Never in my life have I felt more comfortable.

I'm dressed as shabbily as I have ever been. Old, tatty jeans and a loose, long-sleeved t-shirt. I'm wearing no make-up whatsoever, and my short blonde hair is messy and unstyled. I have a paint brush in one hand and a stencil in the other, and for the first time in a very long time, I can truly forget that I was ever a girl.

"Kayleigh-Ann!" Miss Fullerton- my ballet teacher- yells, snapping me out of my fantasy. "When you're done with that wall, can you come and see me in the storage room?"

"Sure!" I reply, sighing as I stare at my pale red fingernails. As much as I try to be as male- or at the very least, as androgynous- as possible, there'll always be at least one part of me that gets dragged back to femininity.

"Hey, Kayleigh-Ann!" A voice calls from behind me, a voice belonging to a younger blonde girl who hands me a new set of stencils. "Oh my god, you are RUINING your nails! Wait there, I'll get you some gloves!"

"No, it's okay," I say. The more ruined they get, the better, I think to myself- though that's not an excuse I'll get away with saying out loud... "I'll, um, I'll probably be taken out for a makeover tomorrow anyway. It's, um, it's my birthday tomorrow..."

"Oh my god, happy birthday!" The girl squeaks. "An important one?"

"My sixteenth," I say, making the girl squeak happily.

"Oh, that is SO cool!" The blonde girl giggles. "Aww, I hope I get taken out for a makeover on my next birthday, get my nails done... Oh my god, you probably have NO idea who I am, just gabbing on like this. I'm Laura, Laura White, I joined the same class as you last month?"

"Oh, YOU'RE Laura?" I ask, smiling as Laura giggles excitedly.

"'Fraid so!" The blonde girl giggles, causing my insides to churn despite myself. Even though I didn't recognise her face, I know the name 'Laura White' well- she's the same girl who finished primary school as a boy, but started secondary school as a girl... And looking at her now, is infinitely more feminine than I ever want to be, dressed in her short denim skirt, pink hoodie and black leggings. God only knows how offended she'd be if she knew about 'Ian'...

"Though I got, like, a million different nail polishes from my grandmas for Christmas!" Laura giggles girlishly. "I'll probably still be using them by the time I'm fifty, hehe! There's just something so cool about getting your nails done professionally, though."

"Yeah," I say, half-listening as Laura continues talking to me.

"Though god only knows how my dad would react if he saw my nails," Laura says, examining her bright purple fingernails. "Hope the bastard's getting what he deserves every day in the showers."

"Your dad's in prison, right?" I ask hesitantly.

"Where he belongs," Laura says with a smug smile. "If he can't accept me as my daughter, he doesn't deserve to have any children, my brother doesn't even acknowledge him as his father anymore." Wish I had that option... I think to myself.

"Is he older?" I ask.

"Mid forties, why?" Laura replies.

"Just reminds me of my grandmother, she's really old-fashioned," I sigh. "My paternal grandmother, anyway. For Christmas she got me two Barbie dolls and a sewing kit."

"For a nearly sixteen year old girl?" Laura asks, scrunching up her face in disgust. "Still, it could be worse, she could've got you a pair of football boots and, like, a toy rifle or something, heh!" Obviously, I don't agree with Laura's definition of 'worse', but I smile in agreement anyway.

"You know, I think you may have met my grandma," I say. "Bigoted old woman, not afraid to voice her centuries-old opinions, was in hospital about two years ago for a hip replacement?"

"Ugh, her," Laura spits, before grimacing. "Oh my god, I am SO sorry, I shouldn't speak about someone's grandmother that way!"

"No, believe me, I wish you would," I sigh. "If you're not white, English, straight, cisgendered and, most importantly of all, Tory, she thinks you're the scum of the universe."

"Ugh," Laura spits again.

"The way I see it," I say hesitantly. "If you were born a boy, but you want to be a girl, then you should be a girl." I take a deep breath before continuing- obviously Laura will agree with what I just said, but what I'm about to say might be a bridge too far... "And if you were born a girl, but you want to be a boy, then you should be a boy."

"Meh, I guess," Laura shrugs. "Don't get why ANY girl would ever want to give up all this, though!" I force out a giggle as Laura does a pirouette before tossing her head back and letting her shoulder-length hair fall in front of her face. "You'll get what I mean when your hair grows back!" Trust me, I won't, I self-pityingly think to myself as Laura and I head toward the dance studio's storage room, where our teacher is organising her costume rack.

"Oh, hey girls!" Miss Fullerton says with a smile. "Or should I say 'girlies'?"

"What's up?" I ask, instinctively reaching to give the tall blonde woman assistance in putting away her costume rack.

"Don't- don't put that away just yet," Miss Fullerton says with a sly grin.

"Ooh, I think I know what THIS is," Laura giggles.

"...What?" I ask.

"I never thought it was fair, people having their birthdays so close to Christmas," Miss Fullerton explains. "Even though it means you'll never be at school on your birthday, it also means you'll never be at MY school, and will never get to wear one of these!" I look on in horror as Miss Fullerton produces a wide, frilly pink tutu.

