In early May, Father Gordon figured out that the new girl coming to Mass with my mom was me, George Antonelli. He reamed my mother out for encouraging her son to be homosexual, threw her out of St. Vincent de Paul, and me out of confirmation class. Mrs. Linden, the president of St. Vincent, came to our house to apologize and told us about a more understanding priest, Father Rodrigues, in an adjacent parish. As it turned out, I got confirmed before the kids in my parish because confirmation in there was early June.

Mom and I found a pattern for a flower girl dress. I made it with her help. So, I wore a gorgeous white dress and mom's pearl drop earrings and necklace to the ceremony. Father Rodrigues suggested I pick Francis as my confirmation name so the bishop wouldn't have heartburn. My confirmation certificate said “George Richard Francis Antonelli,” because George Richard is how I was baptized. That was fine with me, because I didn't plan to be a girl forever.

Once school let out, I tried to earn money babysitting, but after a couple of jobs, word spread that I wasn't really a girl. Most parents didn't want to hire me. I guess they thought I would turn their baby boys into sissies and do who knows what with their daughters. I had even less success trying to make money mowing lawns.

That was not my only problem. After graduation, Mr. Kowalski's threats no longer protected me from Joe Valdez and his gang, who tried to make my life as miserable as possible without running afoul of the law. It was hard to steer completely clear of them because whenever I needed to buy something, I had to go to the Quik Stop – one of the gang's favorite haunts. Mr. Pierce, the manager, didn't tolerate bullying inside, but what happened outside was beyond his control.

The gang regularly called me a fag and made obscene suggestions while exposing themselves. I thought that's what they were, because they wanted sex with a boy, while I had no interest in them. I tried to avoid them by taking different routes. One day I spotted them coming down the block, so I ducked into an alley to avoid them. That was a mistake because they came down both ends of the alley and trapped me. Two of them twisted my arm behind me and forced me to kneel. Gravel and broken glass cut into my knees. Joe stood in front of me and unzipped his fly. I screamed in pain, but it was hopeless because no one could see that was happening. Trash barrels and board fences blocked the view in all directions.

Just then an old man burst trough his alley gate yelling something I didn't understand. He was armed with a garden fork leveled at the boys. They broke and ran. I was on my knees sobbing. He took my hand and gently helped me up, escorting me into his house. His name was George Washington Johnson. He called the police. While we waited, he washed and bandaged my knees. As he worked, he recounted how he had bayoneted a man in Viet Nam, and hoped he'd never have to do it again. Still, he was ready to this time. I thanked him profusely, but didn't say I was boy.

When the police came, I told them who did it. Since Mr. Johnson hadn't seen their faces, he could not collaborate my identification. So, there wasn't enough evidence to charge them. When I got home, Judy suggested that I call Lieutenant Lane and tell her what happened. She came over and was very nice. Even though there wasn't enough evidence, she arrested the gang and held them over night. She hinted that she'd tell the 43s that they liked sex with boys if they ever bothered me again. They didn't, but then, I didn't go to the Quik Stop again.

I made an apple pie, and mom and I took it to Mr. Johnson to thank him. We sat and talked a while as he showed us his photo album. He had 4 children, but none of them lived close. I said I would write him when I got to Braintree and tell him how I was getting along.

I heard later that Joe Valdez succeeded in making a 7th grader do what he wanted me to do. The kid was the younger brother of one of the 43s. Joe was shot and barely survived.

Even though I didn't go to the Quik Stop anymore, I did have the courage to go to Judy's house. We spent a lot of time together. She liked the dresses I'd made and asked if Id make her a couple to take to Braintree in the fall. We looked at patterns on line and I sketched some changes to make them unique. Judy had babysitting money, so we took the bus to the fabric store, where we picked out fabrics and bought the base pattern. Mrs. Myers had an old Singer. So, after a couple of false starts and two weeks cutting, fitting and sewing, Judy had two new dresses. She said, “They look better than any I've seen in stores.” She was just being nice, but I was happy she liked them.

