I try not to fidget as the middle-aged man sat in front of me finishes reviewing the information we provided. My clothes aren’t exactly comfortable- but under the circumstances, they could easily have been a lot LESS comfortable.

“Mr. and Mrs. Walker,” the man says, before turning to me and grandma. “Ian, Mrs. Jones.” I try not to smirk as I sense mum and dad- who are only barely keeping their tempers in check- bristle at the use of what is now my real name. “I have reviewed all the evidence presented to me, and there is only one conclusion I can draw.” My heart beats faster as the man- an independent arbiter agreed upon by both my parents and my grandmother- prepares to begin his summary, only to be interrupted before he can say a word.

“So you will make Kayleigh-Ann come home with us?” Mum asks, and this time it’s my turn to bristle at the use of my deadname.

“No,” the arbiter says, making me breathe a sigh of relief. “All the evidence provided shows that Ian has a legitimate case of gender identity dysphoria. To force him to live life as a female would be to cause him unnecessary harm.”

“No- no…” Mum gasps.

“Furthermore,” the arbiter continues, “to force Ian to leave his life in Cardiff would be causing undue stress to what is a delicate psyche. Transitions such as Ian’s are not easy, either from a physical or an emotional standpoint. Ian has a well-developed ‘comfort zone’ here in Cardiff. He must remain here to maximise the chance of him living a happy, fulfilling life.”

“But- but her career,” mum pleads. “All the money we spent, on dance lessons, on acting classes…”

“Children develop new interests all the time and abandon them just as quickly,” the arbiter says. “Ian’s testimony shows that he never desired any of the activities you provided for him anyway, but he is deeply engrossed in the hobbies he has now.”

“NERD hobbies,” mum futilely pleads. “And her career… She was going to be actress, a superstar…”

“I never was,” I mumble, speaking for the first time since the arbiter welcomed us to his office. Immediately, I grimace at the look of fury my voice- not to mention my whole look- brings to mum’s face.

In the seven months since I began testosterone injections, my body has changed a LOT. At first, the change was slow, but then it seemed like all of a sudden, a switch flipped inside my body and I went from ‘all-out girl’ to ‘all-out boy’. All the muscles on my body- on my legs, my arms and even my neck- are firmer and more defined. My whole body is beginning to sprout fine, light hairs- especially my face. The wispy hairs I had on my chin at Christmas were soon joined by whiskers on my cheeks and hairs on my top lip- hairs I had to shave off for today’s meeting, of course, but I’m assured they will grow back soon, and thicker than before. I’m even growing sideburns.

Mentally, testosterone has given me the confidence I never had when I was a girl. ‘Kayleigh-Ann’ would never have dared to speak to mum the way I just did- especially not in the deeper, more Welsh-sounding pitch I’ve adopted as my ‘true’ speaking voice. In my smart trousers, crisp white shirt, tie, black socks and polished black lace-up shoes, I am quite the handsome young man. The girl behind the reception desk of the office block I entered today certainly thought so- it’s just a pity that there are at least two people in the world who stubbornly refuse to see me for who I truly am…

“So that’s that, then?” Mum spits. “Our daughter is dead.”

“Your SON is very much alive!” Grandma growls. “And anytime you want to accept HIM as the MAN HE is, you’re welcome to do so. Aren’t they, Ian?”

“…As long as you say my name,” I say defiantly. “My TRUE name.”

“Unless there’s anything else, I think we’re done here,” the arbiter says, packing away his files. “Mrs. Walker, Mr. Walker, countless people every day take steps to change their gender. This is usually because they are emotionally and/or physically incapable of living in the gender they were assigned at birth. Ian’s decision is not sudden, and from what I can tell, it is not born out of rebellion against your parenting, but out of genuine emotional anguish at living life as a woman. The fact that Ian had contemplated taking his own life should be evidence enough of this.” I do feel a small sense of victory as this last sentence causes mum to avert her gaze.

“Thank you for your time today,” Grandma says as she and I stand up and shake the arbiter’s hand.

“You’re very welcome, Mrs. Jones, Ian,” the arbiter replies. “I hope you enjoy the rest of the Easter holiday!”

“I intend to,” I laugh nervously.

“When he’s not finishing his coursework, anyway!” Grandma says, making me sigh as we leave the small office. However, we’re immediately followed by my parents, and the looks of disappointment on both of their faces is palpable.

“You could have been so much,” mum spits at me, and for a moment, it looks as though she’s about to raise her hand to her forehead to signify that she’s having another bout of ‘depression’, but a stern look from Grandma quickly prevents this.

“HE still can,” grandma growls.

“All the money we wasted on you growing up,” mum whispers. “Your friend Abbey-Gayle is now a superstar, Kayleigh-Ann. That could have been you. That SHOULD have been you. But no, you’re too selfish to know what’s best for you. You just want to play your silly nerd games with your silly nerd friends. How pathetic.”

“Worshipping fake, plastic people like the Angels is what’s really pathetic!” I retort, and despite grandma’s glare, mum’s hand finds its way to her forehead and she lets out a low moan of pain.

“Craig…” Mum moans. “Take me home…”

“Of course,” dad says, gingerly leading my ‘unwell’ mother toward the exit, before turning and looking me straight in the eye. “If we end up splitting up again, it’ll be your fault.”

“Get out of my sight!” Grandma growls in a voice that even makes me shrivel. Once my ‘parents’ have left the corridor we’re on, I let out a long sigh of relief, which quickly turns into an exasperated laugh at the ridiculousness of my situation.

“You know,” I say, “he once yelled at me for crying too loud and disturbing mum when she was quote-unquote depressed.”

“That ‘man’ doesn’t deserve to call himself a man, much less a father,” grandma spits as we head back to her car. “I don’t know why they got back together after splitting up at Christmas…”

“If I had to guess, it was ‘thanks’ to the fire-breathing lizard who gave birth to him,” I spit, before grimacing as grandma chastises me with a whack on my arm.

“That’s no way to speak about your grandmother,” grandma says firmly. “Not that she deserves to call herself a grandmother any more than that man deserves to call himself a father.”

“She actually wished me dead,” I retort. “Blood relative or not, I’m never going to feel anything other than hatred for her.”

“…That’s your right, I suppose,” grandma says as we get in her car, and I grimace as I realise what I just said.

“I- of course, I’ll only ever love you,” I babble. “For everything you’ve done for me-“

“Thank you, Ian,” grandma says with a smile. “What do you have planned for the rest of the day?”

“Going to do some coursework,” I say, making grandma chuckle. “Then gym this evening. Need to build up my muscles, you know…”

“Ah, of course,” grandma chuckles. “Good job we didn’t tell your parents that you get punched in the face every week!”

“I only punch bags,” I laugh. “Nothing that punches back, heh.”

“Well either way,” grandma says, “it’s a far cry from what you used to do on Tuesday evenings!”

“That’s for sure,” I laugh as I remember back to when Tuesday evenings used to mean wrapping my body in an itchy pair of tights and a sweaty black leotard and dancing on my toes, sometimes until they bled. That’s not to say that there isn’t any bleeding in my current hobby, of course- I’ve scraped my knuckles plenty of times despite taping them up- but I would gladly take a hundred boxing sessions over a single minute of a ballet lesson any day of the week.

…Fortunately, though, coaching sessions come individually rather than in hundreds, so after working hard on my college coursework and eating a filling, meaty dinner (another thing my ‘parents’ will no doubt object to), I head up to my bedroom to change into a pair of loose black shorts and a pair of black trainers. After lacing up my trainers, I pause before picking out which shirt I want today. For my birthday in December, I was given two t-shirts (of a kind), both of which are red, and both of which I have worn so much in the last three months I’ve practically worn them out. This is because one bears the logo of the Welsh national football team, whilst the other bears the logo of Arsenal Football Club.

Naturally, I plump for the Arsenal shirt, especially as Mr. Wright (my coach) is an Arsenal fan, and inevitably, my shirt gets me my obligatory high-five from Neil and my equally obligatory boos from Rob and Lee as I climb into Rob’s father’s car.

“Just because you can’t handle a proper football team,” I snort, making Neil laugh as Rob and Lee’s boos intensify.

“Proper football teams actually win things sometimes,” Lee retorts, making me snort with laughter.

“How’d it go today, Ian?” Rob asks, immediately darkening my mood. “It was your big meeting with the arbiter today, wasn’t it? I’m guessing as you’re sat in the car with us, it went-“

“Every time I see my parents, I just want to punch something,” I moan, interrupting Rob before my anger boils over at the memory of my parents today.

“…O-kay then,” Lee says, breaking the awkward silence I caused. “You’re definitely going to the right place, then!”

“Ugh, sorry,” I moan. “Sorry, Mr. Goddard, I just- ugh. Even THINKING about my so-called parents frustrates me.”

“It’s okay, Ian,” Rob’s father says in his calm teacher’s voice. “If I experienced even a tenth of what you’ve gone through, I’d be frustrated all the time too. Just- make sure you take it out on the bags, okay?”

“Can do,” I say with a tired laugh as we head toward the city centre gym that will hopefully help to eliminate my stress.

However, as I take out my frustrations on Mr. Wright’s bags, I can’t help but visualise my parents’ faces being in front of every punch I throw. When they’d called and asked for an independent arbiter to look into things, I’d initially been pleased- I took it as a sign that mum and dad wanted to talk again, they wanted to communicate… I soon realised that the only thing they wanted to ‘communicate’ was their disappointment in me and their desire to have me give up my life as Ian and go back to being ‘Kayleigh-Ann’, no matter how miserable it would make me. They honestly believed that the arbiter would side with them and somehow find a way to legally force me to return to my old life. No, my parents aren’t interested in communicating, or at the very least, they aren’t interested in a dialogue- all they want is to be told that they are unquestionably in the right, and for me to just give in and accept my fate…

“Gah!” I yell as I hit the bag with the hardest left hook I can muster up, startling the other exercisers around me.

“Whoa, Ian,” Mr. Wright says, gently easing me away from the heavily-abused bag. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I reply as I take several deep breaths. “…Okay, maybe I’m not.”

“I heard that it was your thing with your parents today,” Mr. Wright says in a soft, sympathetic voice. “Didn’t go well, then?”

“Couldn’t have gone better, actually,” I reply. “The arbiter was 100% in my favour. But my parents… Ugh. ‘We promise to abide by the decision as long as it’s the right one’. That’s what they- well, they didn’t say it, but that’s definitely what they were thinking.”

“Well- no offence, Ian, but what WERE you expecting?” Mr. Wright asks. “From what I heard, Christmas went even worse.”

“I was expecting them to have at least tried to see things from my perspective,” I moan.

“You were expecting them to admit defeat?” Mr. Wright argues, before stepping back as I involuntarily shoot him an angry glare. “Just playing devil’s advocate, I don’t mean anything by it… I couldn’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through, or what you went through, living life as the wrong gender. Then again, I couldn’t imagine what it’d be like if one of my children suddenly came home and told me they were transgendered.”

“There was nothing sud-“ I retort, before the older man cuts me off.

“’Nothing sudden about it’, yes, I know,” Mr. Wright interrupts. “And from your perspective, granted, it wasn’t sudden. But your parents spent seventeen years thinking they were raising a daughter, and had no reason to believe otherwise.”

“There WERE clues,” I mumble. “My hair…”

“When he was fifteen Neil had hair down to his shoulders,” Mr. Wright shrugs. “When he was thirteen he stopped supporting Cardiff and started supporting Arsenal. Kids rebel all the time.”

“…I am NOT apologising for being who I am,” I state firmly. “I will NOT compromise my- my anything for them!”

“And you shouldn’t have to,” Mr. Wright says as he sets up another punching bag for me. “Ian, you know I’m always going to be 100% on your side. I’ve said I couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to have a child who was transgendered. But I know I’d still give them all the love and support in the world, because that’s what parents are supposed to do.”