"Pity," I say, trying to disguise the sarcasm in my voice.

"Isn't it?" Miss Fullerton asks. "How fortunate, then, that you're in my school today, and this tutu is just begging to be worn by a birthday girl..." Oh no, I think to myself. No, no, no...

"I'm covered in paint," I argue. "I don't have my pointe shoes with me, I don't have any tights..." I sigh as Miss Fullerton throws me a towel.

"Wipe yourself down with that, I can always wash it later," Miss Fullerton says. "And I've always got spare pairs of tights and a spare pair of soft shoes for you. And it's hardly fair that you don't get to enjoy the same birthday treats as the other girls, especially as it's your sixteenth tomorrow."

"Yeah," Laura laughs. "Come on, Kayleigh-Ann!" I internally scream as Miss Fullerton hands me a pair of new pink ballet tights and a pair of soft dance slippers in my size and all but frog marches me to the new changing room. A few minutes later, I emerge from the room with the tights on my legs, the tutu covering my body and my jeans and t-shirt in a crumpled mess on the changing room floor. I force a smile on my face as Miss Fullerton 'crowns' me with a sparkly silver tiara, before posing for the assembled handful of girls and dancing a two-minute long routine, at the end of which I immediately return to the changing room to pull on my street clothes. Once I'm again dressed the way I want, I rest my forehead on the cold, tiled wall of the room and let out a long, frustrated moan.

"Shit!" I yell, fidgeting as my bra strap digs into my shoulder. Of all the clothes that I would want to wear, a fluffy pink tutu and pink tights would be dead last on the list. After composing myself, I head out into the reception area of the dance studio to find Laura staring at me with concern in her eyes.

"You okay, Kayleigh-Ann?" The young teenager asks. "You sounded kinda angry in there..."

"You- you heard that?" I ask, tensing up as Laura nods. "I, um, I just kicked myself over cocking up the steps..."

"Huh, they looked okay to me," Laura shrugs, before giggling as she sees Ollie waiting outside in his car. "Anyway, I'll let you get off, so happy birthday for tomorrow! God, I can't wait until I'm sixteen..."

"Yeah, I'm not planning on jumping into bed with my boyfriend on the stroke of midnight," I snort.

"No, not because of THAT," Laura says, rolling her eyes. "When I'm sixteen I can finally get prescribed full oestrogen, rather than this kid's dose I'm taking at the moment."

"Prescribed... From a doctor?" I ask, wincing as Laura rolls her eyes again.

"Well, duh, who else is going to prescribe it?" Laura giggles. "Looks like my mum's here so I've got to go. See you at class next year, Kayleigh-Ann!"

"Yeah, see you Laura," I say as I head out to Ollie's car, giving the bespectacled boy a kiss just in case anyone's watching.

"New friend?" Ollie asks.

"Yeah," I say. "She's the one I was telling you about a while back, the girl who used to be a boy..."

"Oh, cool, so another transgendered person you can confide in?" Ollie asks.

"If only," I sigh. "She's not so much 'pro-transsexual' as she is 'pro-girl'. Which is understandable, I guess..."

"I'm still amazed I'm the only person who knows about Ian," Ollie muses. "And even then I only found out by accident... You'd probably go through your whole life hiding the 'real you' from everyone, especially people who'd be understanding of it, like the transgendered girl you're talking about. You need to be more trusting."

"Yeah," I snort sarcastically. "And then I tell the wrong person once, just once, and it gets back to my parents and my grandmother, and all of a sudden I'm out on my arse with no support except for my own fantasy of becoming a boy."

"You'd have the support of your friends," Ollie says. "And you're sixteen tomorrow, it's not like you can't be independent if you want to. You need to- and I know the irony of this saying- you need to, well, grow a pair."

"...Thanks," I sigh. A few minutes later, Ollie pulls up outside my posh, middle-class house and I slide out of the passenger seat, giving Ollie a kiss first just in case my parents are watching from the living room window- a fear that turns out to be well-founded when I enter the house and spot both parents sat on the sofa with a perfect view of the window and the street outside.

"Hello, Kayleigh-Ann," mum says in a suspicious, eerily calm voice. "Could you go and get changed? We need to have a talk." Ah shit, I think to myself. What have I done now?

I nod and head upstairs, sighing as I exchange my comfortable jeans and t-shirt for a clingy, itchy pair of black tights and a new pair of denim shorts I bought for myself with my Christmas money (the only clothes I was actually given as Christmas presents were, of course, skirts and dresses), before pulling on a tight, long-sleeved top. Despite my short hair, when I stare in the mirror, there's no questioning the gender of the reflection staring back at me.

"My name is NOT Kayleigh-Ann," I whisper to myself as I rest my forehead on the mirror and try to forget about the tight, uncomfortable nature of my clothes. "I Am NOT a girl. My name IS Ian Freeman, I AM a boy..." I let out a long sigh and head into the bathroom to wash a few stray flakes of paint off of my hands and my face, before heading downstairs and sitting down opposite my parents.

