys will all be fourteen too, they’ll just get to fifteen a couple of months before you do, that’s all.”

“I think it’s SIXteen that Laura’s mum’s most worried about,” Megan teases the blonde girl. “And we all know what ‘sixteen’ means…”

“Someone cover Ashley’s ears!” Harriet giggles as I roll my eyes.

“Laura and her boyfriend, laying in a tree,” Suri teases in a sing-song voice. “F-U-“

“Definitely cover Ashley’s ears!” Priya giggles. “Fine, then, if you don’t want a year 10 boy, how about you, Harriet? I can understand you not liking little boys, younger boys-“

“Hey!” Suri protests as she cuddles my arm close to her chest.

“Younger BOYS, I said,” Priya laughs. “Do you see any boys in here?”

“I certainly don’t,” Laura says with a smug smile, giving me a warm feeling inside.

“And I’ll pass on your boys,” Harriet laughs.

“God, Harriet, are you allergic to boys or something?” Megan asks, making the ginger-haired girl laugh.

“Yes, they give me a rash,” Harriet says, sticking her tongue out at Megan. “Now can we get back to dancing, please? I brought my pointes and everything…”

“And I brought this,” Laura says, holding up a well-worn, short-sleeved red leotard, “for MISS Moore!” I giggle excitedly as Laura hands me the leotard, which I quickly change into before rejoining the girls in the living room, where we all practice various female ballet steps- though I’m forced to sit down once the girls start practising in their pointe shoes, which I obviously still don’t have.

I remain in my leotard- pulling my dress back on over it once ‘dance practice’ is over- until Priya & Suri’s parents return later in the evening. As I stuff ‘Miss Moore’s clothes into a bag to take home, I feel the usual twinge of sadness every time I’m forced to be the boy I desperately don’t want to be, which prompts a tight cuddle from Suri when she comes in and sees me on the verge of tears.

“Aww, Ash…” Suri sighs. “Let me and Priya and Laura come home with you, we’ll explain everything to your parents, get that dress on you on a permanent basis!”

“And when they turn round and say ‘no you can’t be a girl’?” I ask. “When they say ‘you’ll never be a girl again’, when they say ‘you’ll never hang out with Suri and her friends again’?”

“They won’t say that!” Suri says firmly. “And besides, they can’t stop you from hanging out with us at school, can they?”

“Harriet’s father stopped her, didn’t he?” I ask, making Suri frown.

“Your parents aren’t anything like the bigot that he was!” Suri snaps. “They let Laura hang out, they let her play with your sisters, don’t they?”

“They also refuse to acknowledge that Laura was ever anything other than female,” I sigh. “It’s like- it’s okay her being a girl who used to be a boy, but me being a boy who wants to be a girl is something completely different.”

“It’s the exact same thing!” Suri pleads.

“Not for me it’s not,” I moan, making Suri growl with frustration before leading me downstairs.

“Take the BOY home,” Suri urges Laura, who leads me out to her mother’s car.

“Do I even need to ask what that was about, MISTER Moore?” Laura asks, sighing as I shake my head. “Didn’t think so.”

“Hello Ashley,” Mrs. White says as Laura and I get in her car. “Laura, I don’t remember your skirt being that short when I dropped you off this morning…” I barely suppress a smirk as Laura sighs petulantly, before tugging the hem of her skirt down to cover more of her thighs.

“I’ve got legs for the first time ever,” Laura pleads. “So what if I want to show them off a bit?”

“You’re also only fourteen years old,” Mrs. White reminds her daughter, who tugs her skirt even lower.

“And lucky you can bare any leg at all,” I say, bringing a very guilty look to Laura’s face as she lowers the hem of her skirt to the same height it was when she arrived at Suri’s house this morning.

“The offer’s always open, Ashley,” Mrs. White says, making my heart beat faster as nerves grip my body.

“…I’ll pass,” I say, before remaining silent all the way home. After bidding Laura farewell with a quick hug (and feeling envious of her ever-growing ‘shape’, especially on her chest), I head into my home where, as always, my dad is sat waiting with a smug grin on his face.

“Evening, butch!” Dad says, making me roll my eyes. “How are the harem?”

“They’re fine,” I say. “Where’s mum?”

“Relaxing, putting her feet up,” dad says. “Just five weeks to go…”

“Yep,” I say. “Are- are you really looking forward to having, you know, another boy?”

“Don’t tell your sisters this, Ash,” dad whispers, “but yes. You’ve got to be looking forward to it too, surely? Finally having a brother, someone who you can connect with, boy-to-boy, so you don’t have to keep doing girlish things with your sisters like ballet?” Umm… Except I started doing ballet BEFORE any of my sisters, I think, inwardly screaming at dad’s seemingly endless denial of my love of all things feminine.

“I don’t mind, I like my sisters,” I shrug.

“Yeah, I should hope so, you ARE their brother,” dad chuckles. “You’re the one who’s going to have to go around beating people up when they break their hearts, picking them up from dates and parties and sleepovers…”

“Can you give them a chance to grow up first?” I ask dad, who laughs. “Could you give ME a chance to grow up first?”

“You’re the oldest, that means you have responsibilities,” dad shrugs. “And you ARE mature for your age. And I don’t just mean those muscles I know you’re growing!”

“…Thanks,” I sigh, before relaxing on the sofa and spending the rest of the night watching television.

The following morning, my alarm wakes me up and, as always, I shower, brush my teeth and pull on the shirt, tie and trousers that make up my school uniform. As always, I meet up with my six friends at the school gate, and immediately burn with envy as they stride into school in their skirts, tights and blouses. As we walk to our forms, however, it’s clear that all is not well with one of the girls.

“We missed you yesterday, Nicole,” Priya says, barely earning a nod from the mousey-haired girl.

“…Nicole?” Megan asks. “Are- are you okay?” Nicole shakes her head, earning immediately sympathy from all of the girls, who huddle around her- even Laura, who looks especially worried for Nicole despite her betrayal last year. Before I’m able to learn anymore about Nicole’s distress, though, the school bell rings, causing all the students in the corridor to hurry to their forms out of fear of being late.

I worry about Nicole all throughout my first two lessons of the day, before meeting up with the girls at break time. My heart sinks as I sit down and I see Nicole slumped over the table, quietly sobbing into the sleeve of her uniform.

“What- what’s happened?” I ask.

“All men suck!” Nicole screeches, causing me to recoil in shock. “Except you Ashley, but- we all know WHY you don’t suck. But all other men can go to hell!”

“Ph-Phil?” I ask quietly.

“I don’t ever want to hear the name ‘Phil Brooks’ again!” Nicole wails, before going back to sobbing into her sleeve.