Roz also liked the dresses and got her mother to pay me $30.00 to make her one. Soon I was making simple dresses for little girls in the neighborhood. I managed to save $352.57 by the time I left for Braintree.

Mom thought of getting me breast forms for my birthday, but couldn't afford any worth buying. She got me a prepaid phone to take to Braintree and a salon appointment instead. At the salon, I got a style with super bouncy tousled curls the lady said would show off my earrings. (I forget to mention it, but I kind of fell in love with earrings, and had quite a collection.) Anyway, the large curls and casual look was easy to care for and the style fit my face. I looked like a girl even in what was left of my boys' clothes.

The salon also did my nails super smooth and shiny. The nail lady showed me how to use nail stickers. I got butterflies, flowers and feather patterns. They made my nails look so cute! And, I could change the patterns to fit my moods.

I saw John a few times, but it was not like before. A couple of weeks before I was to go to Braintree, he brought his new boyfriend, Sandy, over to introduce him. Sandy was in John's grade – a very shy and feminine redhead with long, wavy hair. I liked him – especially since he and John got along so well. I was so happy for John, I kissed them both. I sent John to the Quik Stop to get slushies and took Sandy to my room to show off my dresses. He spent a lot of time looking at them, but said he wasn't ready to try them – yet. I said he should, as John liked boys in dresses. Sandy blushed. He did try mascara and a natural shade of lipstick. John was very pleased when he came back with our slushies.

John had come out to his parents. His mom was pretty accepting, but his dad was quiet. Finally, his dad said “You're my son and I'll always love you,' and “I'm proud of the courage you showed in being who God made you.”

We talked until we finished our slushies, but John had promised to take Sandy to the movies, so they had to leave. As they were going, Sandy asked if he could come over by himself the next day. Of course, I said yes.

The next day Sandy came over, and I served him some iced tea.

“What did you want to do?”

He seemed tongue tied.

“Do you want to ask me something?”

“Ah … I liked it,” he said quietly.

“It?”

“Wearing make up. Mommy said I looked pretty.”

“Oh. Did you want to try it again?”

“No! … I mean yes, … but I'd like to talk first.”

“OK.”

“I mean, when I had it on, I felt … I mean it was exciting … but … I don't know how to say it. It made me feel less knotted up. Like I wasn't fighting myself. Is that how you feel wearing dresses?”

“Dresses and me is complicated. I mean, I like how they look and feel, but I don't think I was fighting myself before I started wearing them – or maybe I was – I was trying to act more like a boy than I felt.”

“I have been too! That's just it. Acting more like a boy than I felt! Wearing make up made me feel more like me.”

“I'm glad. Would you like to try my makeup again?”

“No. I'm going to buy my own.”

“OK. I have a makeup book my mom got me. I'm done with it. Would you like it?”

“Thanks, Mel!” he said enthusiastically.

“Yesterday, you said you weren't ready to try my dresses yet. Do you want to now?”

“May I? I mean just one – my mom expects me home soon. The sailor skirt is so cute, could I try it?”

“Sure, but to really get the full effect, you need the underwear as well.”

“Like panties and a bra?”

“What else!” I went to my dresser. “Here's a set my friend Judy gave me when I started. I wear larger bras now, so you can have it. You can change here or in the bathroom.”

“Would you mind if I put it on here? I'd feel more like were were girls together.”

“OK.”

Sandy was shy, but still changed in front of me. He had a slim, girlish body.

“I can't get the bra hooked.”

“Here, I'll do it. Next time you can hook it in front, then turn it around.”

“Oh.”

“Also you need to push your self back so you don't have a bump in front.” In truth, there wasn't much of a bump. “Look in the mirror.”

“I look like a girl, except for my hair.”

“I'll brush it for you.” I parted it I the middle, brushed her bangs forward, and used barrettes to hold it in place.

“This blouse goes with the skirt. … Now step into the skirt and tuck your blouse in … Here, I'll tie the scarf for you. … What do you think?”

“Oh, Mel!” Sandy started crying.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing! Oh thank you!” She kissed me and hugged me.

I hugged her back.

“I wish I could wear this home.”