"Kayleigh-Ann," mum says. "Tomorrow is your sixteenth birthday, and I'm sure you know that that means there will be certain... 'Things' you'll legally be allowed to do tomorrow that you aren't allowed to do today." I stare at mum as she speaks, though I keep glancing over at dad as well- is mum really having the 'sex talk' with him in the room, and is he such a wuss that he's just going to sit there in silence?

"Yes, I know what you're talking about," I say.

"What I'm trying to say," mum says more firmly, "is that just because you'll be, well, legal, and just because Ollie's older than you, it doesn't mean that you should, you know, 'take advantage' or your age at the first opportunity you get."

"I won't, I promise," I say truthfully, though inwardly I scream at the woman's sheer hypocrisy. When she was setting me up with her friends' sons, all of whom were footballers or actors, mum would constantly encourage me to 'do whatever it takes to make them like me'- and it was obvious what she meant by 'whatever'. With Ollie, she actually threatened to have him charged with statutory rape if he so much as touched me the wrong way before my sixteenth birthday.

"I- I believe you, Kayleigh-Ann," mum says with a clearly forced smile. Ever since grandma's 'intervention' a few months ago, mum's been noticeably more tolerant of my choices and more willing to believe what I say, making life at home noticeably less tense. I, of course, had to earn this trust by redoubling my efforts at ballet... And on the cheerleading team, and the drama club, and the gymnastics team.

However, it's a price that's ultimately worth paying as I head to bed for the fourth night in a row with a smile on my face and my favourite toy giraffe cuddled close to my chest rather than lodged between my teeth.

"My name is NOT Kayleigh-Ann," I whisper to myself as I close my eyes and try to get to sleep. "I am NOT a girl. My name IS Ian Freeman. I AM a boy. And you, Melman," I whisper to the stuffed toy, "are the only man who will EVER share my bed!"

I smile as I walk down the long street in my comfortable jeans and warm, snuggly sweatshirt, my short hair blowing in the gentle breeze as people walk around me, the random flashes of their cameras momentarily blinding me with every picture they take.

"Hey, stop it," I sleepily mumble as the sound of the camera grows ever louder, and the flashes ever brighter, eventually blacking out my vision entirely...

I groan as I roll over in bed and slowly open my eyes to the sound of camera shutters and the sight of camera flashes- and the presence of four unexpected and uninvited people in my bedroom.

"Happy birthday!" Abbey-Gayle yells, snapping me out of my slumber with a jolt.

"Happy birthday!" Brooke, Georgie and Ella also yell, before all four girls smother me with tight hugs.

"Oh my- what- why- what are you all doing here!?" I ask, my voice a mixture of surprise and panic.

"What, you need to ask?" Abbey-Gayle laughs, pointing to the corner of my room where a large pile of presents rests underneath four silver balloons- two in the shape of the letters 'K' And 'A', and two in the shape of the numbers '1' and '6'.

"We're, like, Angels!" Georgie giggles. "Angels spoil each other on their birthdays like, like, sisters!"

"And no pressure, but it's mine in five weeks," Brooke says as she whips off my covers. "Now come on! Presents!"

"Do- do my parents know you're here?" I tiredly ask as I'm all but dragged over to my present pile.

"It was their idea!" Ella laughs. "They're so cool, they're so behind the idea that the five of us are gonna be Angels... You're so lucky to live with them, Kayleigh-Ann." 'Lucky' isn't the word I'd use, I think to myself.

"And lucky that you've got four awesome friends who know EXACTLY what you want for your birthday!" Abbey-Gayle giggles as she thrusts my first present into my hand.

Predictably, 'lucky' isn't the word I'd use their either, as each gift I unwrap contains one feminine delight after another- nail polish, make-up, hair accessories, even some underwear that's considerably more 'intimate' than I'd ever wear, and comes with a warning from Georgie not to let Ollie see me wearing it. Which is something that I can safely say will never happen- I don't even want to see myself wearing it.

After thanking all the girls with tight hugs, I pull on my dressing gown and head downstairs, followed by all four girls (who each take one of my balloons). When I arrive in the living room, I sigh at the sight of my proud parents standing next to yet another massive pile of presents. The sigh is a happy one, as the pile truly is massive- bigger than I've ever seen on any of my previous birthdays- but it's also sad, as I know instinctively what will be inside the presents.

"Hello girls!" Mum says to my four friends, before turning her attention to me. "Happy birthday, my sixteen year old Angel!"

"Thanks, mum," I say as she gives me a tight hug.

"Though of course," mum says, "your birthday SHOULD be two days from now..." Every year, I think to myself. You'll never forgive me for not being born on January 1st 2000...

"Go on," dad says with a warm smile. "What are you waiting for?" With my parents watching on and my friends recording everything on their cameraphones, I dive into my pile of presents... And as I predicted, all my presents scream 'femininity'.