“You and me both,” Laura snorts. Even though I’m not outright told what happened, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Nicole and Phil are no longer boyfriend and girlfriend- and it was Phil who made the decision to end the relationship. At lunch, I return to our usual table, but to my surprise, the only people sat there are Laura and Suri- and rather than allowing me to wedge myself between them as usual, they direct me to a seat on the opposite side of the table.

“Where are the others?” I ask.

“Consoling Nicole,” Laura sighs. “She’s been crying all day, apparently Phil dumped her last night over Facebook.”

“That- that’s just rotten,” I spit.

“Yep,” Suri says. “Why is it that the only REAL men are really girls on the inside?” I blush as my girlfriend flashes her trademark sweet grin at me.

“Apparently,” Laura continues, “he told Nicole that she was ‘too much hard work’. Hard to imagine, I know, heh.”

“How do you know that?” Suri asks, her face screwed up in confusion. “Did Nicole tell you that?”

“No,” Laura sighs. “Phil himself told me.”

“What- what?” Suri asks “Why- just- what- why are you messaging Phil? After what he did to you? After what he did to Nicole? After what they both did to you and to each other?”

“I didn’t message him, he messaged me,” Laura clarifies. “About twenty minutes after he’d dumped Nicole, he sent me a message saying he wanted me back.”

“And- and you accepted him back?” Suri asks, her confusion giving way for anger.

“No, of course not!” Laura snorts. “Though… I haven’t actually rejected him either, not yet, anyway…”

“Ugh, Laura…” Suri moans. I watch in silence for the next half an hour as Suri and Laura argue, never once being asked for my opinion- which suits me fine. As desperate as I am to become a girl, there are some parts of feminine life I simply can’t wrap my head around, and relationships are probably the biggest thing I simply don’t ‘get’ yet. I’m sure as I get older, I’ll grow to understand them more, though as I head into my final lesson of the day, I get a very sharp reminder that I might end up understanding them even less.

“Alright, mate?” George asks as he sits down next to me and gets out his pencil case. “Noticed you only had your girlfriend and the ladyboy sat with you at lunch- didn’t feel like inviting me over to sit with you, then? Didn’t want the competition?”

“Yeah, that’s exactly it,” I say, rolling my eyes as George chuckles good-naturedly.

“What was up with the other four, then?” George asks.

“Umm, apparently Nicole’s boyfriend dumped her,” I say.

“What- really?” George asks, suddenly paying me a lot of attention. “The one who broke her ankle last term?”

“She’s not going to be interested in you, not yet, anyway,” I say, making George laugh.

“Ah, come on,” George snorts. “She’s just split up, she’s at her most vulnerable, she needs someone to lean on. Or lean into, if she wants!” I go to respond, but am interrupted by the teacher starting the lesson- an interruption I’m very grateful for. Where the girls’ discussion of Nicole made me feel excluded, hearing George talk about his ‘plans’ for Nicole makes me want to be excluded, not just from the conversation but from the entire male gender.

Things don’t get any better when George accompanies out to my dad’s car at the end of the school day. All the way home- despite Bryony and Cassie also being in the car- George persistently asks me about Nicole and her taste in boys, and once we’re up in my bedroom to (supposedly) do homework, his questioning intensifies.

“Come on, mate,” George insists. “At least give her the chance to meet me. Next to your girl she’s probably the fittest of the lot of them, it’s not going to do any harm if you just let me sit with you once, right?”

“You’re making it sound like I’d be doing HER a favour,” I snort.

“Well obviously I’d owe you one too,” George laughs. “But she isn’t going to want to be single forever, you know.”

“She is for now,” I retort.

“Easy for you to say,” George snorts.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, shocked by George’s sudden hostility.

“It’s easy for you to say because you walk around everywhere with the cutest girl in year 9 literally hanging off your arm,” George says. “And it’s like you don’t even realise how lucky you are! You’re- you’re like a legend to the other year 8 boys.”

“Some ‘legend’,” I snort. These boys definitely wouldn’t think I was a legend if they what I did whilst I was with Suri and the girls… Especially if they could see what I usually wore.

“You’re right,” George chuckles. “Legends set their mates up with girls.” I sigh as we continue doing our homework, and yet a part of me can’t help but feel sorry for George- he’s right in that I’m the envy of the whole school because I’m Suri’s boyfriend. A ‘normal’ boy would kill to go out with her, and by ‘hogging her for myself’ I’m preventing a boy from having that chance. At the same time, though, I know for a fact that Suri- and all the other girls- would loathe going out with someone who has George’s chauvinistic attitude, so in a way, by going out with Suri, I’m sparing her from the meatheads and idiots who drool over her and the other girls- and would undoubtedly treat her as badly as Phil treated Nicole and Laura.

As always, when I fall asleep later in the night, my thoughts are on how uncomfortable my pyjamas are, and how much nicer a girl’s nightie would be, but for tonight, I’m also thinking about what George said- specifically about his insistence that I set him up with one of the girls, as a ‘true’ friend should do.

When I arrive at school the following day, it’s my six girl friends who greet me at the school gate as usual, though their attention is still focussed on Nicole, where it remains throughout break and lunch. After lunch (and drama club), however, I become aware that it’s not just the girls who are paying attention to Nicole.

“Mate,” George says as we sit down for our final lesson of the day, “your friend Nicole is obviously gagging for it!”

“She’s also the one who yesterday screamed, and I quote, ‘all men suck’,” I retort.

“Meh, that’s just what girls say when they’re upset, they don’t mean it really,” George snorts. Ugh, could you make it any more obvious that you know nothing about girls? I think to myself.

“She seems pretty sure about this,” I say, making George snort derisively as the teacher arrives to begin the class.

“Bet you she’ll have got with another guy before Easter,” George whispers. “You could always put in a good word, make sure that guy’s me…” I roll my eyes in response, though I know this isn’t going to deter George from pestering me about it for the rest of the term.

Fortunately, when the bell rings to signify the end of the day, I head down to the car park alone, having already got the week’s ‘George evening’ out of the way yesterday. Instead of climbing into my father’s car, I instead get into the back seat of Laura’s mother’s car, where I’m squashed onto the back seat between Suri and, much to my surprise, Nicole.

“Hey, backseat girlies!” Laura giggles from the passenger seat of the car.

“And honorary girlie!” Nicole giggles as she gives me a tight squeeze- an action that puts a very dark look into Suri’s eyes.

“NOT honorary anymore!” Suri giggles, cuddling my arm in the way I’ve grown so accustomed to over the past few months.

“Umm, I don’t understand,” Nicole says.