“It's not safe, dear, especially in this neighborhood … but you can wear the panties and training bra … your shirt is loose enough to hide it.”

“Oh may I, Mel?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Oh dear! Look at the time! Mommy will be upset.”

I helped Sandy out of my sailor set. She left in her boy clothes. Her training bra was only visible if you knew she had it on.

Sandy came over a number of times in the following weeks, sometimes with John, but often alone. We'd talk about clothes, how dreamy John was, and her mother's growing acceptance of her feminine self. She never wore a skirt over, but by August was regularly in girls' pants and blouses. We became good friends.

I got a letter at the beginning of August about traveling to Braintree. Freshmen were allowed one storage box, one suitcase, a carry-on bag, and a purse. No appliances other than a clock and/or radio were allowed. The rooms already had a small refrigerator and microwave. There was a list of recommended clothes and personal items. Parents were welcome for Thanksgiving weekend. Other than that, we wouldn't see them until Christmas break. My mom had to sign a consent form for my care.

There were two supplements: one for scholarship students, and one for transgendered students.

In addition to full tuition and room and board, scholarship students received school uniforms, full medical coverage, a tablet with a removable keyboard, and a weekly stipend for miscellaneous expenses.

Transgendered students were not to bring male clothing. We would be picked up by a school van August 24th for a week of special orientation. My pick up time was 11:00 AM. Lunch and dinner would be provided en route.

On the 24th I kissed my mother good bye before she left for work, and waited nervously for the van. The letter said to dress casually. I wore violet shorts and a lavender tank top as I wasn't sure if the van had AC. As 11:00 passed I got more nervous, but at 11:03. the van pulled up in front. A tall lady, who turned out to be Ms. Kelvin, the basketball coach, came to the door and helped me load my stuff into the van. She asked if I had forgotten my box. I didn't have one as all my stuff fit in my luggage.

Three other girls were already in the van were, one of whom was sprawled out taking a nap. Since the only empty seat was up front, I rode shotgun. Ms. Kelvin introduced us. Casey and Paula were in the middle seat, while the sleepyhead in the back was Pattie. Pattie was in denim shorts, a white sleeveless top and paisley sneakers. Casey and Paula both wore pencil skirts and strappy heels. The difference was that Casey had a red embroidered top while Paula had a cute print top with a crocheted yoke. They paid little attention to me, giggling about something on their phones.

I was the last pick up, so it didn't take long to get on the interstate and be out of town. I'd never been out of town before, so the scenery was fascinating. Of course I knew what farm animals looked like, but I'd never seen real ones. After a while we got into a more wooded area and there was a yellow diamond sign with a deer on it.

“Will we be able to see deer here, Ms. Kelvin?”

“Probably not dear, they mostly come out at dawn and dusk.”

“Have you ever seen one?”

“Yes, lots. You will too, they come on the Braintree grounds most evenings in the Fall and Spring. You'll be able to see them – and fawns too, in the Spring.”

“The pictures in the catalog are beautiful. Is Braintree really that lovely?”

“Most of the girls think so. Of course, at first you may be too homesick to enjoy it.”

“Are all the teachers as easy to talk to as you, Ms. Kelvin?”

“Well, not all of them. Still, most of the girls get on well enough.”

After that she started asking about me, and what I did over the summer. I didn't tell her everything. I said how babysitting didn't work out because a lot of parents didn't want “a boy in a dress” watching their children, but that I finally made some money sewing.

“May I see some of the things you sewed later? I have a hard time getting things that fit because I'm so tall and thin. If I like your work, I might ask you to sew something for me.”

“I don't mind showing you, but I think I won't have a lot of time for dressmaking with all the courses I'll be taking.”

“Of course, Mel. How thoughtless of me.”

About 12:30 we came to a small town with a little restaurant.

“I stopped here for dinner last night. The food was delicious – all home made.”

We all got out and I introduced myself to Pattie. She was quite tall, maybe 5' 10” or 11”, and masculine looking. Understandably, she was shy.

Casey and Paula continued to be standoffish, so I chatted with Pattie as we waited for a table.

“What's with them?” I asked.