I've got new dresses, new skirts, new shoes, a new ballet leotard, make-up, jewellery, nail polish, dancing and acting books... And I want to hurl all of it, every last bit of it, on a fire. Once my last gift is opened, I'm sent upstairs to change into one of my new dresses- an admittedly cute one with a flared knee-length skirt and a square neck. With a face full of my new make-up, my feet encased in new shoes with a 3 inch heel and my fancy new jewellery, I look every bit the attractive young woman, despite my short hair.

Every second I spend looking at my reflection in the mirror causes my tension levels to grow higher and higher, to the extent that I just want to tear the dress from my body, along with my skin and every other part of me until there's nothing left. Instinctively, I reach for my stuffed giraffe, but I stop myself before putting its leg between my teeth. I've gone four days without the need for a 'release', if I can just get through today, I'll be seeing Ollie tomorrow, and I’ll be able to have some 'Ian' time...

"You'll want to wear tights with that dress, Kayleigh-Ann," Abbey-Gayle advises as I slowly stride down the stairs, unsteady in my heels.

"Why, exactly?" I ask, desperate not to wear the nasty, clingy leg coverings.

"Well, because your legs will get cold when we go out, duh!" The dark-skinned girl retorts, making me inwardly scream yet again. Go out? No one said anything about going out...

"She can change before she goes out," mum says, ushering me onto the sofa between my four friends. "I want to get a few pictures first, my little girl- well, my growing woman, I suppose- with her four friends!" I force a smile on my face as mum takes picture after picture of me in my dress and my make-up, though with every photo, the smile becomes more and more forced to the extent that it quickly becomes a grimace.

Just before lunch, I'm ordered upstairs to pull on my tights- another experience that nearly causes my giraffe's leg to disappear between my teeth- before being escorted out to a waiting taxi by my four friends. After a quick lunch, I'm taken to a salon, where my make-up is removed and reapplied professionally whilst my hair is styled to make it as feminine as it can be. By the time I arrive home just after 3:30pm, my journey from androgynous girl to beauty queen is complete... And with every step I take in my accursed shoes, I feel like I'm going to explode, as though each heel contained a land mine.

Just when I feel things can't get any worse, when I step out of the taxi, I'm greeted by a sight I'd hoped to avoid this year- the sight of my paternal grandmother's car parked outside our house. I take a deep breath before letting myself into the house- sure, grandma's always treated me as a little girl in the past, but things are different now. I'm sixteen, part-way toward becoming an adult, she surely has to recognise that...

"Hi, grandma!" I say with a warm smile, only for my smile to turn into a grimace as grandma regards me with a cold stare.

"What do you think you're doing wearing that much make-up, girl?" Grandma spits. "You look like a whore. Go upstairs and wash it off, now! And change into something more appropriate for your age!" Funny way of saying 'happy birthday', I think to myself as I feel my toes curl inside my shoes.

"Now Elaine," mum says cautiously. "She IS sixteen..."

"That's still a child," grandma says with an air of pompous arrogance that screams 'don't you dare argue with me'- and naturally, neither mum nor dad are going to dare argue. "Do you think it's appropriate for a CHILD to walk around looking like a whore?" My dress shows off less skin than yours, you old bag, I think to myself.

"Kayleigh-Ann," dad feebly mumbles. "Maybe- maybe you should go upstairs..."

"I'm going," I say, desperately trying to conceal the tired sigh in my voice. Sure enough, when I walk downstairs tem minutes later, my face has been scrubbed clean of make-up and I'm wearing my long-sleeved black dress, opaque white tights and my Mary Janes.

"There now," grandma says with a smug smile as she pinches my cheek. "Don't you look so much better? I hope you're ready for some more presents!"

"Of course!" I say with a forced smile. As bad as my presents have been so far, I know for a fact that grandma's are going to be infinitely worse- and within seconds of tearing the wrapping paper off my first present, I'm proved right.

In addition to two new Barbie dolls- which no one I know ever played with after the age of twelve- I have a new, frilly pink dress that almost makes my brain explode when I see it, as I know that I'll have to wear this dress every time grandma comes to visit in the future. The one barely acceptable present I have is a £50 gift voucher for a local clothing store, but even then I'll only be able to spend it on 'grandma-approved' clothes- and certainly nothing that a boy would wear.

After thanking grandma with a hug and a kiss on her cheek- as I'm forced to do every birthday- I sit down and patiently listen to her rant about everything she perceives as wrong with the world- which as always features immigrants, Muslims, LGBT people and, of course, Jeremy Corbyn as the main culprits. After ninety minutes, the old woman thankfully leaves- but not before I'm forced to thank her yet again for the presents I'd quite happily throw on the fire with the rest of my presents. I breathe a loud sigh of relief as the front door shuts behind the old woman, though even this action causes me to flinch as I feel my parents' presence looming behind me.

"Kayleigh-Ann," mum says sternly. "...Go and get changed into your shorts." I breathe another sigh of relief at mum's 'command'- she and grandma have never got along, which is one of very few things I have in common with my mother.