“I know about Ashley’s ‘secret’,” Mrs. White explains. “Though I did only find out by accident.”

“Thank you again for letting me come home with you tonight, Mrs. White,” I say.

“Ooh, so you can have, like, public girly days at Laura’s?” Nicole asks.

“Not quite,” Mrs. White says. “Not until SHE is open with her parents. I don’t want them accusing me of sneaking around behind their backs!”

“Aww,” Nicole coos. “Well you’ll always be able to have girly days at MY house!”

“And mine!” Suri says, cuddling my arm ever tighter. I silently grin as Suri and Nicole fawn over me on the backseat- if only George could see me now…

Immediately after arriving back at Laura’s house, I park myself on the sofa whilst the three girls- the three OTHER girls- head up to Laura’s bedroom to change into the regulation pink tights and black leotards they wear at their ballet classes. All three girls also have their hair tied into tight, severe buns- even Laura, whose hair has only recently grown long enough to be tied into a bun.

“Ugh, I am SO looking forward to properly getting back to ballet,” Nicole sighs as she sits down on Laura’s sofa, playfully bicycling her legs in the air and pointing her feet as far as they’ll go.

“I hope you learned your lesson from last November!” Suri says, sitting down next to me and cuddling my arm, which also allows me to gently caress the stretchy material of her leotard as it clings to her waist.

“NEVER doing that again!” Nicole laughs. “I’m not so much as going en pointe unless Miss Fullerton or Mademoiselle Renou tell me to!”

“Have you ever met Mademoiselle Renou yet, Ashley?” Laura asks.

“Umm, not yet,” I reply. “Think she only teaches the advanced classes.”

“She’s REALLY strict,” Nicole laughs. “My first lesson back, when she learned how I broke my ankle, I got, like, a ten minute lecture on how to treat pointe shoes with respect.”

“Which, in fairness, you needed,” Laura says with a smug smile. “Ahh… Think we’re making Ashley go green, all this talk of pointe shoes…”

“If I’m not used to it by now, I never will be,” I say, making the other three girls giggle, before sighing.

“You WILL get there,” Laura says. “I told you, by this time next year, you’ll be wearing one of these-“ Laura stretches the fabric of her leotard, creating a loud snapping sound- “and you’ll be as much a girl as any of us.”

“Hell yeah!” Suri giggles, squeezing my arm tighter. “Even if it does mean I’ll need to find a new arm to cuddle!”

“We ALL need arms to cuddle,” Nicole sighs. “But you know what? A group hug with my best girlies sounds MUCH better, hehe!” Shows what you know, George, I think to myself. I smile as Suri releases my arm and joins Laura and Nicole in the three-way hug, before Laura and Nicole separate and gesture for me to join them.

“Come on,” Nicole whispers.

“Umm, isn’t this a ‘girlie’ group hug?” I ask.

“You ARE a girl, aren’t you?” Laura asks.

“Not dressed like this, I’m not,” I sigh.

“It’s not the clothes you wear that make you a girl,” Nicole says.

“Well- I’m not, you know, ‘physically’ a girl,” I say.

“And it’s certainly not THAT that makes you a girl!” Laura giggles. “It’s what you are inside that counts, and we all know what you REALLY are inside, so come on, non-honorary girlie!” I giggle girlishly as I jump off the sofa and join in the group hug. Even despite my clothes and my increasingly-masculine body, being accepted as a girl in such an unconditional manner just makes me feel… Content, like this is who I’m supposed to be.

Ten minutes later, I’m sat in Laura’s kitchen, awaiting my fortnightly phone call from my counsellor. At Nicole’s insistence, I’ve swapped my school trousers for her school skirt (neither Laura’s nor Suri’s will fit me) and I’m loving the feeling of the soft lining touching my bare thighs (Laura’s mother won’t let me wear any tights), even if it does mean my increasingly-hairy legs are on display for all to see.

“Since when did you and Nicole become friends again?” I ask Laura, who simply sighs and plays with the straps of her leotard again.

“Since we discovered that all boys are jerks,” Laura says. “And I’m NOT saying no offence, because you’re NOT a boy!” Laura and I share a giggle, even as the blonde girl sighs once again. “Yeah, it’ll take a while to trust her again, but I’d rather have her as a friend than as an enemy. God knows I have enough of those at school…”

“I thought it was much worse in your first year than last year or this?” I ask.

“Oh, it was,” Laura says with a shudder. “Even got physical at one point… Kinda why I only hang out with you girlies, better to have a few true friends than a lot of fake friends, but even then I still hear the other kids whispering, pointing at me, giggling whenever I walk past… You sure you’re willing to pay the price of wearing a skirt to school?”

“…I don’t know,” I whisper, making Laura sigh and give me a quick hug that she only releases once my mobile phone starts ringing.

“Good luck,” Laura whispers, kissing me on my cheek before leaving me alone.

“Hello?” I ask as I answer my phone.

“Hello Ashley, it’s Dr Maxwell,” my counsellor says. “Are you free to talk now?”

“Yes, yes of course,” I reply.

“Good,” Dr Maxwell says. “How have things been over the past two weeks?”

“…Okay, I guess,” I reply, before going into detail about the past two weeks, my anxieties about my gender, school, my physical changes and several other topics that the doctor helps me rationalise in my mind. The sixty minutes pass quickly, and by the time we’re done, I feel like we’ve barely scratched the surface of my stress- though I take comfort in the fact that, as Dr Maxwell reminds me before hanging up, I’ll get another chance to talk to her in two weeks’ time.

After pulling my trousers back on and handing Nicole her skirt back, I follow the three girls out to Laura’s mother’s car, again smiling as I’m squashed between Suri and Nicole on the back seat of the car.

“You know,” Laura says, “you could always confide in Miss Fullerton or Mademoiselle Renou. Both of them have transgendered friends, and I’m sure if they knew the truth they’d be happy to teach you pointe, too.”

“We could be ‘the magnificent seven ballerinas’!” Suri giggles.

“Yeah, but they’d inevitably tell my parents,” I sigh. “I’m still not ready for that yet.”

“Even after an hour on the phone to your counsellor?” Laura’s mother asks. “I know it’s a big step, possibly the biggest, but once you’ve taken that step, everything from there on will be easier.”

“In fairness, I don’t know if I’d have had the courage to come out, if you hadn’t forced things by asking me,” Laura whispers. “But I’m so glad you did, and I’m so glad that I’ve been able to be who I am for the last two and a half years.”

“I’m glad too,” Mrs. White says with a smile as we pull up outside the new, fancy dance studio that Miss Fullerton moved her class to over the Christmas holidays. The tall blonde woman herself is there to greet us as we step out of the cold winter air.