“And children are supposed to unconditionally obey their parents?” I ask.

“…Maybe when they’re six,” Mr. Wright laughs. “But seventeen? You’re all but an adult, your own person. So you’re not going to be an actor, or a model. I always thought Neil was going to be a rugby player. Instead, he’s a computer programmer. And if he enjoys it and is good at it, then I couldn’t be happier.”

“And if he ever decides to pull on a dress?” I ask, catching the middle-aged man off guard.

“…Then he’ll still be my so- still be my child, and I’ll still love and support him unconditionally,” Mr. Wright says. “Don’t give up on your parents, Ian. You’re still their child, and that’s a bond that’s impossible to break. I’m sure they still love you. But they need to learn to love you unconditionally.”

“I’m not holding my breath,” I growl as I resume my punches.

“Just don’t lose ALL hope,” Mr. Wright advises.

I suppose Mr. Wright isn’t ENTIRELY wrong. In all the arguments we’ve had since I came out, mum seems much more upset that I’ve chosen a career away from showbusiness, than my choice to live life as a man. I’d be willing to be that if I became a male model, or a male actor, she’d immediately forget any objections she has about my life. Even if the only acting job I got was on a ‘nerd show’ like Doctor Who.

After the boxing practice ends (and I feel my muscles grow just a tiny bit bigger), Mr. Goddard drives all of us back to our respective homes, where I opt for an early night. As I change from my workout clothes into my pyjamas, though, I can’t help but sigh as I catch a glimpse of my naked body in my wardrobe mirror. My arms may be muscular and my legs hairy, but my waist is still narrower than my hips, my chest is still 'adorned' with two very unwelcome shapes and there is a distinct lack of 'shape' between my legs, reminding me that I never truly belonged in ‘girl world’... But I’ll never truly belong in ‘boy world’, no matter how much testosterone I have injected into me, or how short I cut my hair, or how large my muscles grow. Or even if I undergo any surgeries…

“Ugh,” I spit as I stare into the wide, cartoonish eyes of my favourite stuffed giraffe. “…No, Melman, you get to keep your leg unbitten today. Though it was a damned close thing.”

After pulling on the loose vest and shorts that make up my sleepwear, I climb into bed, but I give my phone a final check before switching out the light- and I’m glad I did, as the single notification on the screen brings a genuine smile to my face for the first time today.

‘Hey, hope it went well today x’ the message reads, though what makes me smile isn’t the content of the message, but the name of the sender- ‘Ella Henry’.

‘Not great,’ I reply with a frowning emoji. ‘In bed now, talk tomorrow.’ I smile again as I toss my phone back on my nightstand, before switching off my lamp and trying to get to sleep. My parents might suck, but I at least have some family who love me- and I have a group of great friends, both male and female, both here and in London, who’ll support me and give me the love I need.

…’Love’ that comes in many shapes and sizes, as I’m reminded the following morning when I arrive at Rob’s house for our traditional Wednesday gaming session. As it’s the school holidays, Rob has promised something considerably more ‘epic’ than the usual 2 vs 2 battles we have, and as I walk into his game room, I see that he’s kept his promise.

“Hi Ian,” Rob says as he and Simon (his 14 year old brother) set up the tiny starships on his vast gaming table. “Hope you’re feeling better today.”

“Much better to be here,” I laugh as I set my own case of model starships down on the table and begin unpacking, but before I do so, I take a quick glance around the room.

Rob’s father is the head teacher of a local secondary school, whilst his mother is a lecturer at Cardiff University, and as such, they have a LOT of disposable income. And as they- like Rob and Simon- are huge nerds, a lot of it gets spent on what my mum would immediately dismiss as ‘nerd stuff’. An entire wall of this room is filled with videogames, some of them over twice my age, while DVD box sets and science-fiction books (both novels and reference books) cover half of another wall, and the other wall is filled with volumes of comic books. But it’s the board games and miniatures that take pride of place in the room. Some of the larger, more intricately-painted miniatures are even displayed in upright glass cabinets that you usually find in a jewellers, or maybe even a museum. There are even displays of older toys, such as Transformers and some vast, complicated Lego sets.

My mother would probably catch fire the instant she set foot in this room, and the knowledge that her ‘future superstar’ was spending time in this room would probably cause the same reaction. And yet, I feel more at ease in this room than I ever did somewhere like Miss Fullerton’s ballet class… Or even in my old London home. One thing’s for certain- I’m much more welcomed in this house than I ever was in that ‘home’.

“You got your ships?” Simon asks me.

“Three of them,” I sigh. “This is one hell of an expensive hobby, heh.”

“Yeah… Sorry about that,” Rob grimaces. “Still, it could be worse…” An excited laugh escapes my mouth as Rob heads to one of the room’s display cabinets and withdraws two painted, textured cubes, each one roughly the size of a football.

“Money is irrelevant,” Simon says in a monotone chant. “Resistance is futile.” I smirk as Simon and his brother begin sorting through the upgrade cards they plan to field alongside their cubes, before reaching into my case for a handwritten note I’d prepared for just this occasion.

“Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam!” I retort, earning laughs from the two brothers, and from Neil and Lee, who have just arrived bearing cases of their own.

“I’m guessing you didn’t mention to your mum yesterday that you’ve been binge-watching Star Trek on Netflix,” Lee says, making me laugh again. “And your pronunciation was a little off.”

“Dyslexia sucks when you’re reading English, let alone Klingon,” I reply. “And it didn’t come up. I’m saving that for when I need to give her a heart attack.”

“And I thought the online arguments about Discovery were volatile,” Neil laughs. “You sure you’re okay today, Ian? Dad mentioned yesterday that you-“

“I’m fine, honestly,” I say, though I instantly grimace at the unintended hostility in my voice.

“Whoa, Ian,” Neil says, “save the ‘Klingon temper’ for the Borg, okay?”

“Sorry,” I sigh, “Just a bit stressed about this whole ‘parents’ thing, that’s all.”

“Think we all would be,” Rob says quietly as he continues to set up his cubes. “Mate, we’re not counsellors or anything-“

“And don’t want to be,” Lee interrupts, earning snorts of laughter from everyone.

“Don’t you have a counsellor, anyway?” Neil asks.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “I saw her on Monday, she gave me a few coping techniques… Didn’t work. Just the sight of my parents’ faces makes me want to scream.”

“Well like I said,” Neil says, “save that aggression for the Borg. Or the bags, every Tuesday.”

“Or the bog, if you’re stomach’s upset,” Simon says, leading to an awkward silence. “What? I thought it was funny…”

“What I was trying to say,” Rob says firmly, “is that we’re not good at the whole ‘emotion’ thing. But anytime you want a gaming session, or a trip down the gym to take your mind off of things, just yell, we’ll be here, right guys?”

“Yeah, like we need an excuse for a session!” Lee laughs. “Seriously though Ian, Rob IS right.”

“Unfortunately, Lee’s also right,” Neil says, laughing as Lee flicks a card at his face. “Anytime you need to talk… You’re better off finding someone else. Didn’t you say you had a girlfriend- well, not ‘girlfriend’ girlfriend, but girl who is a friend, friend who is a girl, that sort of thing?”

“Yeah,” Lee concurs. “That Australian girl, right? The one who looks like a supermodel?” I try not to laugh as Simon’s head immediately jerks upward at the mention of the word ‘supermodel’. Simon’s brother, however, isn’t so kind.

“Just as long as your head’s the only thing that ‘rises’,” Rob teases his brother, who rolls his eyes in response.

“And I thought I was having trouble adjusting to testosterone,” I quip, knowing the guys well enough to know that the joke will go over well.

“Shut up,” Simon mumbles as I check my phone to see if Ella has contacted me since last night- and much to my delight, there’s one unread Facebook message waiting for me.

‘Free all day when you want a chat,’ the message- which is, of course, from Ella- reads, bringing a smile to my face.

“You sure that Australian girl ISN’T your girlfriend?” Neil teases. “To be fair I’d be grinning like an idiot too if a six foot tall blonde underwear model sent me Facebook messages too.”

“You’d be grinning like an idiot if ANY woman sent you a Facebook message,” I retort, earning a fist bump from Lee as we continue to setup our fleets ahead of the game.

With the game being as epic in scope as it is, it takes us the entire morning and most of the afternoon to complete (though gratifyingly, it’s mine, Neil and Lee’s team that wins). The five of us get so engrossed in the game that we barely notice the time passing, and by the time we’ve sorted and packed away our equipment, it’s almost 4pm. It’s only as I’m putting my phone back in my pocket, ready for the journey home, that I remember I have an unanswered message waiting for me.

“We are so doing that again,” Lee laughs, while collecting all the soft drink cans we emptied today and placing them in a carrier bag. “That was so much easier to keep track of than the Dominion War match we had during half term.”

“Four ships each definitely seems to work, right Ian?” Neil asks, snapping me out of my ‘trance’.

“Hmm?” I ask. “Umm, yeah, definitely, especially now I’ve got the Negh’Var.”

“…Lost in thought?” Neil teases. “We don’t need to ask why, do we?”

“We don’t need to ask ‘who’, either,” Simon laughs, no doubt glad to repay one of my earlier digs.

“Shut up,” I mumble. “To be honest I’d forgotten she’d even sent me a message.”

“Well, we’d better not keep you,” Rob laughs as he leads me, Neil and Lee out to the latter’s mother’s car. “Let us know what it’s like ‘down under’!”

“Close your mouth and stop talking,” I retort, making Rob and Simon laugh as I wave them goodbye.

“Eh, you know we’re just having a bit of fun,” Neil laughs as we head home. “It’s just a thing guys do, give each other a hard time about girls.”

“Not that Neil would know anything about that,” Lee says with a snort of laughter.

“My point proved,” Neil says. “And as we said before, we’re all just a tiny bit jealous that you’ve got a seriously hot, tall blonde on the other end of that phone.”

“Even though she’s-“ I begin.

“Even though she’s NOT your girlfriend, yes,” Neil interrupts, finishing my sentence for me.

“You know,” I muse, “it’s not all THAT different when it comes to a group of girls. I’ve told about the fake boyfriend I used to- well, not ‘have’. ‘Use’, maybe?”

“What, the guy with glasses?” Lee asks.

“That’s him,” I nod. “And I used to hang out with this ‘clique’ of other- no, not ‘other’, this clique of GIRLS, Ella being one of them. I got a LOT of- well, let’s call it what it is, a lot of abuse from them about my choice of man. The only difference is, they WEREN’T joking.”

“Yeah, I remember being a teenaged girl all too well,” Lee’s mother sighs. “Trust me- you’re much better off away from THAT.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Charlton,” I reply. “Ironic thing is, the one who badmouthed Ollie the most was his own sister.”

“Yeah, moaning about other girls is something else you’re better off away from,” Neil says, making me sigh and roll my eyes.

“Point taken,” I concede.

“…Got a good amount of cans today,” Lee says, breaking the awkward silence in the car.

“Why ARE you collecting cans, anyway?” I ask. “Just recycling or something?”

“Nah, I only want aluminium cans,” Lee explains. “All will be revealed, honest.”

“If you say so,” I shrug as the car trundles toward our respective homes.

After filling grandma in on the day’s activities and eating a delicious, filling dinner of pork chops in gravy, I head up to my bedroom on the promise of doing more coursework, but the second I close the door, I grab my tablet computer and log into Facebook, grinning when I see that the person I want to talk to isn’t just online, but already typing me a message.

‘Hey Ian!’ Ella types before I even have the chance to start typing.

‘Hi Ella!’ I type.

‘Hope you had a better day today than yesterday x,’ Ella types.

‘Don’t know how it could’ve been worse,’ I reply, earning a ‘hugging’ emoji from Ella.