"Mum..." I say as I slowly walk up the stairs. "Why do we have to live in 1945, just because she's incapable of living in 2015?"

"That's no way to talk about your grandmother," mum retorts, her tone of voice making it clear that I've stepped over a line. "You should respect her."

"...I'm not wrong, am I?" I ask.

"No," mum concedes in a hushed tone. "No you're not. But she is your grandmother, and as long as you're her granddaughter, you will respect her. Now go and get changed." I nod and head upstairs, and the second I enter my bedroom, I reach for my giraffe toy and stick its leg between my teeth, screaming until my jaw is sore and I'm blue in the face. I happily strip off my dress and tights and pull on my trusty shorts, also pulling on one of Ollie's old t-shirts and my Arsenal baseball cap.

"My name is NOT Kayleigh-Ann," I whisper to myself, drying the tears from my eyes. "I am NOT a girl. My name IS Ian Freeman. I AM a boy. I am NOT that old hag's granddaughter, I AM her grandson. My name is NOT Kayleigh-Ann..."

After fifteen minutes of my 'mantra', I change into one of the new tops I got today, before heading downstairs for my (obviously, vegan and organic) birthday meal, before heading to bed just after 10:30pm. Literally every second of my sixteenth birthday has been a total disaster, and once again, my giraffe toy's leg ends up jammed between my teeth as I try to sleep. However, my screams fade much quicker than they did earlier in the afternoon, as I know that whilst today sucked, tomorrow will be much better, thanks to two men- Ollie, and 'Ian'.

I wake up at 7:30am on New Year's Eve, I'm that eager to get out and get around to Ollie's house. I wear as little make-up as I think I can get away with, before pulling on my usual outfit of tights, shorts and top- knowing that I won't be wearing these clothes for long.

"Have fun at Ollie's, Kayleigh-Ann," mum yells after me as I leave the house.

"Thanks," I reply, a genuine smile forming on my face.

"Just remember what we talked about!" Mum yells loud enough to be heard from the street.

"I will," I reply as I head to the nearest underground station. Not long afterward, I'm stood outside the house of my 'boyfriend', who greets me himself as I step through the front door.

"Hey, Kayleigh-Ann," Ollie says, awkwardly giving me a kiss as his parents and his sister look on. "Did you have a good birthday yesterday?"

"Like, OMG, it was the best birthday ever!" Georgie says, interrupting me before I can speak. "We got our hair done, we got makeovers..."

"Which one of you had a birthday yesterday, again?" Ollie asks, making his parents snicker at their daughter's expense.

"OMG, what-ever!" George snorts.

"It was a good day," I say. "Thanks for everything yesterday, Georgie."

"Aww!" Georgie giggles, giving me a tight hug (and shoving her brother out of the way to do so). "Can't wait for my birthday in June!"

"I assume you two will be wanting to go upstairs now?" Ollie & Georgie's dad says with a concerned look on his face.

"We will, Mr. Powell," I say.

"Well- you kids have fun," Mr. Powell responds as I and Ollie head upstairs, hand-in-hand- though he releases my hand the second I step through his bedroom door.

"Ugh," I spit as I slump down on his bed.

"Take it yesterday wasn't as good as you said?" Ollie asks.

"Every birthday's just getting worse and worse," I moan. "I swear, I am going to go mental if this keeps up..."

"Well I'll give you some space to do something to make it better," Ollie chuckles, leaving the room. I take a long, deep breath before stripping off my shorts, top and tights and pulling on the jeans and t-shirt provided for me. I cough loudly to let Ollie know he can re-enter the room, and he greets me with our now-traditional fist bump before handing me a videogame controller and heavily laying down on his bed.

"Alright mate?" Ollie asks with a laugh as I also heavily lay down on his bed.

"Alright!" I laugh.

"Probably not a good idea to crash on the bed like that," Ollie sighs. "You know what dad was thinking when he said 'have fun'..."

"Well, there's no danger of THAT happening," I say smugly. "Now game on."

"Game on," Ollie says, and I relax as the game loads and I while away the next four hours blasting away at aliens, eating pizza and drinking full-fat coke. As always, though, the time comes for me to step out of my 'fantasy' and return to reality, and as always, when I'm pulling 'Kayleigh-Ann's clothes back on, I feel the scream building and building within me.

Fortunately, Ollie drives me home, so I don't have to face the indignity of kissing him in front of his sister, but when we arrive back at my home, the presence of my parents in the living room mean that once again, my lips lock with Ollie's. After a few second, though, I feel his hand start to wander onto my belly, before slowly creeping underneath my shirt...

"Mmph!" I yell, quickly reaching a state of utter panic. "What the fuck are you doing, Ollie?"

"I- I'm sorry," Ollie says, confused by my reaction. "Didn't you like that?"

"No, I didn't fucking well like it!" I spit.

"You're sixteen now," Ollie says. "Your parents are going to expect you- to expect us- to become sexually active now that you're legal."