“Hey girls!” Miss Fullerton giggles, before turning to me and inadvertently making my heart sink. “Well, girls and Ashley, anyway!” I smile as Suri links her fingers with me- Miss Fullerton obviously has no way of knowing how badly she just snubbed me, but the supportive gesture is nice nonetheless.

“Hi Miss Fullerton,” I say, before grinning at the small, familiar girl sat at the side of the reception area in her pink leotard and flimsy pink skirt. “Hi Bryony!”

“Hi Ashley,” my younger sister replies in a tired-sounding voice. “Hi Laura, Nicole, Suri.”

“Hi Bryony!” My three friends say simultaneously, waving at the nine year old girl.

“Ashley,” Miss Fullerton says as a tall, beautiful dark-haired woman approaches our group. “This is Mademoiselle Renou, who’ll be teaching you when you move up to the advance class in May.”

“Um, bonjour,” I say, shaking the young woman’s hand.

“Ah, merci beaucoup, bonjour, monsieur Moore!” Mademoiselle Renou says with a soft giggle.

“He doesn’t actually study French at school, he just does German,” Suri says, making me blush.

“Oh, na dann, guten Abend Ashley, es ist schön, Sie kennen zu lernen!” Mademoiselle Renou says, giggling even harder and seeming like a far cry from the strict teacher Laura and her friends make her out to be.

“You just keep showing me up with your fancy foreign languages,” Miss Fullerton giggles. “Zoe, Ashley’s one of our more talented male dancers AND the token boy of my ‘Little Angels’. He’s only been dancing for a little over a year but really has a knack for it. Even asked me to teach him pointe a couple of months ago.”

“Really?” Mademoiselle Renou asks. “I’d love to teach a boy pointe. None of my boys from Paris would let me, they were all too afraid it’d make them look ‘sissy’. It’s good to meet a boy who’s comfortable enough AS a boy that he’ll ‘experiment’ like this, hehe!”

“So- so can you teach me pointe?” I ask.

“Of course!” Mademoiselle Renou says with a warm smile. “As long as your parents don’t mind buying you the pointe shoes, of course!” My smiles remains on my face as the rest of my face falls- that’s one obstacle that’ll be almost impossible to overcome.

I spend the entirety of the lesson sat at the side of the room with Bryony and Mrs. White, watching as the girls- including all six of my friends- practise their steps, both on their feet and standing daintily on the tips of their toes, the same as any other ballerina. I watch in envy as one of the other girls in the class, and older girl I’m not familiar with, gets to dance a two minute long routine in a fluffy pink tutu to celebrate her birthday.

I close my eyes for a brief second and allow myself to believe, just for one moment, that on my next birthday, or the birthday afterward, I’ll be able to dance in that same tutu, wearing the same pointe shoes as the other girls. By then, I’ll be fourteen years old, which is the same age Laura is now, and as the twenty-odd teenaged girls file out of the dance studio, I actually have trouble picking Laura out of the crowd, she blends in so well, almost as though she’s been a girl her whole life.

“Hey,” Laura says with a smile as she comes over to us. “So, Bryony, excited at getting your own pointe shoes yet?”

“I guess,” Bryony says with one of her trademark shrugs. “Thank you for giving me a lift home, Mrs. White.”

“You’re very welcome, Bryony,” Mrs. White says. “Come on, let’s get you home.” I smile sadly as I’m forced to tear myself away from the bubble of femininity that is the dance class, though we barely take two steps outside before Laura freezes, a look of shock on her face.

“What is it?” I ask the blonde girl as her look changes from shock to utter contempt.

“Hi, PHIL,” she says to the dark-haired boy stood at the entrance to the car park. I wince a little at the volume of her voice, before realising that she’s being deliberately loud to draw a crowd over to her. Something tells me that Phil isn’t going to leave the studio with his dignity intact…

“H- hi Laura,” Phil says nervously. “You- you look nice.”

“Yep,” Laura says smugly as the rest of our ‘gang’ gathers around.

“Did- did you get my message?” Phil asks.

“Oh, you mean the one you sent after you dumped Nicole, begging and grovelling for me to take you back?” Laura asks. “Yeah, I got it.”

“…And?” Phil asks, an expectant look on his face.

“And…” Laura says as she strides up to the tall teenaged boy. “And… You like the look of my bum in this leotard, Phil?”

“Well- well, um, yes,” Phil replies.

“Good,” Laura says. “Because you can kiss it! Come on Ashley, let’s go home, you’re more of a REAL man than he ever was!” I flinch slightly as Laura links her fingers with mine, but an approving nod from Suri tells me to go along with the ‘act’.

“And you can kiss mine too!” Nicole laughs, wiggling her leotard-clad backside at the humiliated young man.

“…I’m never having a boyfriend,” Bryony says as we get into Laura’s mother’s car. “It looks far too confusing…”

“Yeah, you’re probably the smartest of all of us, Bryony!” Laura giggles as she takes out her phone and composes a quick text message. Moments later, my phone beeps to let me know I have a new text message, which is unsurprisingly from Laura.

‘Sorry I called you a real man,’ the message reads. ‘Couldn’t say anything with your sis in the car but we know there isn’t a trace of man in you, girlie!’ I giggle as I text a smiley face back to Laura by way of a reply, and minutes later Bryony and I are dropped off at our home. My sister immediately heads upstairs to get ready for bed, whilst I relax in the living room for an hour, watching TV and finishing off my homework. Between talking to my counsellor and spending the evening at the dance class, I’m feeling more feminine than ever- which of course means I’m feeling more mentally positive than ever.

My smile doesn’t fade even as I pull on my dreaded school trousers the following morning, I’m in such a good mood- and this doesn’t go unnoticed on the drive to school.

“You’re happy this morning,” dad says. “What’s brought this on all of a sudden?”

“Meh, just a few good things all happening at once,” I say.

“Well, whatever it is, I’m glad,” dad laughs. “You’ve been looking pretty down at times over the last few weeks. Thought for a second that it was because of the new baby, but if things are looking up, then great, I guess!”

“Yeah,” I laugh.

“Ashley…” Dad says. “I know I’ve said this three times before, but just because we’re going to have a new child, it doesn’t mean we’re not going to be there for you if you need us. Whatever’s up, whatever’s bothering you- and I don’t even care what it is- just tell us. I promise we won’t judge, we’ll only love you.” My heart almost skips a beat as dad speaks in this very out-of-character way. Has he ‘sussed me out’?