‘Well it must have been better ‘cause of how late you’ve logged into Facebook!’ Ella types, making me groan as a wave of guilt washes over my body.

‘Sorry,’ I type. ‘I know I said ‘talk tomorrow’, I kinda got caught up in things. My bad.’

‘S’okay,’ Ella replies. ‘Fun things, I hope?’

‘Depends on whether or not you think playing with miniature Star Trek ships is fun,’ I type, laughing as Ella replies with a ‘rolling eyes’ emoji.

‘Wouldn’t be my idea of fun,’ the tall blonde girl types. ‘But if you like it, then it’s cool, I guess.’

‘It’s supremely UNcool,’ I retort. ‘That’s why I like it so much!’

‘Lol,’ Ella types with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji. ‘Tbf I did like the new series that was on earlier in the year.’

‘Discovery?’ I type. ‘It was okay, I guess.’

‘Obviously I’m not going to tell the other girls I watched it,’ Ella types with a ‘winking’ emoji.

‘You still hang out with the other girls, then?’ I ask. ‘Thought everyone went their separate ways after Abbey-Gayle joined the Angels?’

‘We did for a bit,’ Ella types. ‘Think Brooke and Georgie resented me getting signed to Heavenly Talent too. But it’s Abbey-Gayle’s birthday on Friday, and she invited us all along to celebrate with her, so think we might be cool now.’

‘Okay,’ I type as I feel my brain instantly start to numb at the mention of the other girls’ lives.

‘It’ll be a PROPER Angel party too,’ Ella types, her excitement plain in her words. ‘At Charlotte’s house, costumes, the whole works.’

‘Cool,’ I type.

‘Playboy Bunny costumes in case you’re wondering,’ Ella types with a ‘grinning’ emoji. ‘Think it’s ‘cos it’s Easter weekend. Already got mine sorted out!’

‘Cool,’ I type again, earning a ‘neutral’ emoji from Ella.

‘I’m boring you, aren’t I?’ Ella types.

‘No, not at all,’ I reply, though I inwardly frown at the lie.

‘Yes I am,’ Ella types. ‘It’s okay, Ian, you don’t need to pretend to be interested. You suffered through enough of that back when you were Kayleigh-Ann.’

‘Suffer is the right word for it,’ I type. ‘I would honestly rather wear a noose than a Playboy Bunny costume.’

‘Aww xx,’ Ella types, followed by a ‘frowning’ and a ‘hugging’ emoji.

‘If my parents had their way, they’d probably be my only choices, lol,’ I type.

‘It went THAT bad yesterday?’ Ella asks with another ‘hugging’ emoji.

‘Worse,’ I reply. ‘Mum still sees me as her property and dad’s more useless than a chocolate teapot. Just thank god my other grandmother wasn’t there.’

‘That sucks,’ Ella types with yet another ‘hugging’ emoji. ‘Really wish I was there so I could give you these hugs in person.’

‘Facebook hugs work just as well,’ I type.

‘I disagree,’ Ella types. ‘You know, when Abbey-Gayle invited us to her party, she really just invited me, but said ‘bring along the rest of the gang’. Technical, you know…’

‘Seriously?’ I ask. ‘After what I just said about Playboy Bunny costumes?’

‘Well obviously YOU won’t wear one, BOY!’ Ella types with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji. ‘There’ll be other boys at the party, think they’ll just be wearing smart shirts and trousers. It’ll give you a chance to take your mind off things.’

‘I dunno,’ I type. ‘It’s not cheap getting the train from Cardiff to London. I doubt I’d be able to sell going to an adult, booze-filled party to Grandma, and I’d need somewhere to stay overnight…’

‘NERD,’ Ella types with another ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji. ‘You can stay with me! And try looking for reasons TO come rather than reasons NOT to come. You’ll get to see me again, for a start. You know the last time we saw each other was Spain last year?’

‘It would be nice to see you again,’ I type, earning a ‘grinning’ emoji from Ella.

‘And you know Jamie-Lee Burke’s fiancé is transgendered, right?’ Ella asks. ‘He’ll be at the party too, you can talk to him about stuff. Have you ever actually spoken to another transgendered boy before?’

‘No, actually,’ I type. ‘I sometimes get the chance to talk to other people at my counsellor’s office but they’re all girls, not boys.’

‘Sounds like two good reasons to come to London, then!’ Ella types.

‘I can think of two very good reasons to stay away from London,’ I type with a ‘sad’ emoji. ‘Three, if you count my other grandma. And it’ll be awkward catching up with Brooke and Georgie, neither of them have readded me- well, ‘Ian’ on Facebook.’

‘They both had a hard time with the change,’ Ella types with a ‘frowning’ emoji. ‘Georgie especially had a hard time understanding how someone could want to change the way you did.’

‘Georgie has a hard time understanding how to use a door handle,’ I type.

‘Lol true!’ Ella replies with a ‘laughing’ emoji. ‘Okay so maybe I can’t force you to come to London. God knows I wouldn’t be any better than your parents if I did. And I get that you want to start fresh. But if you come to London, I guarantee you’ll have fun, I guarantee you won’t have ANY contact with your parents, and I’ll stay with you the whole time so you won’t have OMGeorgie giving you brain damage!’

‘Won’t your boyfriend have something to say about that?’ I ask with a ‘stuck out tongue’ emoji.

‘Would if I had one,’ Ella replies, surprising me- but even more surprising is her choice of a ‘laughing’ emoji to accompany her message. ‘Got rid of him a couple of weeks ago.’

‘You never said anything!’ I type with a ‘shocked’ emoji.

‘We weren’t even serious,’ Ella retorts. ‘Didn’t even change my Facebook status.’

‘You were really excited about him at the start of the relationship, though,’ I type as I suddenly find my heart beating faster.

‘Meh, every start of a relationship is exciting,’ Ella retorts. ‘You’ll find this when you FINALLY get yourself a cute girl!’

‘Don’t hold your breath,’ I type, laughing as Ella replies with first a ‘stuck out tongue’ emoji, followed by a ‘shy, giggling’ one.

‘So…’ Ella types. ‘Coming to London?’

‘I’ll talk to my grandma,’ I type as I let out a long, loud sigh.

‘Yay!’ Ella replies with a ‘cheering’ emoji, followed by a ‘hugging’ one. ‘It’s going to be SO cool to see you again, I mean, I’ve seen the photos, but I can’t wait to see your hunky boy’s body in the flesh!’ Okay, I think to myself. If she wasn’t flirting with me before, she has GOT to be now…

‘So all being well, see you Friday morning?’ I type.

‘Or even tomorrow, if you want,’ Ella replies. ‘Give us more time to catch up…’

‘I’ll ask grandma and get back to you,’ I type, my hands involuntarily shaking with excitement.

‘Don’t keep me hanging on too long,’ Ella types with a ‘winking’ emoji as I logout of Facebook and take several deep breaths to try to calm my racing heart.

Ella HAD to have been flirting with me throughout that conversation. She HAD to have been. We’ve chatted before, and sure, she’s always been ‘familiar’ with me because of how long we’ve been friends, but still, ‘wanting to hug me in real life’, ‘wanting to see my hunky boy’s body in the flesh’? Those aren’t just ‘friendly’ words. Unless, of course, she’s teasing me, just like the guys teased me earlier today… Why would a seriously sexy girl like Ella be interested in a slender, three inches shorter guy who spends a lot of his time watching Star Trek? Not to mention a guy who has boobs and a vagina? My counsellor has said that with increased testosterone level comes an increased sex drive, and I’ve often found myself getting ‘distracted’ by some of the more attractive girls at college… But no matter how vivid my imagination may get, consciously I know that those girls would never be interested in a slender, short guy who’s a known nerd. Is Ella’s flirting genuine, or just a figment of my testosterone-fuelled imagination? One thing’s for certain, there’s only one way to find out…

“Hi, um, grandma, “ I say nervously as I walk into the living room. “Umm, I- I need to-“

“Whatever it is, just say it,” grandma says without even looking up from her Kindle. “I’ve been a parent long enough to know what THAT tone of voice means.”

“I’ve, um, been invited to a friend’s birthday party,” I explain. No need to ‘dump’ it all on grandma at once, a bit at a time will do…

“Oh,” grandma says. “Well, it’s hardly like you need my permission to go, I mean, you ARE seventeen… How old will this ‘friend’ be?”

“…Nineteen, I think,” I mumble.

“I see,” grandma says in a clipped voice. “Well, you’re aware of the law about underage drinking, and you’re aware that I expect you to follow them.”

“Yes, grandma,” I mumble. “The, um, there’s something else about the party, it’s um, it’s kinda… In London.”

“Oh,” grandma says. “When is this party?”

“Friday,” I mumble.

“…I trust you’d be going with other friends, and not just by yourself?” Grandma asks.

“Oh- definitely,” I say. “It’s, um, it’s Ella, the Australian girl I told you about. I mean, it’s not HER birthday, but I’d be going with her-“

“Well she does seem like a sensible young woman,” grandma interrupts, and obviously I know better than to complain about being cut off. “And I suppose it IS your holiday, you’ve worked hard all year, you deserve a little break… But are you sure that you want to go all the way to London?”

“…Not, 100%, no,” I mumble.

“That’s what I thought,” grandma says. “Ian… Like I said, you don’t need my permission to go if this is what you really want. You ARE practically an adult, after all, and you can make your own decisions, I just don’t want you making the wrong decisions.”

“And you think me going to London would be the wrong decision?” I ask.

“It IS the city where your parents live,” grandma says softly.

“And about ten million other people,” I retort.

“Good point,” grandma says. “Ian, you’ve been through a lot this week. Yes, it’s your holiday, but you should relax for the next few weeks. The last thing you need right now is stress, and travelling to a big city on your own is my idea of stressful.”

“I did live there for a long time,” I counter.

“Ian,” grandma sighs, sitting back in her chair. “If you want to go, you go. Your home will still be here when you come back. Just- just make sure you look after yourself, okay?”

“I will, I promise,” I say with a grin as grandma tuts, before letting out a soft chuckle. “I, um, I should go and pack.”

“Why?” Grandma asks. “I thought you said the party was on Friday?”

“Yeah…” I grimace. “Ella kinda- kinda invited me to go down tomorrow, you know, to catch up…”

“…This ‘Ella’ girl sounds like she’s got you wrapped around her little finger!” Grandma laughs, her laughter increasing in volume as I roll my eyes.

“It’s not like THAT,” I retort. “We- we’re just friends, fancy chatting face to face instead of, you know, Facebook to Facebook for a change.”

“If you insist,” Grandma laughs as I leave the room. “All I know is that she put that smile back on your face VERY quickly after yesterday.”

As I pack my small travel suitcase for the weekend, I’m forced to concede that grandma is, of course, correct. Yesterday, I was so stressed I felt like tearing down the punching bag I was using and instead beating a hole in the wall behind it. I wanted to forget that my parents, and by extension, everything about them- even the city they lived in- ever existed. Now, here I am packing a bag and preparing to travel to that city. Even though it's remote, there is a chance I may even see them, or worse yet, my other grandmother, during my stay. But I'm willing to risk that chance anyway. And all for a friend I barely even liked when we used to hang out together.

Well, 'Kayleigh-Ann' barely liked Ella. 'Ian', on the other hand, likes her a lot. Ella's always been there for me, willing to listen to my stresses, to cheer me up when I'm down... In a way, she's an even better friend than the three guys I hang out with. Sure, we have less in common, but there's more to being friends than simply sharing hobbies and interests, right?

Nonetheless, Rob, Neil and Lee are still my friends, so after I finish packing, I grab my phone (my tablet computer having already been packed, of course) and log onto Facebook, opening a new group chat with the three young men.

'Hi guys,' I hastily type. 'Just FYI I'm not going to be around for the next couple of days, am off to London for a bit. Should be back by Saturday.'