"Well they can expect whatever they want to expect," I say, lowering my top and fidgeting from discomfort. "As far as we're concerned, we kiss only to keep up appearances, and as far as you're concerned, any part of my body that can take 'lady' on the front is off-limits, okay?"

"Umm, okay, I guess," Ollie says.

"I'll see you later," I say, exiting the car and taking several deep breaths to clear my head. Ollie isn't wrong in what he says, obviously- all of my friends, both at school and in Abbey-Gayle's gang, are sexually active, and they'll expect me to be the same way, but for Ollie to act the way he did really makes me question whether or not I picked the right 'confidante'.

I collapse heavily on the sofa as I walk through the front door, barely paying attention as mum sits down in a chair opposite me.

"Your friend Abbey-Gayle called while you were out," mum says. "She's hosting a New Year's Eve party, and it'd be good if you could go to it."

"I'm exhausted," I moan.

"Nonetheless, you should go," mum says, making it clear to me that I WILL be attending the party tonight. "There will be plenty of attractive young men there..."

"I've already got a boyfriend," I say, even as the memory of Ollie's 'advance' makes me shiver.

"You never know, you might find a better one at the party," mum says. "I'll take you to the party at 9pm. Make sure you're wearing something a bit better than those shorts, Kayleigh-Ann."

"Will do," I sigh.

"And Kayleigh-Ann?" Mum asks in a concerned tone.

"...Yes?" I reply, confused by her sudden mood change.

"Abbey-Gayle will probably be serving alcohol at the party," mum says.

"I doubt it, she's only seventeen herself," I reply.

"Well she is mature for her age," mum retorts, making me internally roll my eyes. "Just make sure you take care of yourself, try not to drink TOO much." I nod, even though I have no intention of drinking anything tonight.

Nonetheless, at precisely 9:05pm, I find myself stood in Abbey-Gayle's packed front room wearing a short, fashionable dress and thick make-up, and clutching a bottle filled with a strong-smelling alcoholic drink in my left hand.

"Oh my god!" Brooke yells in my ear, and it's almost as though I can hear the alcohol on her breath. "I am SO wasted already!" That's because you're also only sixteen, and even smaller than I am, I think to myself. I turn around to face Brooke, who's accompanied by Georgie and both their boyfriends, and I can't help but snort- their boyfriends are here, but mine obviously didn't get an invitation... Not that that's entirely a bad thing, considering what happened earlier today.

"Like, this is SO an awesome party!" Georgie giggles as she takes a sip of her drink, whilst her boyfriend grabs a generous handful of her left buttock. I almost envy Georgie, the way she's comfortable around her boyfriend, the way she's comfortable being mauled like a piece of meat... Things would be so much easier if I was just able to accept who I was- but I know I'll never be able to do that. No as long as I'm wearing a dress, anyway...

"I know!" I say, taking a long, deep swig of my drink. Maybe if I'm drunk, I might enjoy the situation more...

"Take it easy with the drink, Kayleigh-Ann!" Brooke giggles. "You just turned sixteen, you don't want to get TOO wasted- not yet, anyway!" Brooke giggles drunkenly as Andrew- her boyfriend, and the younger brother of reality TV star Viks Brooks- playfully nibbles at her neck. Not wanting to be shown up, Georgie practically forces her neck into the mouth of her boyfriend Marley- who is also the younger brother of a reality TV star, in this case, our dance teacher Krystie.

I have no doubt whatsoever that neither Brooke or Georgie would have looked twice at either Andrew or Marley if they weren't related to someone famous- neither of them are especially good-looking, Andrew is at least a stone overweight whilst Marley stands six feet two inches tall (not counting his ridiculous quiff), and as such towers over Georgie, even when she's wearing her suicidially high heeled shoes. Nonetheless, both girls have professed their undying love for the two young men, both of whom were only too happy to accept.

"I think we're making Kayleigh-Ann jealous!" Brooke giggles, shaking herself free of Andrew's clutches. "Go and get us some drinks, boys?" Georgie and Brooke giggle as the boys march off, returning a little while later with more bottles of drinks, which Brooke, Georgie and I quickly down, leaving me feeling very unsteady on my feet.

"OMG, let's dance!" Georgie drunkenly giggles, grabbing Marley's hand and dragging him onto the dancefloor whilst gesturing that Brooke, Andrew and I should join her. However, after only my second drink, dancing is the absolute last thing I want to do right now.

"Umm, I think Kayleigh-Ann's doesn't feel like dancing," Brooke says with a sympathetic giggle, leading me away from the noise and the crowd to a quiet area of the room. "Andrew, get us a glass of tap water, would you?" The dark-haired young man nods as I sit down with Brooke's assistance and several deep breaths to try to clear my head.

"I told you to take it easy with the drink," Brooke chuckles, the alcohol clearly affecting her own mood.

"I know," I sigh, prompting a sad smile from the brown-haired girl.

"Missing Ollie?" Brooke asks, and after a few seconds' worth of jumbled thoughts, I nod.