“Dad…” I whisper. “I- you- you’re being a bit, you know ‘touchy-feely’…”

“Oh- shut up,” dad laughs. “Go on son, your friends are waiting for you.” I smile as I leave the car and meet up with the six girls at the gate, and whilst the sight of them in their uniform threatens to wipe the smile off my face, I make a mental note to do something about it tonight- namely, spend as much time as possible after ballet wearing the same skirt, tights and blouse that the six girls are wearing now.

As I leave the girls to head to form, however, I suddenly become aware of several girls giggling very loud- giggling that only gets louder as I walk past the source, almost as though they were giggling at me.

“Getting paranoid,” I whisper to myself as I remember what Laura said last night about the teasing she had to endure. “Thinking people are giggling at you and you haven’t even come out yet…”

“Hey Ashley,” a different group of girls- from year 10, judging by their uniforms- coo as I walk past, putting an emphasis on the second syllable of my name. I wave back, confused by the sudden interest in me, before heading to form where the giggling continues.

“Morning,” I say to George as I sit down next to him at our usual desk.

“Morning,” the overweight boy says in a tone much more cautious than he usually uses.

“Umm, what’s up?” I ask, George’s wariness causing my smile to start to fall.

“Umm- nothing, nothing,” George says. “Good night last night?”

“Yeah, it was, actually,” I say with a laugh. “Even if I did have to pretend to be Laura’s boyfriend for a bit.” Much to my confusion, George then breathes a sigh of relief and lets out a small chuckle.

“That explains it, then,” George laughs.

“Explains what?” I ask, but before George can answer, we’re interrupted by the arrival of our form tutor to commence the session. All throughout the morning, wherever I go, I’m followed by the same whispers and giggles I faced en route to form this morning, and they only intensify during morning break as I wedge myself between Laura and Suri at our usual table.

“Hey girlies!” I say with a smile. “Any of you- any of you notice anything different, today?”

“Nope…” Suri says. “Different how, exactly?”

“Just- I dunno,” I sigh. “I think it’s what Laura said yesterday about all the teasing she got in year 7, now I’m imagining it happening to me, heh.”

“Aww,” Laura coos, giving me a tight cuddle. “If you’re already getting the teasing, you may as well ‘earn’ it…” I giggle quietly as Laura smoothes her skirt, and my body starts to tingle at the thought of being able to do the same thing at some point in the near future.

“…I hope so,” I say, making Laura tighten her hug. “Whilst we’re making me envious, Nicole, how did it feel to finally dance en pointe?”

“Ugh, absolute AGONY,” Nicole sighs. “Think my ankle hasn’t healed properly but it was swollen up like a football this morning.”

“Oh no,” Megan moans. “Don’t tell me you’re dropping ballet…”

“I don’t WANT to, obviously,” Nicole sighs. “I’ll just have to dance in flat shoes for a while, I guess.”

“I hope you’re not planning on dropping gymnastics as well?” Laura asks.

“Well, I AM wearing my leotard,” Nicole says, sharing a giggle with Laura and Suri, who are also members of the school’s gymnastics teams (and who have both won medals from inter-school competitions over the past few months).

“…And now we ARE making Ashley green with envy!” Suri giggles, tightening her grip on my arm.

“Well, SHE knows what SHE needs to do if SHE wants one of these!” Laura giggles as she rolls up her sleeve to reveal her own skin-tight sparkly leotard.

“And I will,” I say. “Soon. I promise. By the end of the school year at the latest.”

“Yay!” Laura cheers, giving me a tight hug. “I can’t wait for us to finally be able to have the girly days- I mean, PROPERLY have girly days, all seven of us, without having to hide.”

“You can’t wait?” I ask, making Laura giggle.

“The magnificent seven ballerinas!” Priya cheers, making me giggle happily and putting the smile back on my face, a smile that doesn’t fade even as I face the same giggles and whispers as before when I head to my next class. Whilst I’ve made an effort to sound brave for my friends, the prospect of revealing my ‘true self’ to my parents is still terrifying- though a lot less terrifying than it was this time last week. Between what Dr Maxwell said last night about it being the hardest step, and what dad said this morning about being able to tell him anything, I’m almost at the point where I could tell my parents tonight- though I know it’s not just them I’d need to tell, but my grandparents, my great-grandparents, my friends’ parents, my school, George…

After another slightly uncomfortable lesson with my ‘best male friend’, I head out to our usual table at lunch to find it almost deserted save for the oldest of our ‘magnificent seven’. Laura, Suri and Nicole usually attend gymnastics club on Wednesday afternoons, whilst Megan, Harriet and Priya usually take the time to catch up on homework- making me wonder why there’s been a break in the normal routine.

“Hey,” I say as I sit down opposite the fifteen year old girl.

“Hey Ash,” Priya says with a smile. “So… Do you usually come here when none of us do?”

“I- I usually check, heh,” I reply. “About what I said at break…”

“Obviously if you decide to come out, I’ll support you,” Priya says with a warm smile on her dark-skinned face. “And you know Suri will.”

“Will- will your parents, you know, mind?” I ask.

“They didn’t mind about Laura,” Priya shrugs. “In fact, dad was over the moon, I reckon he thought it made him look ‘inclusive’ and ‘politically correct’ if his daughters had a transgendered friend. Especially as it’s still illegal to be gay in India, though it is one of those countries in Asia where you CAN change your legal gender.”

“Would he be ‘over the moon’ if his daughter’s boyfriend turned out to be a girl, though?” I ask.

“Don’t worry about dad,” Priya says with a smile. “Suriya and I will make it clear that he HAS to support you. Our brother, too.”

“Thanks,” I say, returning the older girl’s smile.

“If I have to say something, though…” Priya says cautiously. “I’d- I’d talk to your parents sooner rather than later, if I were you.”

“As soon as I find the courage, I will,” I sigh.

After lunch I head to my final lesson of the day, and the whispers and giggles that followed me around all day persist even as the bell rings and I head out to the car park and get into dad’s car.

“Afternoon, Ash!” dad laughs. “Good day at school?”

“It was… Different,” I laugh, before turning around to face the two girls on the back seat. “How about you two?”

“It was okay,” Bryony shrugs. “When Cassie wasn’t talking about ballet tonight, anyway…”

“Eee!” Cassie squeaks, making dad and I laugh whilst Bryony huffs in frustration. “Can’t wait for ballet! Miss Fullerton is SO pretty!”

“You know, she used to be a model, right?” I ask. “Still is, actually.”

“She’s one of the girls who makes the make-up box I get each month,” Bryony explains. “And the TV show dad won’t let me watch…”

“It’s on at 10pm, he won’t even let ME watch it,” I laugh.

“There are other reasons I won’t let you watch a show about six women talking about clothes, make-up and boys,” dad chuckles. Not YET, father, I think to myself.

“Even though I know one of them?” Bryony argues.