'Okay,' Rob almost immediately replies. 'Everything okay, Ian? I mean with your parents.'

'It's fine,' I reply. 'I'm not going to see them, I'm just meeting up with a friend.'

Typical,' Lee types. 'Gets a better offer and immediately jumps on a train.'

'And we all know who the better offer was from, don't we?' Neil types, making me roll my eyes as the conversation briefly pauses.

'We're waiting,' Lee types.

'Okay, fine, I'm going to see Ella,' I type, earning grinning emojis from all three boys. 'I'm just going to catch up, that's all. It's one of our mutual friends' birthdays on Friday, I'll say hi, see how everyone is, I'll be back by Saturday, as I said.'

'Assuming you can tear yourself away from the Aussie hottie, anyway,' Neil types. 'Seriously, mate, well done! I'd probably move to London if she snapped her fingers at me.'

'Think we've already done THAT joke to death,' I type, earning 'lol's from both Rob and Lee.

'Seriously though, thanks for letting us know," Rob types. 'And have fun!'

'Will do,' I type with a smiling emoji.

'Would ask you to bring back a souvenir,' Lee types. 'But I'm not sure I'd be able to hide a pair of worn panties anywhere.'

'Oh fuck off,' I type, earning more 'lol's from Rob and Neil. 'G2g now. See you Saturday!'

'Enjoy,' Neil types with a 'sticking out tongue' emoji as I logout and snort at Lee's sexist attitude.

He's always been by far the bluntest of the three guys, and thinks nothing of making those sort of jokes for shock value, but the way he spoke about Ella... Something about it got under my skin. Just because I've rejected womanhood doesn't mean I have to attack it, after all.

Rather than dwell on Lee's poor attitude, I instead put it to the back of my mind and try not to let it bother me as I end the day doing some coursework before opting for an early night ahead of an early morning tomorrow.

The following morning, grandma drops me off at Cardiff Central Station just after 8:10am, and I will confess to feeling some nerves as I get on the train. Obviously, this won’t be the first time I’ve travelled on a train by myself- I made the reverse journey a year and a half ago- but it will be the first time ‘Ian’ will have travelled by himself, and the further away from Cardiff I get, the more isolated I feel as I realise that this will also be the first time ‘Ian’ has been separated from the people he knows and loves. The arbiter was right- I do have a nice, safe comfort zone in Cardiff, and the further away I get from it, the more anxious I feel, especially given what happened on Tuesday. By the time we arrive at Swindon station, it’s all I can do not to jump off the train and get on one straight back to Wales…

However, a quick glance in the train window reminds me that however much I love my ‘comfort zone’, it’s time for me to literally man up. I can’t lock myself away in my bedroom forever, it’s good to try to break out of the comfort zone once in a while. To the untrained eye, I look just like a boy. No one’s likely to ‘clock’ me, and even if they do, they’re unlikely to care. And it’s not like I’ll be exploring London by myself, Ella will be there, as will many of my other friends… However, one of ‘Kayleigh-Ann’s friends was once kidnapped by her father and forced to live life as a boy. But Laura was twelve when that happened, physically she was very much a child, unable to do anything physically, whereas I’m seventeen, 5’ 7”, very physically fit and with several months of boxing training under my belt. If dad tries anything like Laura’s father did, he’ll be in for one HELL of a surprise.

By the time the train pulls into Paddington station, my adrenaline is pumping so much that I almost hope that I do get into a fight, but as I step off the train, my nerves are soothed when I see a very tall, very blonde girl stood in the crowd. All of a sudden, my anxieties disappear, but the butterflies in my stomach remain, especially when Ella’s eyes meet mine and a wide grin spreads across her face- and much to my surprise, a wide grin quickly spreads across my face as well as I see her walk toward me, her long, slender legs encased in shiny black tights poking out from underneath a short black skirt. The second I step off the train and away from the crowd, Ella rushes over to me and wraps me in a tight hug, giggling excitedly into my ear.

“Welcome back to London, MISTER Freeman!” Ella squeaks as her hugs lift me off my feet (in addition to being taller to begin with, she’s also wearing a casual pair of three inch heels that make her almost a head taller than me).

“Thanks,” I laugh as I try to wriggle out of Ella’s tight squeeze. “It’s good to be back- though you’re kinda crushing my ribs!”

“Oops!” Ella giggles as she puts me down, our ‘embrace’ having attracted a lot of attention from onlookers. “Sorry, Ian- I mean, you know, sorry, MATE! I’m just so stoked to see you again… It’s been months. And you have REALLY changed, you know?”

“Thanks,” I laugh. “You’ve kinda changed too… Have you actually got taller since I last saw you?”

“Nope, still 5’ 10”,” Ella shrugs. “But then again, I’m not the one taking ‘stud’ hormones, heh!” I giggle as Ella grabs my growing biceps, before sighing as it turns into yet another hug.

“Ribs!” I protest as Ella lifts me up again.

“Oh come on, I’m not squeezing THAT hard,” Ella moans.

“…It’s kinda the things on top of the ribs that are uncomfortable,” I mumble, making Ella grimace as she releases me.

“Sorry…” Ella sighs as we climb into a waiting taxi. “It’s just- you know, you have REALLY changed in the last seven months. I genuinely wouldn’t have picked you for ever having been a girl.”

“Thanks!” I say with a giggle. “You know, you seem a lot more… Excitable since the last time I saw you.”

“Nah, I’m just happy to see you again,” Ella sighs. “Though it’s not like I want to jump into bed with you or anything, heh. It hasn’t been the same since you- well, since ‘Kayleigh-Ann’ left.”

“Yeah,” I mumble, feeling oddly disappointed at Ella not ‘desiring’ me. “Though you know- god, this will probably sound weird… I actually like you better as a friend for ‘Ian’ than I ever did for ‘Kayleigh-Ann’. Umm, no offence, I just mean- you know-“

“Yeah, I think I get what you mean,” Ella says. “When you were Kayleigh-Ann, you, like, had an image to keep up, but now that you’re Ian, you can be who you always wanted to be, right?”

“Something like that,” I shrug. “I don’t have to pretend anymore, and because you’ve accepted me for who I really am… That sort of thing.”

“Well, I’m just glad that we ARE friends,” Ella giggles, giving me another gentle hug. “Though I thought that boys WEREN’T supposed to talk about their feelings?”

“Oh, whatever,” I shrug. “I’m having my hormones scrambled, I need SOMEONE to talk to, and I only see my counsellor once a week. I think the rule only applies to two boys talking to each other about feelings, anyway. I’m allowed to talk to a girlfriend if I want. Umm, by which I mean, you know, not ‘girlfriend’ but ‘friend who’s a girl’-“

“I get it, I get it,” Ella whispers, leading to an awkward silence in the taxi.

“So… Umm, where are we heading?” I ask.

“My house first,” Ella says. “Just to drop off your bags. Then I promised I’d take you round to see the other girls.”

“Oh- seriously?” I ask. “I missed you, but I didn’t miss Brooke and I DEFINITELY didn’t miss Georgie!”

“I know,” Ella sighs. “But they DID miss you, and when I told them that you were coming down to London for the weekend, they demanded to see you, and I couldn’t say no-“

“It’s okay,” I sigh. “My counsellor’s actually said that it’s good to, you know, ‘confront the past’ like that. Show the girls that ‘Kayleigh-Ann’ is gone for good, give them time to get to know and accept ‘Ian’, that sort of thing.”

“Yeah,” Ella mused. “So we’ll just drop off your case, then head round to Georgie’s house, okay.”

“Yeah, I guess that-“ I said, before my eyes suddenly go wide. “Wait, Georgie’s house!?”

“Yes…” Ella says, confused by my sudden panic. “It has to be at someone’s house, and Georgie’s IS the largest.”

“And everyone’s off college because of the Easter holiday, right?” I ask as I take several deep breaths to try to calm myself down.

“Yes…” Ella says.

“Including Georgie’s brother?” I ask in a small, feeble voice, inwardly shuddering at the thought of the boy I'd kissed many, many times before.

“Oh my god!” Ella gasps as realisation dawns on her. “Ian, I am so, so sorry, I didn’t think, I should’ve thought, I-“

“It’s okay,” I whisper. “If I’m going to ‘confront the past’ I’ll need to talk to him sooner or later. He WAS a big part of ‘Ian’s early life…”

“If you’re sure,” Ella whispers. “I can always, you know, call Georgie, ask to rearrange, I’m sure she of all people would understand-“

“Honestly, it’s okay,” I say. “Seriously. To tell you the truth, there’s a part of me that wants to see him. Well, wants him to see me, anyway. How much I’ve done, how far I’ve come WITHOUT his help.”

“Atta- boy!” Ella cheers. “But only, ONLY if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” I say confidently. "And if the worst comes to the worst, I can always break out my boxing training, heh."

Needless to say, though, I wasn’t sure- far from it, in fact. After dropping my case at Ella’s grandmother’s house (and getting a look at the sofa that will be my bed for the next two nights) the two of us hop back into the taxi and head toward Georgie’s large, middle-class house. Every time I came here in the past, I was always filled with an overwhelming sense of dread. I dreaded having to spend time with what I saw as four airheads, having to talk about topics that I thoroughly hated, having to behave in a way that made me want to tear my skin off in frustration. The only good thing about this house was Ollie… No, not Ollie. The only good thing about this house was Ian. And it was thanks to Ollie’s selfish actions that Ian was taken away from me for so many months last year.

Now, as I approach the house, I’m once again filled with a sense of dread- but for the exact opposite reason. I know I’ll be spending time with the same women, but I won’t have to pretend to be a woman myself. Most of the talk will inevitably be about my transition, so I won’t have to feign interest when the girls talk about things like make-up or clothes- if anything, I’ll actually be expected to be uninterested in these topics. So no, it’s not the girls I’m dreading- well, it’s not them I’m dreading the most anyway. Ollie and I haven’t spoken face to face in over a year, not since the Valentine’s ‘date’ that saw me spend the night in hospital. I have a million things I want to say to him… But I’m dreading what, if anything, he has to say to me.

“O! M! G!” Georgie squeaks as she opens her front door and looks me in the face, before excitedly flapping her hands like a penguin having a seizure.

“…Hi, Georgie,” I say, not knowing how to react to Georgie’s ‘enthusiasm’ (other than with a feeling of utter dread, of course).

“OMG your accent too!” Georgie squeaks. “Is that, like, a boy’s accent?”

“It’s a Welsh boy’s accent,” I shrug.

“Can we come in?” Ella asks, leaning over my shoulder and making me feel short once again.

“Oh my god!” Georgie squeaks, before stepping aside and letting us into her house. “Come in! Come in! Girls! They’re here!” I smile and wave as I enter the living room and see two young women sat on Georgie’s sofa. Unsurprisingly, Brooke is one of the girls, but much to my shock, the other one isn’t Abbey-Gayle, but Maisie Holland- the captain of my school’s cheerleading squad (of which I was, of course a member).

“WOW,” Maisie breathes as I sit down next to Ella on Georgie’s other sofa, whilst our host goes to get us some drinks. “I mean- wow! You’d like, never be able to tell that you were ever a girl, Kay- Ahh, sorry, I mean ‘Ian’… That’s going to take a LOT of getting used to.”

“Oh. My. God!” Brooke enthuses, standing in front of me with her jaw agape. “You- you- you’re hot, Ian!”

“…I wouldn’t say ‘hot’,” I mumble as I try not to blush.

“Well I would,” Brooke says with an excited giggle. “God, you know- you know, I’ve actually seen you naked before? When we used to get changed together for ballet?”

“Don’t remind me,” I say with a snort of laughter.

“Seriously, Ian,” Brooke continues. “You must have every girl in Wales lined up at your door!”