"So unfair that your boyfriends are here and he isn't," I sigh.

"It's Abbey-Gayle's party, she invites who she wants," Brooke shrugs. "She'll get to like Ollie eventually."

"Yeah, but will she get to like Ian?" I think to myself.

"Who- who's Ian?" Brooke asks. Shit, I think. Did I just say that out loud?

"Umm..." I mumble. Damned alcohol...

"Kayleigh-Ann..." Brooke asks with concern in her voice. "Have- have you been sneaking around behind Ollie's back?"

"Umm..." I say, my panic building. Obviously, I can't tell Brooke who Ian REALLY is... And it's not like I'm cheating on Ollie as, well, it's not like I'm really dating him... A little white lie here couldn't hurt, right?

"Promise you won't tell Georgie?" I plead.

"Oh my god!" Brooke spits. "Who even is he!?"

"...One of Ollie's friends," I mumble.

"Oh. My. God!" Brooke says with a voice of utter contempt. "Kayleigh-Ann, you seriously know NOTHING about boys!" Yeah, keep thinking that, I think.

"Leave me alone," I moan.

"Well- ugh," Brooke sighs. "When it blows up in your face, don't say I didn't tell you so."

"Please promise you won't tell Georgie?" I repeat. "You know how annoying she can be..." Ah shit, I think with a grimace. I said that out loud too...

"Oh believe me, I know," Brooke giggles. "And I promise I won't tell Georgie about ANYTHING you just said. You have my word." I smile as Brooke gives me a quick hug and Andrew returns with a much-needed glass of water, which helps to clear my head and settle my very upset stomach. Nonetheless, I still feel like shit as the clock strikes midnight, symbolising the start of the New Year, and virtually everyone present turns to their significant other and gives them a long, deep kiss. Whilst I'm not envious of the kissing, it does serve to remind me of just how much I don't belong- not just to my social group, but to my entire gender.

Ninety minutes and three more alcoholic drinks later, I'm bundled into a taxi and dropped off back at my home, where I stumble straight to bed and quickly fall into a deep sleep, trying desperately to forget all about the party- especially my accidental 'outing' of Ian.

When I wake up the following morning, my entire face feels like it weighs a ton, and the mere act of rolling over in bed takes all my strength and leaves me feeling like I'm about to throw up everything I've eaten for a week.

"Aww," mum coos as she looks down on me in my bed. "My little girl's first hangover... You really are growing up, aren't you?"

"You're the one who wants me to get older faster," I moan, before again inwardly cursing my inability to think before I speak.

"I want you to enjoy your childhood, Kayleigh-Ann," mum retorts in a firm voice that causes me to recoil in pain. "Just because you're sixteen- well, sixteen years and two days, I guess..." That's another new year when I'm reminded that today should be my birthday, I think to myself. "...It doesn't mean you should go and get drunk every chance you get. I did warn you about drinking too much..."

"You're also the one who insisted I go to the party," I say.

"Indeed I am," mum concedes. "In the hope that you'd find a new love for a boy, not a new love for booze! Still, I suppose, the sooner you build up a tolerance to it... I've brought you a cup of black coffee. Want me to leave it on your nightstand?"

"Please," I sigh.

"Next party, try not to get so drunk," mum advises as she leaves. "Most young men tend to steer clear of girls- even ones as attractive as you- if they're falling down drunk all over the place."

"Thanks, mum," I moan, before breaking down in tears as pain and despair overwhelm me.

Despite grandma's 'intervention' a few months ago, I'm no closer to being a boy, to being 'Ian' now than I was way back then. Mum still decides how I live my life, even if she's less overt about it that she was before. I still spend all day every day either being a schoolgirl, or being a gymnast wearing a skin-tight leotard, or being a cheerleader wearing a skirt that barely covers my bum... And now I'm going to spend every evening wearing stupid dresses and too much make-up, having to flirt with guys I hate at parties I don't want to go to.

As I stare at my ultra-feminine body in my mirror, my stress levels once again go into overdrive and my stuffed giraffe's leg once again goes between my teeth. I scream so long I actually do make myself sick, barely making it to the bathroom before puking my guts up and breaking down in another flood of tears. I return to my bedroom and drink down my coffee, but that doesn't do anything to cure my stress- there's only one remedy for that.

"Hello?" Ollie asks as he answers his phone. "Kayleigh-Ann?"

"Ian," I say firmly, despite the fact that my face is still covered in last night's make-up and I'm still wearing the same dress I slept in.

"Umm, okay, if you say so," Ollie says, making me roll my eyes. "I'm kinda not alone right now, Georgie's here, so are my family... What's up?"

"I need Ian," I say. "I need him right now."

"Like I said, I'm with my family today, I can't really get away," Ollie says with an audible grimace.

"I don't care," I say. "Make an excuse. Come round here if you have to. I just need to be Ian, and I need to be him right now because I don't know how much more I can take of this, I really don't."