“End of discussion,” dad says, making Bryony huff petulantly again as we head home. Once home, I head upstairs and change into the black leggings and white t-shirt that make up my ballet uniform, but I pause before heading downstairs to dinner and stare into my suitcase at all the feminine delights contained within- including the pleated school skirt and thick grey tights that I intend to wear later tonight, and the light blue leotard I so badly want to wear to my dance class tonight.

“Soon,” I whisper, before heading downstairs to dinner. Immediately after dinner, we head to the dance studio, where I spend the first hour of the evening doing my homework as Cassie dances her heart out for Miss Fullerton. When the time comes for me to swap places with Cassie, however, I find myself confronted with same whispers and giggling I faced at school today, only this time, coming from my own classmates- some of whom don’t even go to the same secondary school as me.

“Hey girls,” I say nervously as I approach a group of four girls the same age as me. “What’s- what’s the joke?”

“Nothing,” the four girls say simultaneously, before giggling even louder than ever.

“Hey, Ash,” Jessica- one of the girls- asks. “When are you getting your pointe shoes?” I roll my eyes and laugh- obviously they’d overheard my request somehow.

“Mademoiselle Renou said she always wanted to teach pointe to a boy,” I half-lie. “I- I just volunteered, that’s all.” The continued giggling of the girls, however, tells me that I’m not fully believed.

Fortunately, Miss Fullerton’s presence calms the girls down enough that I get through the lesson without any more giggling, though it returns in force as I prepare to leave the dance studio (though Cassie holding my hand may be playing a part).

“Ashley,” the five year old girl asks as we get into dad’s car, “why were those big girls laughing at you?”

“Umm, I don’t know,” I reply honestly.

“They probably just fancy Ash, that’s all,” dad laughs. “They think he’s a good-looking young man, and that makes teenaged girls giggle excitedly.”

“Ashley IS a good-looking young man,” Cassie says, making me chuckle.

“Aww, thanks, Cassie!” I say. “And you’re a very pretty young girl!”

“I know!” Cassie giggles as she happily dances around on her car booster seat. “Bryony and Dorothy are also pretty, but I’m probably the prettiest.”

“Yep,” dad says, secretly rolling his eyes at me. “Just don’t tell your sisters I said that, okay?”

“Okay!” Cassie says, making me chuckle even more. “The baby WON’T be pretty though, because he’ll be a boy, and boys shouldn’t be pretty.” Way to burst my bubble as always, Cassie, I think to myself.

“No, be he’ll still be handsome, won’t he?” I ask. “Like his big brother?” I smile sadly as Cassie nods. For all my life, my sisters have been constantly complimented on how pretty they are, by our grandparents and great-grandparents and sometimes by friends of the family. It’s taken almost thirteen years for me to finally get compliments on my appearance- and they’re the wrong type of compliments.

Once we arrive back home, I immediately head up to my room, strip off my dancewear and reach into my suitcase for the precious contraband that I've had on my mind all day. As I'm in the mood to make this a special occasion, I also retrieve a packet of girl's panties and a delicate light blue girl's vest, all of which has a very light, very delicate trim to it that boy's underwear simply doesn't have. I quickly strip off my boy's underwear and stand fully naked in my room, shivering with anticipation.

Taking a deep breath, I step into the panties one leg at a time, slowly drawing them up my legs until they're tight around my waist, before pulling the soft vest over my head. When it comes to underwear, I have to be careful- obviously I have no way of washing it, so I can only really use it once, but when I do wear it, it's always worth it. I pull a pair of thick grey school tights out of the suitcase and slowly step into them, stretching them up one leg at a time until the waistband is snug against my belly button. I pull on a soft, long-sleeved blouse that used to belong to Nicole before stepping into Megan's old pleated grey skirt, smiling as the elasticated waistband of the skirt hugs the waistband of my tights. I fasten my own school tie around my neck before stepping into a pair of tiny black ballerina pumps that used to belong to Harriet and pulling on my own school blazer. Even though the buttons are on the wrong side, it's more than close enough for my needs. I clip my hair back using the same hairclips I used during my 'ballet lesson' on Tuesday, before reaching into my make-up bag for my mascara brush. The brush was a gift from Laura and Suri for Christmas, and is virtually unused- and now's as good a time as any to 'break it in'.

After applying the beautiful make-up to my eyelashes, my hands tremble as I look at myself in my full-length mirror. With my hair held back by clips and the mascara enhancing my eyes, the ‘illusion’ is complete. I’m as indistinguishable as Laura is from the other girls at school. I AM a girl. A very large part of me wants to march downstairs right now and present myself to my parents as their daughter… But I know that if I did, the fallout would be extreme. Dr Maxwell’s always telling me that something like this needs to be handled gently. Something like this need to be said calmly, not shouted… And dressed the way I am, in my skirt and my blouse- MY skirt, MY blouse- I’m shouting louder than I’ve ever shouted before.

I feel the usual sense of depression as I slowly remove my uniform and wash off my mascara, once again disguising the ‘real me’ underneath the façade of masculinity I’ve had to project for the past twelve and a half years. It’s the same depression I feel as I arrive at school the following day to see my six friends wearing the exact same uniform I wore last night- even down to the underwear, no doubt. As with yesterday, I find myself facing the same whispering and giggling on my way to form, though I brush it off as before.

When I meet up with my friends at break, however, I can immediately tell that all is not well.

“Hey gir… lies?” I ask, confused by the worried, almost scared faces of my six friends as I sit down between Laura and Suri- who are giving me a LOT more personal space than usual. “Umm… What’s up?”

“Ashley…” Laura whispers. “I- I need to tell you something. It’s something you’re not going to like.”

“What is it?” I ask, my confusion growing. The girls and I have very few secrets from each other- hell, I trust all six of them enough to tell them the biggest secret I have.

“The reason-“ Laura stutters, before gulping and taking a deep breath. “The reason you- the reason you’re being, you know, teased, the reason for the whispers…”

“It- it’s kinda got out around school,” Nicole says, finishing Laura’s sentence and looking exceptionally guilty herself.

“What has?” I ask, the girls’ worry causing my own panic levels to rise.

“The ‘truth’ about you,” Laura whispers. “About ‘girl you’.” I start to hyperventilate as Laura drops her bombshell- no wonder the girls are all giggling at me, no wonder they teased me about pointe shoes at ballet last night, no wonder George was acting strangely…

“H- how,” I ask, a wave of nausea washing over me.

“Phil,” Laura whispers.

“How the hell did he find out!?” I ask, barely controlling my voice. “Nicole, did you-“

“I told him,” Laura says, causing my jaw to drop open. Of all the people to betray my trust…

“Who- you!?” I ask, my panic replaced by utter shock.