“I wish,” I say with a snort of laughter as I start to fidget, feeling uncomfortable about being the centre of attention. Then again, I’m not being treated any differently than any other attractive young man unfortunate enough to catch the attention our little ‘group’…

When it was me, Brooke, Georgie, Ella and Abbey-Gayle, we’d regularly go out to cafes or smoothie bars, where any young man we deemed attractive- whether they were waiting staff or just another customer- would suddenly find themselves being oozed over by five attractive young women. One’s things for certain, though- in these circumstances, it’s much better to be oozed over than to be doing the oozing!

“Tell them about your boxing practice, Ian!” Ella says, making me chuckle nervously.

“Oh my god!” Maisie squeaks. “You’ve seriously gone from ballet and cheerleading to BOXING!?”

“I’ve… Kinda made some new friends in Cardiff,” I explain. “Boy- boys, a bunch of guys I hang out with. Usually on Tuesdays they go swimming, obviously I can’t really do that yet ‘cause I can’t go topless in the pool and I’m not wearing a bikini top or a one-piece swimsuit, so, umm, one of them, their dad is a boxing coach and he’s been training me whilst they go swimming.”

“That is SO cool,” Maisie whispers. “Have you, you know, been in any fights yet?”

“No, HELL no,” I giggle. “Just a way to, you know, work out a little frustration…”

“I bet,” Brooke says with a laugh. “You know… We HAVE missed you. Well, we’ve missed Kayleigh-Ann, anyway. Umm, no offence…”

“None taken,” I say with a smile. “I think I know what you mean. It’s not ‘Ian’ or ‘Kayleigh-Ann’ you’ve missed, it’s just, you know, me? Or does that make me sound a bit egotistical?”

“Just a little,” Maisie teases, sticking her tongue out at me. “Though with you gone, I did take your ‘spot’…”

“Maisie is COOL,” Brooke says, making the other girl blush.

“SUPER cool!” Georgie giggles as she returns from the kitchen with a tray of soft drinks. “Like, OMG, Kay- Kay-“

“Ian,” I say, trying to stifle a sigh.

“Ian!” Georgie giggles. “Maisie is just, like, SO cool!”

“Aww,” Maisie coos, clearly happy that the centre of attention has shifted from me to her- though just like when we were at school, I have no problem with Maisie hogging the limelight.

“Why didn’t you tell us about her earlier, Kayleigh-Ann?” Georgie asks, making me bristle. “We could, like, have been, you know, six girls, or something like that?”

“HIS name isn’t Kayleigh-Ann,” Ella says in a soft, but firm voice. “And he is NOT a girl.” My heart begins to flutter as I hear the words I’ve said to myself on so many occasions… Though this is the first time I’ve heard them coming from someone else’s mouth, and the feeling that generates inside my chest is simply indescribable.

“OMG I am so sorry!” Georgie squeaks, flapping her hands in a state of near-panic. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god-“

“It’s fine,” I say, trying my best to sound sympathetic. “I know you didn’t do it deliberately.”

“Oh my god oh my god,” Georgie squeaks, taking several deep breaths to calm herself down.

“Georgie, try to calm down!” Brooke laughs. “You’re not the first person to make this mistake, is she, Ian?”

“Umm, nope,” I say as I muse on how much more mature Brooke seems to be since I last saw her. Georgie, of course, doesn’t seem to have matured at all, as proved when she takes the opportunity to start babbling on about another time she ‘embarrassed’ herself by saying the wrong thing, followed by another, and another… And as this is Georgie we’re talking about, she probably has enough anecdotes to fill the rest of the afternoon.

Part of me feels slightly aggrieved that the topic of my transition is now firmly off the table- the girls having obviously learned all they want to about it- though as before, I am on the whole happy to no longer be in the limelight. I even start to relax a little as I- like any typical boy- pretend to listen to what the girls are talking about, though my relaxation comes to an abrupt end when Georgie’s living room door opens and I find myself staring straight into the bespectacled eyes of the boy who was ‘Ian’s only friend for a very long time.

“Ollie,” I whisper despite myself as the colour drains from the young man’s face. “Umm… Hi…”

“Eww, get lost, NERD!” Georgie spits at her older brother. “This is GIRL TALK only!” I bite my lip as Georgie once again forgets that not everyone sat on her sofa is female- though as before, I’m sure that her slip-up is down to pure ignorance, rather than any malice on her part.

“Umm… Georgie…” Brooke mumbles, breaking the awkward silence that has fallen over the room, and despite myself, I roll my eyes as Georgie gasps and has another near-panic attack.

“OMG OMG I’m so sorry!” Georgie squeaks.

“It’s fine,” I say, trying (and failing) to sound sympathetic. “Umm… Hi, Ollie.”

“Hi… Ian,” Ollie replies. “I, um, thought you lived in Cardiff now?”

“I do,” I say. “I’m just back for a couple of days to, um, catch up…”

“I think we’d better give the BOYS some space!” Ella says, and before I can protest, she, Brooke, Georgie and Maisie leave the room, leaving me sat staring nervously at my ‘ex-boyfriend’.

“So, umm, hi,” I mumble.

“Hi,” Ollie mumbles, sitting down opposite me. “So, umm, you’ve- you’re, umm, really, you know-“

“Transitioning?” I interrupt. “Yep. Started taking testosterone treatments this September just gone.”

“Oh, okay,” Ollie mumbles.

“Turns out you weren’t my best chance of ever becoming Ian,” I say, barely disguising the anger in my voice. “Turns out that that was me all along.”

“Yeah,” Ollie grimaces. “Ian, I- I’m sorry, okay? Sorry for the way I acted…”

“That was over a year ago,” I say. “Water under the bridge. Everything turned out alright in the end.”

“You know,” Ollie sighs, “I- I thought I loved you there. I could have loved you.”

“No,” I say firmly. “You thought you loved Kayleigh-Ann. And that person never existed.”

“I realise that now,” Ollie sighs.

“So…” I say hesitantly. “You- are you, you know, seeing anyone?”

“Umm, nope,” Ollie says. “Haven’t seen anyone since we, umm, you know…”

“…Me either,” I mumble.

“Skinny nerds who wear glasses don’t really attract girls,” Ollie says with a snort of laughter.

“Try being a transsexual nerd,” I snort. “Not sure which is less of a turn-off to girls, heh.”

“So, um, you’re definitely, you know…” Ollie mumbles.

“Heterosexual?” I ask. “Yes. I tried not to think about sex, but the testosterone kinda kicks your sex drive into, well, sex OVERdrive. Problem is, I find actually hanging out with girls as irritating as I did back when I was Kayleigh-Ann, and I doubt any girls would enjoy spending an evening playing videogames or board games…”

“Meh, I still live in hope,” Ollie shrugs. “So, umm, you- you got a console of your own now?”

“Got a PS4 with Christmas and birthday money,” I say. “Got a regular Overwatch night with my friends in Cardiff.”

“Cool,” Ollie mumbles. “So, umm, you- you want to, you know, get some gaming in now? Or would you rather hang out with Georgie and-“

“Sounds great,” I say with a grin, before following Ollie up to his room.

As I step into the small, cramped room, I’m filled with a wave of nostalgia- despite my protests of independence, it was in here that ‘Ian’ was truly born. This, however, will be the first time I will have stepped into (and, of course, left) this room in ‘boy mode’. The nostalgia is so great that I almost have to remind myself that for the last several months, ‘boy mode’ is the only ‘mode’ I have anymore.

Fortunately, the gaming session helps to settle any remaining stress that I might have, just like it did in the old days. By the time we call it a day, I even have a smile on my face, and as Ollie leads me back downstairs, I turn to face the bespectacled young man.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“S’okay,” Ollie shrugs. “Always better to play with someone else than by your-“

“I mean, for everything,” I sigh. “You did give ‘Ian’ the jumpstart he needed. And despite what happened last February, everything did turn out for the best. In the end.”

“…You’re welcome,” Ollie mumbles, clearly still ashamed of his actions last Valentine’s Day.

“And yes, I do forgive you for that,” I sigh, extending my hand. “Friends?”

“Friends,” Ollie says with a tired chuckle, shaking my hand before leading me into the living room where the other girls- including Abbey-Gayle, who must have arrived whilst I was gaming- are sat gossiping.

“Typical BOY,” Ella teases. “Would rather play HIS silly little games than spend time with five gorgeous women…”

“…Sorry,” I mumble, barely suppressing a giggle. “Umm, hi, Abbey-Gayle.”

“Hey, Ian!” the dark-skinned girl says, jumping out of her seat to greet me with a tight hug. “God, the girls weren’t kidding, you look HAWT!”

“Thanks,” I laugh nervously as Abbey-Gayle gives my bicep a tight squeeze.

“Mmm,” Abbey-Gayle giggles. “If I weren’t going out with the son of a millionaire, I might just be tempted, hehe!”

“Thanks,” I laugh again. “Umm, congratulations, I, um, I mean for tomorrow. And your promotion…”

“Thanks!” Abbey-Gayle squeaks excitedly as she finally lets me sit down next to Ella, who briefly startles me by wrapping an arm around my slim waist. “I take it you’re coming tomorrow night, yeah? My first proper ‘Angel party’…”

“Sure,” I say. “Obviously I won’t be, you know, in costume…”

“Eww,” Abbey-Gayle spits with a giggle. “Who wants to see a BOY dressed as a bunny anyway?”

“I dunno,” I say. “There’ll be some people who say that I’ll always be a girl, no matter what I wear…”

“Well those people are thick, ain’t they?” Abbey-Gayle snorts. “It don’t matter what you got between your legs, you wanna be a girl, you should be a girl, you wanna be a boy, you should be a boy, yeah?”

“Yeah!” The other girls cheer, bringing a warm feeling to my chest.

“Thanks, thank you all,” I laugh.

“Just wish we’ known about Ian ‘bit earlier,” Abbey-Gayle giggles. “Could all be Angels now!”

“Yeah… Don’t think I fit the whole ‘Angel mould’,” I say, making Abbey-Gayle roar with laughter.

“You don’t got to be a girl to be an Angel!” The Jamaican girl laughs. “There’ll be boys there. Reckon Stuart especially will wanna talk to you, heh!”

“Yeah, I kinda want to talk to him too,” I say with a grin.

“Aww,” Abbey-Gayle says with a mock pout. “Here I was thinking that you came to see me…”

“I’m here to see everyone,” I say with a chuckle. “I know I left London in kind of a rush. And then I kinda lied to everyone for months…”

“THAT we can forgive, now we know why,” Brooke says, making me smile. “And like Abbey-Gayle says, you don’t need to be a girl to be an Angel, you don’t need to be a girl to be our friend either!”

“Thanks,” I say with a wide grin.

“We’re all heading out in a bit,” Abbey-Gayle announces. “Heading out to dinner, my treat. You can come if you want, Ian, the rest of us are bringing our boyfriends along.”

“Those of us who have boyfriends, anyway,” Ella sighs in an overdramatic voice, before letting out a playful giggle.

“You two will just have to go together, then!” Abbey-Gayle teases as she points to Ella and myself. “Though you ain’t wearing a football shirt to the restaurant, dress up a bit, yeah?”

“Yes, ma’am!” I retort, making Abbey-Gayle giggle. “What time’s your reservation?”

“Duh,” Abbey-Gayle snorts. “I’m an Angel now. Don’t need no reservation!”

“Even for, what, ten of us?” I ask.

“Trust me, you’ll see,” Brooke giggles. “So what time we meeting up, seven?”

“Yeah, seven works for me,” Abbey-Gayle says. “Gives us enough time to get ready.”

“Not that that will take me more than ten minutes,” I say, sitting back with a smug grin that only gets wider when Ella hits me in the face with one of the sofa’s cushions.

“I’ve got the Angelmobile outside so I’ll give yous all a lift home,” Abbey-Gayle says, and just as soon as I’d returned to the living room, I’m ushered out again.