"Whoa, slow down," Ollie says, before lowering his voice. "Take a few deep breaths... What's brought this on all of a sudden?"

"Last night," I say. "That stupid fucking party... It's going to be the first of many, I know it is."

"Probably," Ollie says. "You're lucky you got invited to it..."

"Have you listened to a single fucking word I've said?" I hiss. "I would have given anything- literally anything- to have been somewhere, anywhere else. I want- I NEED to get away. To be Ian. And you need to help me."

"Even though you're supposed to be sneaking around my back with this supposed 'Ian' character?" Ollie asks, making me growl in frustration.

"Oh, Brooke, you sneaky cunt," I hiss. "That's another person I CAN'T trust to keep a secret, then. I take it you heard that from Georgie?"

"Who else?" Ollie sighs. "She's been rubbing my face in it all morning..."

"I know she's your sister and all," I say, "but I'll happily lump Georgie in with Brooke as people I'd call the C-word."

"Most days, I'll happily go along with you," Ollie sighs. "Okay, I've managed to sneak back to my bedroom so I'm alone now, but I really don't think my family are going to give us any 'Ian time', not today anyway."

"It- gah, okay, fine," I sigh. "You know, just talking has kinda helped, I don't feel the overwhelming urge to skin myself anymore..."

"You know what else would help?" Ollie asks.

"If you say 'sex', I swear I'll take a knife and see how you like being a woman," I say, making Ollie chuckle.

"No, you've made your feelings quite clear about that," Ollie says with an audible twinge of sadness in his voice. "I mean talking to someone, a professional, a counsellor. I've been doing some reading on the internet, virtually every transgendered person sees a counsellor at some point during their transition."

"How am I meant to afford a counsellor on my pocket money?" I retort.

"Because you live in England and we have this thing called the NHS," Ollie says. "Talk to your GP- they're bound by doctor-patient confidentiality, so they can't tell your parents- get them to refer you to a specialist. You never know, you may even be able to come out to your parents and live as Ian full-time."

"That would be a dream come true," I sigh. "But there's no way my parents would ever accept 'Ian'. Hell, they don't even accept you..."

"Yeah, I had noticed," Ollie says. "But talk to a counsellor anyway. They can also prescribe hormone treatments..." Like the ones Laura was talking about a few days ago, I think to myself. I return to my mirror and take another long look at myself, at the girl I am. My breasts are firm, my waist narrow, my limbs slender and my hips wide. My hair- whilst short- is thick and luxurious and my skin is baby smooth.

...And every part of it feels like a living hell. And yet, testosterone would make it all go away. Muscles would grow and hair would sprout from my face and all over my body. My voice would deepen, my waist would begin to widen, and- most importantly of all- I would no longer get the monthly reminders that I am a slave to my own anatomy.

"Ian?" Ollie asks. "Ian? You still there?"

"Yeah," I say with a smile as I look in the mirror and look past the make-up, past the dress and past the 'cute' face to see the boy underneath, the boy I truly am. "Yeah, Ian's still here."

"Still coming over tomorrow?" Ollie asks. "My family will be gone by then, plenty of opportunity for 'Ian time'. And on Sunday too, if you want."

"I'll be there," I say. "As long as you promise not to grope me again!"

"Ugh, why would I want to grope another boy?" Ollie asks, eliciting a rugged, manly chuckle from me.

"Promise you won't grope 'Kayleigh-Ann', then?" I ask.

"I promise," Ollie sighs. "As long as you also promise to call your GP at some point in the New Year."

"It's a deal," I say. "Mate!"

"See you tomorrow, mate!" Ollie laughs as he hangs up the phone, leaving me feeling rejuvenated, even though I am still- outwardly at least- Kayleigh-Ann, the ultra-girly girl.

The following two days, as promised, Ollie helps me to shed all my femininity and enjoy a long, relaxing day eating pizza and playing videogames as Ian, and as promised, Ollie keeps his hands to himself, only giving me the obligatory goodbye kisses to keep up appearances (and to frustrate his sister).

Despite Ollie's advice, I don't call my GP- not immediately, anyway- but I do intensify my research into the process of gender transitioning, which yields one very important piece of information- that I can start to transition fully once I've passed the age of sixteen. I keep this information in the back of mind even as I start back at school, wearing the same skirt and the same tights as the other girls, much as I've done for the past eleven years. Every time my anxiety would grow due to a ballet class, or a gymnastics or cheerleading session, I'd fall back on the knowledge that I could see my GP whenever I wanted and request to see a counsellor, from whom I could request testosterone... Even though it would mean my parents would certainly kick me out on my backside.

And when the tension and anxiety does get too great, I have an option other than my GP- I can always call Ollie. Our chat on New Year's morning would prove to be the first of many chats of that nature, in which I'd vent my frustrations and he'd help me talk through my issues, help me look in the mirror and see the boy I truly am and remind me that there are people out there willing to be 'Ian's friend... People out there who do actually love me, the 'real' me.

As I would come to learn, however, such love would always come with a price.