“They were very unimpressed when they saw your house. They live in mansions,” she said in a husky voice.

“Oh?”

“Yes, I was the first one picked up – at 6:30 this morning. So, I saw where they lived.”

“And what kind of house do you live in?”

“A regular one. My grandmother is wealthy and went to Braintree, so she is paying for me to go. My parents are glad to get rid of me. I'm an embarrassment. I don't want to be a boy and I'm too big to be a girl.”

“I know some tall girls, Pattie.”

“That's nice of you to say, sweetie. Still, look at my face. It's not the least bit feminine.”

I did look at it – thinking of what I'd learned in my makeup book. “I think the problem is makeup. You're not very good at it.”

“No one ever taught me. Are you a make up artist?”

“Hardly! I just read about it and helped a boy I know. If you're willing, I could try to help you a bit.”

“I'm in no position to turn down help, Mel.”

Just then we were seated. There were a lot of things on the menu I'd never seen, so I tried cat fish and okra. Pattie had country fried steak and green beans with bacon. She let me have a taste. It was good. Casey and Paula turned up their noses at the menu and just had vegetable soup and a salad. Ms. Kelvin ate a double portion of meat loaf, mashed potatoes and collard greens.

I continued to chat with Pattie, while Ms. Kelvin tried to talk to Casey and Paula. They more or less ignored her. I was beginning to dislike them.

Pattie leaned over and said, “Don't be too hard on them. Their parents were happier to get rid of them than mine were to dump me. I could tell by how they said good bye.”

I began to realize just how lucky I was. I'd trade a mansion for my mom any day.

When we got back in the van, I asked Ms. Kelvin if she'd stop at the Walmart we'd seen so I could get some things. It wouldn't take more than 10 minutes. She agreed even though it meant going back a mile or two. There was nothing Casey or Paula would want in a Walmart so, they stayed in the van when Ms. Kelvin, Pattie and I went in.

I dragged Pattie to cosmetics and selected inexpensive makeup in tones matching his complexion. I wanted to pay for them, but Pattie wouldn't hear of it. While we were arguing, Ms. Kelvin paid the cashier.

Soon, we were on the road again. I sat in the back experimenting with Pattie's makeup. I found that a dab of mascara could create shadows giving her face feminine contours. When she saw the result in my compact mirror tears streaked her mascara.

It was almost 11:00 when a change in rhythm woke us. We'd turned off the expressway. A few miles down a country lane a stone and wrought iron gateway on our right proclaimed “Braintree Academy.” We turned in. The entry lighting was subdued, so we saw little before arriving at a colonial style brick building. Mrs. Robertson, a matronly woman, came out to greet us.

“You must all be tired. Just grab your carryons and purses, and I'll show you your rooms. The rest of your things will be delivered to you later. The wake up bell will be delayed until 7:00 to let up sleep in. Breakfast will be at 7:45. Orientation starts at 8:30.”

She showed Casey and me to the first room.

“I think Casey would rather share with Paula, and I'd rather be with Pattie. Would that be OK, Mrs. Robinson?”

Casey gave me a grateful smile, and Pattie perked up as well.

“I don't see why not. These won't be your permanent rooms.”

“Thank you so much.”

I called my mom. Leaving a message that I'd arrived safely. Pattie and I said little as we brushed our teeth, donned our nities and crawled into bed.

A very loud, annoying bell broke my dream about feeding deer on the lawn. I looked out and saw a campus of manicured grass and mature oaks, crisscrossed by walks and surrounded by colonial buildings. Two or three women were walking on the quad. We had an en suite bath, so it didn't take long to shower and dress. Pattie had a little stubble and was shaving when I finished.

“Do you have time to do my makeup, Mel? I really liked what you did yesterday.”

“Yes, but you'd better pay attention so you can do it yourself next time.” I was hungry and didn't want to miss breakfast. I did a rush job, but still told her what I was doing and why.

“Thank you ever so much. I could kiss you.”

“Maybe later, I'm hungry now,” I smiled.

Breakfast was a medley of fresh fruit, an egg, and two pancakes with coffee, tea and or milk. Later we found that all the meals were portion controlled and would be tailored to our individual diets once they were established.