“Ashley, calm down,” Suri says, gently taking a hold of my arm.

“It was when we were going out,” Laura says as tears start to form in her eyes. “He was jealous, I thought if I told him the truth he’d-“

“He’d use it to get back at me after your ‘act’ on Tuesday?” I snap. “I- I can’t believe you, Laura! Of all the people- You!? You’d betray me like this?”

“Ash, I’m so, so sorry-“ Laura blubs.

“Save it!” I yell, shocking the other girls and causing Suri to release my arm. “You- I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to trust you again, Laura.” I get up and walk away from the table, tears forming in my own eyes as I hear Laura openly cry into her friends’ shoulders.

I head into the relative quiet of the boy’s toilets and splash my face with water to disguise my tears, before looking at my face in the mirror. As I stare at my reflection, however, a wave of emotion washes over me, and that emotion isn’t sadness, or panic, or fear… It’s anger. Pure, burning anger, at Laura, at Phil, at my parents… Anger at my whole life for being one colossal joke. Every time I think I’ve taken one step forward- as I had at the start of the week- I always end up getting yanked straight back again, thanks to the selfish actions or other people.

And yet, this is an opportunity. All I need to do is confirm the rumours and the ball would start rolling on my transition. By this time next week, I really could be dressed the same as Laura and the other girls, part of a ‘sisterhood’… At the cost of being bullied for the rest of my school life, if not the rest of my life full stop. The mere thought that I might be a girl inside has caused the entire school to treat me as a laughing stock. And that… That makes me even angrier.

I allow my anger to stew for the next two lessons, choosing to hang out with George at lunch instead of face the other girls. George also explains the ‘rumour’ to me, but also explains that he believes it was spread by Phil as a way of getting back at me for pretending to be Laura’s boyfriend. George also explains that he’s done his best to quell the rumours by telling the other kids at school that Phil made it up as a way of getting back at me. George can be such a good friend when he wants to be.

The same, however, can’t be said of Laura. Despite all the material things she’s done for me, the way she’s betrayed my trust is unforgivable. She was the first person I ever entrusted with my secret, and the airhead blabbed it her boyfriend without as much as a second thought. As I enter the school’s main hall for drama rehearsals at the end of the school day, the mere sight of her causes my blood to start to boil again- though that’s followed by a sight that causes me to lose it completely- the sight of Philip Brooks, my archenemy, standing with a friend, laughing as though it was just a big joke that he’d just ruined my life. With my face almost turning red with anger, I walk toward the tall boy, who regards me with a snort of laughter.

“Oh, hey Ashley,” Phil laughs. “How’s the-“ Phil doesn’t get the opportunity to finish his sentence, as I punch him in the abdomen as hard as my pre-teen arm will allow. Whilst it didn’t feel like a hard punch as I was swinging it, it must have done the trick, as Phil is literally knocked off his feet and falls to the floor, doubled over in pain and gasping for air. Before I can throw a second punch, however, I feel a pair of arms restrain me from behind. My adrenaline thins as Phil gets up and staggers away, supported by his friend, and it’s only when I’m face to face with the stern, almost angry face of Mrs. Ingram that I realise just how much I’ve screwed up.

“This is unacceptable!” Mrs. Houghton- our headteacher- barks as I stand before her, my head cowed in shame. “I don’t care about any reason that you have that you THINK justifies hitting another pupil. In this school, violence is NEVER the answer!”

“I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“I’m not the one you should be apologising to,” Mrs. Houghton says. “I’m suspending you for one day. I’d have hoped that being friends with Laura and her gang would’ve instilled a sense of responsibility in you. Clearly that isn’t the case. Your parents have been called, and when you come back to school on Monday, I expect you to have with you a written apology to the boy you assaulted.”

“Yes, Mrs. Houghton,” I mumble again.

“Go and wait in reception for your parents,” Mrs. Houghton sighs, dismissing me from her office with a wave of her hand. I slowly walk down the stairs toward reception, passing the main hall (and its ongoing drama rehearsal) as I go. As I look through the door’s window at the rehearsal, my eyes momentarily meet Laura’s, and I’m filled with a deep feeling of shame, a feeling that only intensifies when dad arrives twenty minutes later with a look of utter disappointment on his face.

“Fighting, Ash?” Dad asks. “Really?”

“I’m sorry, dad,” I mumble.

“I didn’t raise you to be a thug,” dad says. Yeah, right, I think to myself. “What kind of example is this going to set to your sisters? Or to your brother after he’s born?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

“What could have possessed you to go and do something like that, anyway?” Dad asks. “What did this boy do that made you go in there and lamp him?”

“He- he spread a rumour about me around the school,” I say, my nerves building, but for a different reason than before. Dad’s inevitably going to ask a question now…

“That’s still no reason to hit someone,” dad snorts. “What rumour, anyway?” I take a deep breath before continuing. Now is the time for the truth. Dad surely can’t get any more disappointed in me than he already is.

“He- he spread a rumour saying that I was transgendered,” I say. “That I wanted to be a girl, like Laura.” The look of shock and disgust on dad’s face makes me wince- my belief that dad couldn’t get any more disappointed is obviously going to be put to the test.

“And- and is that true!?” Dad asks in disbelief. This is it, I think to myself. He’s either going to be furious, or ultimately accepting. Either way, here I go.

“…Yes,” I say, looking dad straight in the eye. What I didn’t consider was that there was another reaction dad could have had, as proven when he bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Haha!” dad laughs heartily. “You almost had me going there for a second, Ash! Come on, let’s go home.” My smile remains on my face as my brain gets more and more scrambled by dad’s reaction. I finally find the courage to tell him, I finally say the thing I’ve wanted to say my whole life, and he reacts like this!?

“Yeah,” I laugh, playing along with dad’s delusion in the absence of any better option.

“God knows if someone said that about me, I’d probably chin them too!” Dad chuckles. “Doesn’t mean you aren’t getting punished, though. If I was feeling cruel, I WOULD make you wear a dress for your suspension tomorrow, heh!” My mind remains a blur as we head home, and once we arrive, I head straight up to my bedroom, where I break down in a flood of tears. All my anxiety, all my stress was for nothing. Right now, I feel like less than nothing. I finally told my parents… And all I have to show for it is a one-day suspension from school. I’m no closer to being a girl than I was before- in fact, I’m further away than I ever was.

After dinner- and a cringing explanation of the situation to my mum and my sisters, minus the specifics of the rumour, of course- I head back to my bedroom with a roll of black bin liners in my hand. Normally, today would be my second ballet lesson of the week, but right now, all I want to do is put as much distance as possible between myself and anything feminine. The only thing my desire to be a girl has ever got me is misery, and it’s finally time to stop pretending. I’m NOT a girl. I never will be, and the sooner I get rid of this fantasy, the better.