After a quick taxi ride (during which I try not to feel embarrassed at being sat in the back of a bubblegum pink car), I find myself sat in Ella’s bedroom, trying not to stare too intently as the tall girl strips down to her underwear before sitting at her dressing table and enhancing her make-up.

“Umm… You don’t fancy any privacy, then?” I ask.

“You heard what Brooke said,” Ella retorts. “It’s nothing you’ve not seen before.”

“If you insist,” I shrug. “I see Abbey-Gayle’s as bossy as ever…”

“Eh,” Ella shrugs. “She gets us into the best clubs and the best restaurants, she can be as bossy as she wants.”

“So she hasn’t forgotten about you after all, then?” I ask. “Since becoming an Angel?”

“She just took some time to settle in with the new group, that’s all,” Ella says. Yes, of course she did, I think to myself. It wasn’t the case that she suddenly became a small fish in a big pond and missed being the boss…

“Fair enough,” I say.

“You disappeared for a LONG time with Ollie,” Ella says. “Kinda got worried there for a second, but then I remembered that if you and Ollie DID get into a fight…”

“No, no fighting,” I say. “No- well, none of the ‘opposite of fighting’ either. Just, well… What’s the word for it…?”

“Closure?” Ella asks.

“That’s as good a word as any,” I say. “I feel ‘more Ian’ now than I’ve ever done. Just wish I could get the same closure with my parents, or my grandmother…”

“They’ll soon be DESPERATE to accept you as their son, I guarantee it,” Ella says confidently.

“Mum only ever saw me as her possession and dad barely knew I existed,” I snort. “I’m not holding my breath.”

“Well, lucky that you’ve got your grandmother, isn’t it?” Ella giggles as she sprays on some perfume and reaches into her wardrobe for an outfit. “Not to mention loads of awesome friends, both here and in Wales!”

“True,” I say, smiling as Ella picks out a short, pleated minidress with matching strappy stilettos. After changing into her outfit, Ella does a playful twirl for me, showing off her model training (not to mention her model’s body).

“Wow,” I say, letting out a small giggle as Ella laughs along with me. “Even if you are now about a foot taller than me. Okay, my turn.”

“Go right ahead,” Ella says, staring at me with a devilish look in her eye. “Like I said, nothing I haven’t seen before…”

“Want to bet?” I ask, lifting my trouser leg to show Ella the thin, wiry hair growing on my shin.

“…FINE then,” Ella overdramatically sighs, before giggling and leaving me alone in her room. “And no looking through my drawers!”

“Like there’s anything in there I want to see anyway!” I retort, before swapping my jeans, trainers and football shirt for a pair of smart black trousers, a designer long-sleeved shirt and a pair of smart brown lace-up shoes. “Ready!”

“That was, like, five minutes,” Ella scoffs as she opens her door and sees me all dressed up and ready to go. “Ugh, BOY!”

“I’m taking that as a compliment,” I say with a grin as I follow Ella down to our waiting taxi, which whisks us toward the restaurant where the rest of our friends (and their boyfriends) are waiting.

It’s hardly the first time I’ll have been anywhere with ‘the boyfriends’- and they’ve all obviously been told ahead of time about my ‘change’- but it is weird to find myself included in their group rather than the girls’, especially after this morning. I actually find myself unconsciously gravitating toward where the girls are gathered by the ladies’ toilet, before Ella unceremoniously shoves me toward where the boys are sat at the bar.

“Alright, mate?” Reuben- Abbey-Gayle’s boyfriend- asks. “What d’you want?”

“Alright,” I reply. “There’s no way I’m not going to get ID’d so I’d better get a Coke, I suppose.”

“Not got your ID with you?” Andrew (Brooke’s boyfriend) asks.

“Not eighteen yet,” I reply, earning sniggers of laughter from the other boys.

“Umm…” Reuben asks, “don’t answer this if you don’t want to, but does- does your ID-“

“It’d be my student ID that I’d use,” I say. “And yes, it does say ‘gender: M’ on it.”

“It’s a bit weird, though,” Marley- Georgie’s boyfriend- says, making me wince and pray that he has at least slightly more tact than his girlfriend. “I mean, not you personally, there’s nothing wrong with being trans, like, but- like- the last time I saw you, you were, like, wearing a bikini on a beach. Now you’re dressed just like us.”

“Believe me, I’d rather have been dressed like this on that beach,” I say, making the other boys laugh.

“I bet,” Reuben laughs, leading to an awkward silence that’s only exacerbated by the realisation that all the other boys tower over me- especially the 6’ 2” Reuben and the 6’ 3” Marley. “So, umm… You- you got a team?”

“Yep,” I say with a smug grin that makes Marley groan.

“Don’t tell me,” the tall, blond boy says, “the team that can lose the last three letters of their name?”

“If by that you mean ‘the team that’s qualified for the champions league the last nineteen seasons in a row, then yes,” I retort, grinning at the good-natured boos this earns me.

“The team that’s never even won the fucking Champions League,” Reuben snorts.

“If it helps,” I say, “I also support the team that DIDN’T lose to Iceland in the Euros last year…"

“Sheep shagger!” Maisie’s boyfriend- whose name escapes me for now- yells, making everyone laugh- myself included.

Good-natured teasing like this may be one of the tougher aspects of being a boy, but at least it’s never anything personal, and I’m expected to (and can) give as good as I get- and as patriotic as I am, I’d rather be teased for being Welsh than for being trans. Before I can open my mouth to respond, though, a loud cough attracts the attention of the five of us, and we look up to see the five girls stood staring at us, arms folded and stern expressions on their faces.

“…Coming,” Reuben mumbles on behalf of us five boys, which makes the girls all giggle as they find their respective boyfriends (Ella grabbing my hand in the absence of an actual boyfriend) and lead us to our table.

Naturally, during the meal itself (which Abbey-Gayle insists on paying for- maybe Ella was right about her after all), the girls dominate the conversation, reducing us boys to the status of barely-interested onlookers. It’s almost a relief when the meal finally ends, not least because it’s almost 9:30pm and I am utterly exhausted after my long day. Before we go, however, Abbey-Gayle insists on crowding all of us around her for a selfie.

“Say hi to a hundred and twenty thousand Instagram followers, girls and guys!” The Jamaican girl laughs as she takes the picture, before arranging taxis for all of us back to our respective homes.

Once we’re back in Ella’s bedroom, I let out a sigh of relief as I remove my stiff shoes and thick socks, wiggling my toes to try to shake off some of the soreness.

“Oh- seriously?” Ella protests as she removes her shoes and waves their heels in my face. “YOUR feet hurt?”

“Seriously?” I retort. “YOU needed heels that high?”

“Duh- yes I did?” Ella snorts, before giggling and giving me a hug. As Ella is over eighteen, obviously she drank wine with the meal, and judging by her breath, she may have drank a little TOO much… “Okay,” the Australian girl concedes. “Maybe I didn’t. But I DID look hot tonight! …Right, Ian?”

“Yes, yes you did,” I say, making Ella giggle again.

“You know,” the tall, blonde girl laughs, “The night IS still young, and you’re not in London long…”

“I’m also still young,” I say, making Ella sigh sadly. “I assume you want us to hit a club, right?”

“Yeah,” Ella sighs. “But it’s okay. I’d want US to hit a club, not just me alone whilst you, I dunno, crash on the sofa watching Netflix or something.”

“I have got my iPad with me,” I shrug, making Ella giggle.

“We’re going to have a REALLY late night tomorrow, anyway,” Ella laughs, before giving me another hug. “Get some sleep, BOY. You’ll need it for tomorrow!”

“Yes, ma’am!” I laugh, gingerly returning Ella’s hug before heading into her bathroom and changing into a plain pair of shorts and a t-shirt (and letting out a loud sigh of relief as I remove the bandage from around my chest). Once I’m changed, I head down to Ella’s living room, where I climb under the thick sheets that have been draped over the sofa. Naturally, following the long day I’ve had, I’m soon asleep, though before I nod off, I check out the photo Abbey-Gayle put on Instagram. Unsurprisingly, it already has thousands of likes, though I have an additional reason to like it- the fact that there are five girls and five boys in the picture, and it couldn’t be more obvious which category I fall into.

Despite Ella’s sofa not being as comfortable as my bed in Cardiff, I have a smile on my face as I wake up the following morning, before letting out a small yelp of surprise when I look over and see an elderly woman staring at me with a smile on her face.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” the old woman- who, despite her English accent, must be Ella’s grandmother- says. “I’m sorry if I woke you, Ian.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” I mumble. No chance of getting back to sleep now, I think to myself. “Umm, thank you for letting me stay over…”

“You’re very welcome,” Ella’s grandmother says. “You’re certainly a lot more polite than the last few boys Ella’s brought home!”

“Umm… Yeah,” I mumble as I try to shake the tiredness out of my head. “Umm, you do- you do know-“

“Yes, I know,” Ella’s grandmother laughs. “We HAVE met before, Ian. You- or rather, the ‘old you’- have been here before, remember?”

“Ah- yeah, sorry,” I grimace. “It’s still kinda early…”

“It’s almost 9:30am!” Ella’s grandmother laughs. “Though for a teenager, that IS early… Don’t expect to see my granddaughter before eleven!”

“Heh,” I chuckle in response to the old woman’s joke.

“Though she’ll be up in plenty of time for your big party tonight,” Ella’s grandmother continues. “She’s been talking about it for weeks, even if she WILL be showing far too much skin in that ridiculous costume of hers. Sometimes I wish SHE’d be a bit more ‘boyish’. Still, you’re only eighteen once, and it not like she ever does anything indecent, either for work or for fun. And she does earn good money from her work, so am I to complain but an old prude?”

“Trust me, you are NOT an old prude,” I laugh as I remember the attitudes of my own paternal grandmother. “I wouldn’t be crashed here on your sofa if you were.”

“That’s very kind of you to say, Ian,” Ella’s grandmother says with a smile, which only widens when we hear a bump come from directly overhead. “Oh, I think she’s woken up… I’d better get some breakfast ready.”

“You- you don’t have to go to any trouble, not for me,” I say.

“Nonsense,” Ella’s grandmother says. “You’re my guest, and that means I have to feed you. How does bacon and eggs sound?”

“Sounds delicious,” I say with a grin as the old woman rises from her chair and heads to the kitchen.

Before long, the house is filled with the smell of frying food, which makes my mouth water even now, eight months after abandoning my parents’ organic, vegan ‘food plan’. It’s telling that since I started eating proper food, I haven’t had to take the iron and vitamin supplements I existed on during my early teenage years. Naturally, the smell attracts Ella downstairs, though the frown on her face hints that she maybe drank a bit more than she should have last night…

“Good morning!” My elderly host beams in a loud, cheerful voice that makes her granddaughter moan in pain. “I trust you had fun last night?”

“More fun than I’m having this morning,” Ella moans as she sips her sweet, black coffee. “You sleep well, Ian?”

“Yeah, fine, thanks,” I reply. “What we got planned for today? You working?”

“Nope,” Ella replies, a grin spreading across her face. “I’m yours for the whole day! Well, apart from tonight, anyway, hehe!”

“Will we be seeing the birthday girl before the party?” I ask.

“Think she’s out with her family all day,” Ella replies.

“…Fancy going somewhere for lunch, then?” I ask. “It can be my treat, my way of saying ‘thanks’ for putting me up.”

“It’s no burden to put you up!” Ella laughs. “Been nice to have a guest.”

“It has,” Ella’s grandmother concurs with a smile.

“And besides,” Ella says, “I’m the ‘rich model’ making money, you’re just a poor student. No offence, of course, but you know what I mean…”

“I can at least buy you a coffee, surely?” I ask, making Ella and her grandmother both smile.