There were six girls at the table. Besides Pattie, Casey, Paula and me, there were Cyndie and Jane. Cyndie was small like me, strawberry blond and very cute. Jane had glossy black hair, was a bit heavy, and her V-neck revealed amazing cleavage. Both were quiet throughout the meal.

When we were done, Mrs. Robinson announced that special orientation would begin at 8:30 in room 105 of the main building and asked us to bus our dishes to a conveyor belt that disappeared into the kitchen. Shorts or pants would be “inappropriate,” so Pattie, Jane and I returned to our rooms to change. I tried to warm Jane up by telling her how much I liked her hair. She thanked me politely.

After changing into skirts, Pattie and I started for the main building. Jane emerged a few yards behind us, so we waited.

“Isn't this a beautiful campus, Jane?”

“I suppose, for a girls' school.”

“You sound like you don't want to be here.”

“My mother's is making me. I have gynecomastia, so she makes me wear a bra and dress like a girl. I said it wasn't right. She said that girls' clothes were designed to fit breasts. Since God gave me breasts, She must want me to wear girls' clothes.”

I'd never heard God called “She” before, but let it pass. “So, she's really religious?”

“No, she just uses God to win arguments. Anyway, since I wore girls' clothes already, when she read about the scholarship, she told me to apply.”

“So you don't want to be a girl?” asked Pattie.

“What choice do I have? I'm a 38C.”

“Well, you could have an operation.”

“Like my parents would spring for that!”

“Doesn't your dad want you to be a boy?”

“Maybe, but not enough to butt heads with my mom. She rules the roost.”

“Oh, that's rough!” said Pattie.

I agreed.

“Besides, everyone at my old school called me names. I'm hoping people will be nicer here.”

“We will,” we both said.

By then we'd found room 105. It was a small classroom with a large table instead of desks. It was called “the seminar room.” At the head of the table was a smartly dressed woman in her late 50s. Some other women sat in chairs behind her.

“Good morning, girls, I am Sarah Wright-Jones, headmistress of Braintree Academy. I want to welcome each of you special girls to our school. You will learn more about our school, its history, rules and customs next week at freshmen orientation. Today we are gathered to deal with topics that only concern you who are new to our gender. For the majority of you, most of what we need to do will only take a day and a half, so you will be able to relax and enjoy the facilities – more about them later. It will take a few days for your test results and some of you may require more assistance in fitting in at Braintree. That is why a full week has been scheduled.

“Most of our staff is still on summer leave, so your orientation will be handled by Ms. Wilkins, our capable basketball coach, Ms. Snyder, our nurse, and Dr. Koebler, our staff psychologist. You have already met Mrs. Robertson, one of our dormitory supervisors.” Each of the women stood briefly as her name was mentioned.

“You will begin by going to Le Magasin. our campus store, located in the basement of this building, to be fitted for, and issued, school uniforms. Uniforms are to be worn to all campus functions unless you are explicitly told otherwise. The normal exceptions are physical education and dance, where you will dress as required by your instructors. You will report back here at 9:30 in your uniforms.

“Any questions?”

There were none.

We went downstairs to Le Magasin, which was a combination bookstore, convenience store and boutique. We lined up and were led, one by one, into the fitting area, where we were met by nurse Snyder.

“Take off your blouse and bra, dear. I need to decide what to do about your titties, sweetie.”

“About my titties?”

“Yes, your breasts dear.”

“I know what titties are. I was just wondering what you are going to do about them?”

“Oh. Most special girls your age are underdeveloped, so I need to see how you're developing and decide what size chest would best suit you.”

“Oh,” I said blushing.

“Mrs. Robertson can't measure you for your uniforms until you're properly sized.” She probed my breasts with her fingers. “You haven't started hormones yet?”

“No,” I said. I hadn't even imagined hormones, but I wasn't sure I should say so.

“Until you grow your own, I think a B-cup breasts would look lovely. You're getting older. You don't want to be behind the other girls, do you?”

“I guess not.”