I wipe a tear away from my eye as I stuff all of my girl clothes into a bin liner, taking no care to keep them tidy or folded. I double-check my suitcase once it’s empty, making sure nothing is left behind, and tie a knot in the top of the bin liner, sealing it up forever. Before heading back downstairs, I grab my tablet computer. I’ll need to hand it over to my parents over the weekend (as part of my punishment), but before I do, I take the opportunity to check it for any new messages- and unsurprisingly, there are new messages from Laura, Suriya, Harriet and Nicole.

‘OMG!’ Laura’s message reads. ‘WTF were you thinking, punching Phil!?’ I scowl at the message, not even dignifying it with a response before closing the window and browsing to Laura’s profile, first clicking ‘remove friend’ before clicking ‘block’.

‘What is wrong with you?’ Harriet’s message reads. ‘I thought you were cool, not like all the other stupid boys!’

‘Eat shit,’ I type in reply, before also unfriending and blocking the ginger girl.

‘Why did you punch Phil?’ Nicole’s message says. ‘Yeah, he was a jerk, but he didn’t deserve that!’

‘Really?’ I reply. ‘After the way you were weeping over him on Monday?’ Before waiting for a response, I also unfriend and block Nicole. Finally, I read Suriya’s message, which makes my heart sink furthest of all.

‘You’re such a thug,’ Suriya’s message reads, and I can almost taste the bile in her words. ‘Here I was thinking you were mature for your age.’

‘Yeah, well you got that wrong, didn’t you?’ I reply. ‘Goodbye, Suriya. Forever.’ I hesitate before unfriending the tiny Indian girl, but I go through with it anyway and also block her from my Facebook profile. After blocking Megan and Priya- even though they didn’t message me- I grab my phone and head downstairs, handing my electronic devices over to dad.

“What’s in the bin bag?” Dad asks as he locks my phone and tablet in his desk drawer.

“Figured I’d get a head start on cleaning out my room,” I say. “Just stuff I don’t want anymore.”

“Huh, fair enough,” dad shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I’m going to go any easier on you this weekend. You know where the bins are.” I nod, before dragging my rubbish out to the big black wheelie bin. I pause after opening the lid, tossing the heavy black bag back and forth in my hands- a bag that represents over a year of hopes and aspirations… But also represents how cruelly those hopes and aspirations were dashed.

“Goodbye,” I whisper, hurling the bag into the wheelie bin and slamming the lid shut.

I spend the following three days doing chores and acting as a general helper for my heavily-pregnant mother. On all three mornings I wake up and pull on my jeans and sweatshirt, and on all three mornings I try to disregard the pang of regret in my body that tells me that I should- and could- be wearing a cute skirt and a pair of tights instead. That was a life that was not meant to be, and therefore isn’t.

The ‘pang’ is stronger than ever when I wake up on Monday and pull on my school uniform. Five days ago, I pulled on a school uniform, but it consisted of a blouse, a skirt and a pair of thick grey tights, rather than the shirt and trousers I’m wearing now. As I head out to dad’s car, I watch the bin lorry pick up our wheelie bin and tip its contents- including all of my once-precious femininity- into the crusher at the back. I nearly have to restrain myself from rushing toward the lorry and retrieving my bag of clothes, but once the bag is out of sight, I resign myself to the fact that ‘Miss’ Ashley Moore is now gone for good.

As we arrive at the school gates, I’m unsurprised to find that none of the six girls who used to be my friends are waiting for me, but the second I enter the vast building, I’m surprised by a dark-skinned hand grabbing my arm- Priya’s hand.

“You little rat,” Priya spits at me. “Suri was on the verge of tears all weekend thanks to what you said.”

“Leave me alone,” I snort, shaking myself free of Priya’s grip.

“Not until you apologise to her!” Priya says, making me scream internally.

“Fine. Sorry. Whatever,” I say, before spotting George walking to form alone. I leave the angry Indian girl far behind before catching up with my best friend.

“Oh, hey mate,” George says. “Heard about what happened on Thursday…”

“Yeah, not my finest hour, that,” I snort.

“Are you kidding?” George laughs. “You knocked out a year 9, how cool is that?”

“Hardly ‘knocked him out’,” I say. “Maybe winded him a bit.”

“Either way, I know who I’m turning to if I need defending,” George says. “Take it you got bollocked by your folks when you got home?”

“Yeah, grounded all weekend,” I sigh.

“Ah, that sucks,” George says. “Didn’t get to show off your new ‘tough guy’ to your girlfriend then?”

“She’s not my girlfriend anymore,” I whisper, desperately trying to control my emotions. “She didn’t like me hitting Phil, so she- so I dumped her.”

“Oh, mate,” George says, his smile widening even further. “As if you couldn’t get any cooler! Dumping the cutest girl in year 9 and beating one up. Don’t think anyone’s going to believe those rumours about you ever again!”

“That’s kinda the plan,” I laugh as I head into form and sit down next to my best friend, my ONLY friend. For the first two lessons of the day, I focus entirely on my work and/or talking to George, trying my best to ignore the girls as they walk around us in their grey tights and pleated skirts. I try my best to forget what it feels like to wear the clothes, to gossip with the girls, to BE a girl… And yet, when break comes, I find myself staring longingly at my old lunch table, where my six friends- and their uniforms- are sat consoling Suri, whose tiny body is slumped over the table in much the same way Nicole’s was a week ago today.

“Come on mate,” George says. “You don’t need them.”

“No, no I don’t,” I whisper as I follow George onto the playing field and my new ‘spot’, which is also where I find myself at lunchtime as I slowly settle into my new routine. I’d almost put the girls out of my mind by the time the bell rings to signify the end of the day when my phone beeps with a text message- and it’s from Laura.

‘I’m sorry,’ the message reads. ‘We miss you.’ My finger hovers over the ‘delete’ button- if it wasn’t for Laura, I’d never have been suspended, I’d never have had my ‘coming out’ thrown back in my face, I’d never have been forced to abandon the girl that I used to be… But if it wasn’t for Laura, I’d never have had the chance to be the girl I used to be.

I put my phone away with the message still on it as I get into dad’s car. I’d tried my best on Friday evening to put the girls- all seven of them, myself included- as far behind me as possible, but despite Priya’s anger and Suri’s distress, they’re not quite ready to give up on me, and the girl I was, just yet. The question is, will I ever be ready to accept ‘her’ into my life again- and more to the point, will I ever be allowed to?