“…Deal,” Ella says. “As long as it’s a strong coffee!”

“Very kind of you, Ian,” Ella’s grandmother says. “Much more generous than some young men who have sat at this table… I can’t help but blush as the elderly woman compliments me, but it soon dawns on me that she did actually just imply that she would rather her granddaughter dated a transgendered guy than some of the boys she’s gone out with in the past. Why can’t my whole family be this cool?

Of course, the coffee trip goes smoothly- both Ella and her grandmother talk openly about their lives, about Ella’s family in Australia, her mum, her dad and her two older brothers, and her aunts and uncles in the UK. Eventually, though, the time comes for us to return back to Ella’s home, and as she leads me up to her room to get changed for the party, she’s almost giddy with excitement.

“Eeeee!” Ella squeaks as she shuts the door behind us and immediately strips off the top, tights and shorts she wore to the café, once again not having a problem with parading around in her underwear in front of me. “This is going to be SO cool!”

“GIRL,” I tease as Ella parks herself in front of her dresser and begins enhancing her make-up to extreme levels, with thick eyeshadow and bright red lipstick.

“BOY!” Ella retorts. “Come on, aren’t you just a little excited? It’s, like, our first ever proper Angel party!”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to it,” I say. “But it’s just, you know, another party?”

“With celebrities there,” Ella says.

“One of whom is a close friend of ours who we hung out with last night,” I retort.

“Not while wearing this, we didn’t!” Ella giggles as she retrieves a shiny, strapless satin leotard from her wardrobe, playfully holding it against her body. “Now for this one, you WILL need to get out!”

“Fair enough,” I say, leaving the room to allow Ella to get changed in peace.

“Of course, if you’re jealous that I get to wear this costume and you don’t…” Ella shouts through her door.

“’Jealous’ isn’t the word I’m thinking of,” I reply, making Ella laugh. “The only reason I’d ever wear ANYTHING like that would be to give my grandmother a heart attack. The, um, evil grandmother, not the one I live with.”

“I guessed,” Ella says. “Reckon it’d finish off your mum and dad too?”

“Are you kidding?” I snort. “If mum knew I was going to this party she’d probably insist I go there wearing even LESS than that to try to get myself noticed.”

“Maybe she’d just be excited that you’re going at all,” Ella says. “I know how much she, you know, ‘pushed’ you, back when you, you know, lived in London…”

“’Pushed’ is putting it mildly,” I snort. “Part of the reason I’m not looking forward to this as much as you… It’s like, you know, I’m saying that she’s right? Does that make any sense?”

“I guess,” Ella muses. “But look at it this way- you don’t do ballet anymore. You don’t take acting classes, you don’t do any music classes anymore, you don’t do anything that would make you even close to famous. You’re only going to this party ‘cause a friend invited you, you’re not there to, you know, ‘network’.”

“Well- I suppose,” I mumble.

“And you’ll make everyone back home jealous,” Ella continues. No, I think to myself, there’s only one thing that’ll make Rob, Neil and Lee jealous, and THAT’s unlikely to happen.

“Only the girls at college,” I retort, making Ella giggle.

“Maybe they’ll start paying attention to the short, transsexual nerd,” Ella says, before emerging from her bedroom in her costume- the sight of which causes my jaw to drop.

“…I think you’ll be getting more attention than me tonight!” I laugh, earning a giggle and a hug from Ella as she takes off her ear-enhanced headband and pulls on long coat to cover herself up.

“You SURE you don’t want a costume like this?” Ella asks.

“Positive,” I reply, emerging from Ella’s room less than two minutes later in the smart shoes and trousers I wore yesterday, along with a new, short-sleeved designer shirt that shows off my fledgling muscles.

“Niiiice,” Ella giggles as she drinks in the sight of me in my shirt. “Don’t be so sure that I’ll be the one getting all the attention, hehe! There WILL be more girls than boys there tonight…”

“I guess,” I shrug as we head down to our waiting taxi.

“Aww,” Ella sighs. “Don’t guess, know! Take it from a girl- confidence is the most attractive quality a guy can have. And you’ve got a lot to be confident about, Ian. So you might as well look forward to the party, because trust me, you WILL have fun if you want to. Everyone there will be friendly and welcoming, and no one’s going to judge you because of your, well, ‘you know what’. They’d have to be a huge hypocrite if they did, seeing as there’ll be at least two, maybe three people there dressed like me who were born with dangly bits between their legs, and at least one other person dressed like you who was born with lady parts. Believe me when I say you are about to enter probably the safest safe space in the UK when it comes to trans people.”

“Oh, I know that,” I reply. “For once I’m NOT afraid of being ‘found out’, heh.”

“Then what, exactly, are you afraid of?” Ella asks me.

“…That I might enjoy it, maybe?” I shrug. “That I won’t fit in. That I WILL fit in. God, I don’t know! I- ugh. Sorry for snapping.”

“S’okay,” Ella mumbles, clearly taken aback by my outburst.

“I have this nice little comfort zone in Cardiff,” I say. “No offence, but there’s a bit of me that really wishes he didn’t accept your invitation.”

“Just as long as most of you IS pleased to be here,” Ella says with a snort of laughter. “Just. Relax. You’re going to this party to relax, have fun and make friends who WILL be willing and able to help you. I promise I’ll find Stuart- the other transman who’ll be there- as soon as we arrive, and I’ll introduce you to him. You won’t be expected to ‘perform’ or anything, just relax and be yourself. Us bunnies be the ones doing the ‘performing’!”

“Heh,” I nervously reply as the taxi approaches a large, looming mansion-like house, a house whose image I had practically forced down my throat during my teenage years- the house of Charlotte Hutchinson, also known as ‘the daughter my mother REALLY wanted’. If my mum knew I was coming here tonight…

As I step out of the taxi, I mentally resolve that no matter what, my mum must NEVER know I was ever here. If she can’t love me for who I am, then I’m not going to let her love me for whatever ‘fame’ I might gain from being here- which, hopefully, will be none.

Ella, however, seems determined to ‘put herself out there’ as much as possible, taking off her coat the second she steps through the front door and posing for the assembled photographers whilst I try to hang back out of view.

“Seriously?” I whisper to the Australian girl. “Paparazzi at a private birthday party?”

“They’re probably just Joshua’s photographers,” Ella replies, referring to the owner of the talent agency she’s signed to. “Either way, I’ve got to let everyone see my face…” I try to smile as Ella poses in her scandalously tight costume, though the second the photographers are done with her, we’re greeted by another bunny in a tight royal blue-coloured costume, whose right hip bears a rosette with the name ‘Jamie’ written on it.

“Hi!” Jamie giggles, giving Ella a hug before turning and greeting me with a polite handshake. “And you must be MISTER Ian Freeman, right?”

“Yep!” I nervously laugh. “And obviously, I know that you are MISS Jamie-Lee Burke!”

“Only for the next month,” Jamie giggles, holding up the diamond ring on her left hand. “Then I get to be MRS Jamie-Lee Milton, hehe!”

“Heh, congratulations,” I chuckle in a quiet, timid voice.

“Speaking of,” Jamie teases, “Ella here has told me all about you, about your, well, ‘history’… Something I can easily relate to, heh.”

“I know,” I say quietly, earning a sympathetic smile from the attractive young woman. It’s impossible to believe that just over six years ago, this goddess was a shrimpy, unemployed young man…

“I know someone who can relate to your specific ‘history’ a bit more than I can, though,” Jamie says, taking my hand and leading me into the party, which is already extremely busy with almost two dozen bunnies milling around, along with other young men and women in expensive, designer clothing. Even though my clothes aren’t exactly cheap, I still can’t help but feel completely out of place in this crowd.

I start to feel slightly calmer, however, when Jamie leads me toward a corner of the L-shaped room where a group of about half a dozen young men are stood, chatting privately and drinking beer. A loud cough from Jamie immediately brings them all to attention, and I once again feel myself shrink into my clothes as their eyes all turn toward me.

“MISTER Stuart Milton,” Jamie says with a smug grin, “meet MISTER Ian Freeman!”

“Umm, hi,” I mumble as one of the men, a shorter guy (the same height as me) with cropped brown hair who looks like he’s in his late twenties, steps forward and gives me a firm handshake.

“Hi, nice to meet you,” Stuart replies in a deep, middle-class accent.

“I’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” Jamie says. “But- and this goes for all you BOYS- you are NOT spending this whole party hidden away in a corner, you ARE going to mingle and you ARE going to have fun. Understood?”

“Yes, Jamie,” all the men- myself included- mumble.

“The ‘fun’ part goes especially for you, Ian,” Jamie says with a warm smile, before leaving us in our corner.

“We’ll leave you two to get acquainted,” one of the other guys- a tall, dark-skinned man- says as Stuart and I sit down in a nearby sofa.

“…So, um, hi,” Stuart says, obviously as nervous as I am.

“Hi,” I mumble in response.

“Do- do you, umm, want to get a drink?” Stuart asks.

“I’m only seventeen,” I mumble in response. “Umm… So, umm, you knew- you knew I was-“

“Yeah, Jamie told me, I think Ella told her,” Stuart says. “You can’t tell, you know.”

“…I meant ‘you knew I was coming’,” I say, making the older man snort with laughter.

“…Yeah, that too,” Stuart chuckles. “So, umm, how long have- have you, you know?”

”Eight months,” I reply. “You?”

“Eleven years,” Stuart says with a proud grin. “All ‘done’ too, as far as operations go anyway.”

“Not looking forward to THAT,” I laugh. “Though it’s better than, you know, constantly ‘bandaging’.”

“Ugh, definitely,” Stuart snorts. “I mean yes, it DOES hurt to begin with, and it leaves scars, but- but it’s, you know…”

“A small price to pay to go swimming with your friends without wearing a bikini top or a girl’s swimsuit?” I ask, grinning as Stuart smiles and nods.

“I know you probably came here hoping for some ‘divine insight’ or something,” Stuart says. “Truth be told, I’ve always been a bit jealous of the way Jamie has all her ‘protégés’. See that girl in the lilac coloured costume?”

“Yes…” I say as I gaze as the lilac-coloured bunny, who’s dancing with a group of other girls.

“She’s also trans,” Stuart explains. “Had her SRS last year when she was nineteen, and Jamie was pretty much on call 24/7 to offer any help, even if it was just a few words of encouragement.”

“Words that would naturally come easier to girls than to boys,” I say.

“EXACTLY,” Stuart says. “And of course, it’s not like I can drop everything and rush off to Wales if you have any issues, but if you have any questions about, you know, the ‘mechanics’ of transitioning, then just drop me a line anytime, I won’t mind.”

“Thanks,” I say, opening my mouth to ask another question before being interrupted by a familiar face looming over us.

“Oh my god,” the tall, blonde woman- who, oddly, isn’t wearing a bunny costume- says. “I’d heard you’d come back, MISTER ‘Artist formerly known as Kayleigh-Ann Walker’!”

“…Hi, Miss Fullerton,” I nervously say to my former ballet teacher.

“Ugh, you’re not my student anymore, you CAN call me Krystie!” The tall woman giggles as she sits down, wedging herself between me and Stuart despite the older man’s objections. “Now I know why you left in such a hurry, heh.”

“Yeah… Sorry about that,” I grimace.

“Oh, believe me, you have NOTHING to apologise for!” Krystie chuckles. “If I’d known then… Ka- sorry, IAN, I would NEVER have pushed you the way I did. I am truly, truly sorry.”

“No, no, it’s my fault for not speaking up earlier,” I sigh. “Sorry if it made things hard, what with your production last December…”

“Stop. Apologising!” Krystie orders me with a chuckle. “Besides, it all went well. Kinda ironic really, Laura White actually got the role I’d lined you up for. And take this however you want, but she is a MUCH better ballerina than you ever were.”