“This may be a bit cold.” She washed my chest with alcohol, then glued on breast forms. “Hold them in place for two minutes, then report to Mrs. Robertson.”

I was shocked to be the sudden owner of two rather heavy tits. Seeing myself topless in in the fitting room mirror made me feel I was sliding down a slope.

As I stood cupping my new breasts Nurse Snyder started on Pattie. It didn't take her long to decide that D-cups would feminize Pattie's large frame. Pattie was thrilled. I was wasn't sure I could deal with the four or five pounds lready pulling at my chest. So, I was quite happy I only had Bs.

Once the glue set, Mrs. Robertson showed me how to use makeup to hide the breast forms' edges. While she was applying it, the pull on my chest was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. When she finally helped me into a beautiful satin and lace bra, I was grateful for the support it provided.

After a few more measurements, she had me step into a padded girdle. “Pull this up. You'll need to wear padding until your hips develop.” Next, I was given, a pleated navy skirt with a belt and side buttons, a matching blazer, and navy pumps with 2” heels. My skirt came to mid thigh and was called “a scooter” for some reason. “Your other uniforms will be in your room when you get back,” she said before attending to Pattie.

I looked around Le Magasin while I waited for Pattie. It sold almost everything a girl could want: beautiful, if conservative, lingerie; expensive cosmetics; sanitary supplies; even a small selection of jewelry. The snack area had dried fruit, fat-free pop corn and diet drinks.

When Pattie came out, she looked every inch a girl – except for wobbling on her heels. “I never wore heels cuz I'm already too tall.”

“You'll learn. Come over to the mirror, I want you to see how beautiful you are.” She was. In fact, she was the girl of my fantasies – big and strong and able to take care of me. I had to remind myself that she was a boy underneath. I remembered John and decided to watch my fantasies.

We still had fifteen minutes, so I took Pattie's arm and helped her practice walking on the quad. Jane joined us once she was fitted. She had a firmer waist and a more rounded rear, but didn't seem very happy about it.

“You look nice, Jane.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

I couldn't think of anything more to say, so I let it drop.

Cyndie, who was sharing a room with Jane, came out next. If anyone was meant to be a girl it was her. If I were attracted to delicate girls, I would have been in love with her. For her part, Cyndie was concerned about Jane and her unhappiness. She showed her concern with sympathetic affection. We walked back to the seminar room together.

When we were all seated, Dr. Koebler stood up and said that she would be our counselor and oversee our transitions. Nurse Snyder would assist her. Each of us would have individual appointments to evaluate our situation and progress. Mine was for 3:00 PM.

Next, nurse Snyder gave us a long hygiene lecture. She began simply enough. While we could expect the other girls to discover who we were eventually, we were to be discrete about our transgendered status. This was both for our own sakes and that of the school, which did not want to be the scene of a public spectacle.

The embarrassing part came when she said that we should take care to tuck our privates away whenever we left our rooms. She selected Pattie as her model. Most of us were quite embarrassed for her. If we might be seen nude, we should temporally glue ourselves in place. Again, Pattie was her example. When the demonstration was over, she distributed glue and solvent to each of us. By then Pattie was crimson.

If that weren't enough, the next topic was sex. The faculty was under no delusions about what might happen amongst hundreds of teen girls deprived of male company. Still, we were not to have intercourse with a genetic girl on pain of expulsion for both of us. She must not trust us because she gave out condom packets to carry in our purses. I'd seen pictures in health class, but had never touched one. Putting some in my purse seemed very naughty. Fortunately for Pattie, Ms. Snyder used a plastic model for her demonstration.

My head was spinning with how different Braintree was from middle school.

She gave us a bathroom break before starting her next topic – transitioning. We got 45 minutes about counseling, the role of hormones in puberty, anti-androgens, estrogen, side effects, real life tests, and sexual reassignment surgery. All transition services and expenses would be covered as long as were at Braintree. Pattie looked very happy.

I was alarmed, and asked, “Are we all going to get estrogen?”

“That will be decided on a case by case basis by Dr. Koebler and our consulting endocrinologist after your interviews and examinations, dear.”