“…Think I’ll take that as a compliment,” I say, earning laughs from both Krystie and Stuart. “Umm, I understand congratulations, like, for you?”

“Thanks!” Krystie giggles as she rubs her slightly enlarged belly. “Four and a half down, four and a half to go... Not that this would interest you two, I guess.”

“…Some sacrifices are worth it,” Stuart shrugs. “And we’re still looking at adoption agencies.”

“…I’m seventeen, that’s why I’m not interested,” I say, earning more laughs from my new friends. “That, and I don’t want to be the kind of parent my parents were to me.”

“Aww,” Krystie sighs, giving my back a gentle rub. “I don’t mean to be, you know, insulting, but… I- I kinda, um, I really had a problem with the way your mother. No offence.”

“None taken,” I snort. “Trust me, your ‘problem’ with her can’t be as big as mine. That’s why I don’t live in London anymore… Part of why I very nearly didn’t come to this party.”

“Well I’m glad you did come,” Krystie says with a giggle. “If just so there’s someone else here who can’t drink alcohol, hehe! I guess it’s true what they say… Some girls are just born to be boys!”

“I always thought so,” Stuart says, laughing as Krystie gives him a playful shove.

“I hope this one’s offered up some words of advice,” Krystie laughs. “Words of ‘wisdom’ might be stretching it a bit, though!”

“I sent him a Facebook friend request before the party,” Stuart says. “I’m not exactly a ‘mentor-type’ person, I realise that now, but any way I can help, just let me know.”

“It won’t be the only friend request you get today,” Krystie says with a confident grin. “You might have some, well, ‘issues’ with your quote-unquote real family, Ian, but you’ve always got a surrogate family with us.”

“Literally,” Stuart says, “seeing as my sister’s engaged to her brother.”

“Hush, you,” Krystie orders Stuart, who laughs and mimes zipping his mouth shut. I open my mouth to respond, before a loud cough prevents me from talking. As one, the three of us on the sofa look up to see the royal blue bunny who welcomed us earlier stood with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.

“…What did I say about ‘having fun’?” Jamie asks.

“Yes, ma’am,” Stuart mumbles as he and I get up off the sofa, allowing Krystie to stretch out her body. “Come on Ian, I’ll get you a Coke.”

“Thanks,” I say with a grin as Jamie giggles behind our backs, before sitting down next to Krystie and chatting- no doubt about the two of us.

“You got a girlfriend?” Stuart asks. “Back in Cardiff, I mean.”

“Umm, no,” I say. “I’m kinda- kinda a nerd…”

“Meh, nothing wrong with nerds,” Stuart shrugs. “I mean, I’ve never played Warhammer or anything, but I don’t, like, look down on people who do. If there’s one lesson we both know, it’s never to judge people for the way they live their lives.”

“Definitely,” I laugh.

“And you can always get a few selfies with some of the Angels to take back to Cardiff,” Stuart shrugs. “That’ll get you some female interest!” I laugh as Stuart hands me my drink, before following Jamie’s orders and mingling with the crowd, chatting with some of the people present and dancing with some of the girls. More often than not, though, I find myself chatting with Stuart or some of his other friends (all of whom fully accept me as ‘one of the boys’) or Reuben and his friends, all of whom are here, or dancing with Ella, who’s clearly having the time of her life at this party.

However, all good things must come to an end, so just after 2am, Ella- who, despite her earlier hangover, has had a LOT to drink- and I climb into the back of a taxi that quickly whisks us back to her home. Despite stumbling a little in her heels, Ella leads me up to her bedroom, where she lets out a long (but quiet, so as not to wake her grandmother) sigh as she collapses on her bed, still wearing her tight costume.

“That was AWESOME,” Ella giggles.

“Lived up to expectations, then?” I ask.

“Everything I dreamed and more,” Ella sighed. “Though I am going to be SO glad to get out of this damned costume, hehe!”

“I’ll try not to look TOO smug,” I say, giggling as Ella sticks her tongue out at me.

“Soo…” Ella teases. “Did you have fun, Ian? Make new friends, maybe gain a ‘mentor’ or a ‘big brother’?”

“Meh, I got a handful of friend requests,” I shrug. “Not that they’ll be THAT close, I mean, tomorrow morning I’ll be on my way back to Cardiff, after all.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda way Facebook was invented, so you can keep in touch whenever and wherever,” Ella giggles. “I chat with my brothers most day and they live in Australia, for Christ’s sake!”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say. “It’s just- believe it or not, I actually had more fun this weekend just hanging out with you, rather than going to all these parties, hanging out with the other girls or even the other boys.”

“Aww, that is so sweet,” Ella says, sitting up and looking me in the eye. “I’ve really had fun too.” I smile and my heart races as Ella continues looking at me with a wide, happy grin on her face. For some reason, a memory suddenly pops into my head- the memory Ella telling me that for her, the most attractive quality a guy can possess is confidence. I take a deep breath to bolster my confidence, before leaning into the beautiful blonde girl and giving her a long, soft kiss on her lips that lasts for several seconds before we pull back from each other, a look of shock on both our faces.

“Umm, I-“ I stammer, before yelping in shock as Ella suddenly grabs my head and gives me a long, deep, probing kiss that I’m only too happy to reciprocate.

The next few minutes pass by in a haze as Ella and I are whipped up in a whirlwind of pure lust, which only ends when both of us collapse back on her bed, our naked bodies slick with sweat. Thanks to her drunken state, Ella is quickly asleep, but I’m so energised I lay awake for several minutes, staring at the blonde girl in a state of near disbelief. Ella, the tall, gorgeous model who parties with celebrities… Has just had sex with me. More than that, she’s taken my virginity, and if she wasn’t asleep right now, it’d take all of my willpower not to make love to her once again… A part of me even feels like I love her.

I must have eventually drifted off to sleep, as the next thing I’m aware of is being woken by the sound of Ella’s curtains opening and a bright light shining on my tired face.

“…Morning,” the already fully-clothed Ella mumbles, clearly a lot more ‘reserved’ than she was last night.

“Morning,” I whisper. “So, umm…”

“Yeah…” Ella whispers. “Ian, I- about last night, I…”

“…Sorry?” I ask, biting my lip nervously.

“Oh- no, I DEFINITELY enjoyed last night,” Ella says, making me smile. “I don’t regret it at all, so no worries there, it’s just- you- you’re really not the person I thought I’d end up in bed with this weekend!”

“So- so I was just imagining you flirting with me, then?” I mumble.

“…I wouldn’t have had sex with you if I wasn’t attracted to you,” Ella says. “It’s just- well, you know, you live in Wales, I live in London… It’s not like we can be, you know, a ‘regular’ thing…”

“Oh,” I mumble, even as I’m forced to acknowledge that Ella is talking sense.

“I mean, next time you’re in London,” Ella says, “or if I’m ever in Cardiff, and we’re both single… Ian, I- I don’t really want a long-distance relationship, not right now.”

“…You come from Australia and you consider London to Cardiff to be ‘long distance’?” I counter.

“How much did your train ticket cost again?” Ella retorts, and I’m forced to concede the point.

“But- but you still want, you know, to be friends, right?” I hesitantly ask.

“Oh, definitely!” Ella says, sitting down next to me and giving me a gentle hug. “We can even do ‘friends with benefits’ if you want. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you really know your way around ‘down there’, heh.”

“Works for me, I suppose,” I shrug. “It- it was my favourite part of last night, you know.”

“…Mine too,” Ella says with a smile. “Now come on, get up and get dressed, reckon we’re going to have a LOT of explaining to do, heh!” I smile as I get up and pull on a fresh set of underwear (including my bandage), followed by my jeans and my trusty Wales football shirt, though inside, there’s a part of me that’s disappointed in Ella’s reaction to last night, and a part of me that really wishes I was staying in London just a little bit longer.

However, my home is in Cardiff, not London, so after a quick breakfast with Ella’s grandmother- who, surprisingly, doesn’t make any comment at the fact that I obviously didn’t sleep on the sofa last night- I head back to Paddington station, where I try to suppress my emotions as I bid Ella farewell with a long, tight hug. This last week has been probably the most manic of my entire life, and that’s saying something. One thing’s for certain, though- as much as I’ll miss Ella, I will be happy to be back within my ‘comfort zone’. And I can always chat with Ella on Facebook anytime I want… Though there’s no way our friendship will ever be the same again.

After getting off the train at Cardiff Central Station, I actually breathe a sigh of relief when I head out into the car park and see my grandmother waiting for me in her car.

“I take it you enjoyed your ‘weekend’ away?” Grandma asks as I climb into the car with a massive smile on my face.

“I did,” I sigh happily. “I mean, it was pretty tiring, and I’m glad to be home, but all being told, I am glad I went.”

“Good, good,” grandma says. “Your friend Rob called earlier this morning, wanting to know when you’ll be home.”

“I’ll call him when I get back,” I say.

“He wasn’t the only person who called,” grandma says, her voice suddenly turning dark. “Ian, you- your mother called earlier this morning.”

“…What did she want?” I ask.

“She said,” grandma says, “and these are her words, not mine… She said ‘I hope my son enjoyed his party last night, and his meal on Thursday’.”

“…’My son’?” I ask.

“Those were her words,” grandma whispers as I let out a long, frustrated sigh. “Ian, this- this IS a step in the right direction.”

“Yeah,” I moan. “If that direction is ‘me being a global celebrity’. She only wants to accept me because I hung out with a load of famous people last night and she wants to leech off of it.”

“But she DOES want to accept you, Ian,” grandma insists. “Just a few days ago she said that you were dead to her.”

“I want her to accept me for who I am, not for my Facebook friends list,” I say. “One of the celebrities she adores so much- the one who used to teach me ballet- actually told me last night that mum’s attitude disturbed her.”

“…Ian, do you want to have a relationship with your mother?” Grandma asks.

“…Yes,” I sigh. “But on my terms. Not hers.”

“Families always compromise,” grandma says. “And I don’t mean that you should be the only one who compromises, I’ll make sure that your mother does as well.”

“Guessing she didn’t say anything about dad?” I mumble.

“…No, she didn’t,” grandma concedes. “Ian, you might not get another opportunity like this.” I’m forced to chuckle as grandma says this to me because of the many things it could refer to. Another opportunity to make up with mum? Another opportunity to be part of the ‘Angel’ family? Another opportunity to be with Ella…

“If she wants to come to Cardiff to meet her son, then that’s up to her,” I say defiantly, despite my grandmother's frown. "If she's willing to accept me when I'm playing D&D with Rob, Neil and Lee, THEN I'll talk to her again."

"Fair enough," grandma sighs, knowing as well as I do that what I just said would be a deal breaker for my mother. "That is absolutely, 100% fair. You- you just rest, try to relax for the rest of the holiday, Ian. You've definitely earned it!"

"Thanks," I whisper.

"Though you ARE getting up early tomorrow for church!" Grandma says firmly. "Especially since you missed Good Friday yesterday!"

"Yes, grandma," I say with a chuckle as we head back home- the one place where I do truly feel 'at home'.

My parents- especially my mother- have made their feelings clear. Male or female, all I am to them is a possession, only worthy of their love if I 'obey'. Which I have no intention of doing. By contrast, Stuart and his friends seemed genuinely interested in getting to know Ian the person, and most of them had never even heard of me before Abbey-Gayle's party. And then there's Ella...

Obviously, I'm not going to 'kiss and tell' with the boys. Especially as I can't decide what my feelings toward Ella even are. Do I love her? Would I be happy being just 'friends with benefits'? Or even just friends without benefits? One thing's for sure, Ella's going to go all out to be a part of the 'Angel family', so if I DID start a relationship with her, it'd make my mother love me more, but for all the wrong reasons, which might even make me resent Ella...

Ugh. Things were so much simpler when I just stayed in Cardiff, minding my own business...