I was in inner turmoil. Delaying puberty might be OK, but growing tits was something else again. I didn't hear much of what nurse Snyder said after that.

I don't remember much about lunch. I was thinking what I'd say to Dr. Koebler when she interviewed me. I didn't want to admit that I wasn't really transgendered, but I didn't want to be put on estrogen either. When Pattie and I got back to our room, I fell asleep from nervous exhaustion.

Pattie woke me. “Ten to three, sweetie. You need to go to your appointment.”

On the way over, I rehearsed how I'd tell Dr. Koebler that I wanted to wait on starting hormones until my mind was more settled. If I repeated that each year, I'd never take them. Once I had my plan down, I relaxed.

Nurse Snyder measured my weight, height, blood pressure and balls. (I wasn't expecting that.) She took enough blood to satisfy a family of vampires. She also wanted urine and semen samples. I never expected that she'd ask me to – you know – do that. I was very embarrassed, but she acted like it was no big deal.

Once I gave her my samples in a paper bag, she said that a portion would be placed in cryostorage against future need. That puzzled me, but before I could ask about it, she sent me on to Dr. Koebler's office.

I knocked.

“Come in! … Miss Antonelli?”

“Yes.”

“Have a seat.”

I imagined laying on a couch, but she pointed to a comfy chair at her desk. She sat smiling at me with a pen in her hand. In front of her was an open folder. We chatted a bit about what I thought of Braintree so far – it was very beautiful, but had my head spinning – and then got down to business.

“How long have you been dressing more or less full time as a girl?”

“Since October.”

“How did you feel about doing it?”

“I was terrified at first. In fact, I threw up the first morning before leaving for school, but I got a lot of support. So it worked out.”

“You showed a lot of courage facing your fears like that. You must have been pretty determined?”

“Thanks. I needed to do it.” I was trying to decide if I should explain about Judy and her plan, but before I could decide, she moved on.

“I understand. … So how old were you when you first tried girls' clothes?”

“Four or five. I used to play dress up with my friend Judy.”

“How did you feel about it?”

“It was fun. Girls' clothes are more fun to wear than boys'.”

“None of us would argue with that, dear.” She made some notes.

“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”

“I have lots of girlfriends.”

“Any of them romantic?”

“Not really.”

“What about boyfriends? Any romantic relationships with boys?”

I blushed, thinking of how I liked to snuggle with John. “Nothing, you know … sexual.”

“What about cuddling and kissing?”

By now I was bright red.

“It's OK. I am not trying to pry.” She made some notes. “So, how did this past summer go?”

I told her about trying to babysit, and how I finally made some money with my dress making.

Our conversation went on like that – pretty low key except for asking if I had a boyfriend. She never asked if I wanted to grow breasts or be put on estrogen. So, I never got a chance to tell her the answer I'd rehearsed. I figured we 'd talk more later. I could tell her then.

Two days after that our test results came back. We were called into nurse Snyder's office one at a time. My results were all fine, so she was going to give me an implant. My puberty blocker, I guessed. It would be less stressful if I were mildly sedated. When I woke up I felt good, but an hour later my arm was sore. I felt a little bump under the gauze bandage. I was to leave it on for two days, so, I tried not to mess with it. When it came off, all I had was a small scab.

We had a lot of leisure time. Only Pattie and Jane had extra demands on them. Pattie was spending time working on grace and poise with Ms. Kelvin. Toward the end of the week she went into town and came back with an irritated face and no beard. Jane was also working with Ms Kelvin, but on muscle tone. Nurse Snyder put her on a weight control program. The rest of us were encouraged to read, swim and walk the grounds.

I called mom and told her what was happening. She was a bit put off by our sex education lecture, but decided it was unavoidable. Besides what was done was done.

I also spent a lot of time texting Judy, Sandy, Roz and John. Judy asked me an interesting question. She could understand how my transition expenses might be included in my scholarship, but Pattie was not a scholarship student. Why was Braintree paying for his? It must be costing them a lot of money. I had no answer, and neither did Pattie. She only said that when he was interviewed Cora Jackson said they would be. That made her really anxious to go.