“Hey, fellow teenager!” Suriya giggles as she answers her front door and ushers me into her home.

“Your birthday was three days ago, you can’t celebrate it for the whole week!” Priya laughs at her younger sister.

“Just watch me!” Suriya retorts. “Everyone else is here, all the other FOUR girls…” I grin as I realise what Suriya means when she says there are four other girls besides me, her sister and herself- and when I step into her kitchen, I giggle at the sight of Ashley in the makeshift make-up chair, HER face enhanced by the same level of mascara, eye liner and lipstick as my other friends’ and HER body clothed in a cute, knee-length yellow dress that used to be Suriya's.

“Hey girlies!” I squeak happily, greeting all of my friends- including Ashley- with brief girly hugs before taking my place in the make-up chair.

“Hey Laura,” Megan giggles.

“You actually managed to drag yourself away from PHIL to be with us?” Harriet teases as she applies my mascara for me. “How many times have you seen him over the Easter holiday, anyway?”

“Only a few times,” I protest.

“And how many times did he have his tongue stuck down your throat?” Nicole asks, making me giggle nervously at the memory.

“…Same number of times,” I squeak, making the whole room giggle in a high-pitched squeak. “He is SUCH a good kisser…”

“And where did you get that skirt?” Harriet asks, seemingly uncomfortable with the topic of boys and kissing.

“This?” I ask as I play with the pleats of my black denim skirt. “It was £5 from Asda. A better question would be where did Suriya get her skirt?” The small Indian girl giggles as she does a quick twirl, showing off her tight striped miniskirt.

“Birthday money, obviously,” Suriya giggles. “Same as that lipstick you’re putting on now, and same as this…” I watch with surprise as Suriya lowers the back of her skirt just enough to reveal that she ISN’T wearing the same type of panties I’m wearing now.

“…A thong?” Megan asks with surprise and concern in her voice.

“Yeah, so what?” Suriya laughs. “Teenaged girls wear thongs, I’m a teenaged girl…”

“Barely!” Priya says, her voice also full with concern for her sister.

“And it’s not like she’s the only one of us who wears them,” Nicole says smugly, earning gasps from the others- myself included. “Not right NOW, obviously, but as Suri said, we’re teenaged girls…”

“And they are SO comfortable,” Suriya giggles as she makes a show of sitting down in a nearby chair.

“AND you can wear them under leotards without them showing under the fabric,” Nicole interjects.

“You know dad will go mental if he finds out,” Priya says.

“Whatever, I’ll just say they’re Mohan’s,” Suriya says, making her sister laugh despite herself.

“Better than saying that they’re mine,” Priya chuckles.

“…I want one,” I say confidently.

“Well you’re not having any of mine!” Suriya laughs.

“Shopping trip after the makeover?” Nicole says, before grimacing as she sees Ashley suddenly look VERY scared. “Oh god Ash, I’m sorry, I- I kinda forget…”

“I can’t really go out like this…” Ashley sighs.

“Then I’ll get you something to wear over your dress,” Suriya says. “And some tights to wear on your legs, some shoes for your feet… No one will notice you!"

“You won’t be out long, either,” Megan says. “The supermarkets only around the corner…”

“Trust me,” I say with a smile. “If I can go out like this, so can you!”

“Yeah, but,” Ashley argues. “You’re- you know, pretty…” I blush slightly as the other girls all ‘ooh’ at the compliment.

“Aww, thanks!” I giggle, giving Ashley a brief hug. “And you know, if you DO go out, we’ll all support you, right?”

“Right!” My friends all say.

“Well… Okay then,” Ashley laughs to a mass cheer. “But I don’t really have any money on me to buy anything…”

“Trying things on doesn’t cost any money,” Nicole says as Suriya disappears upstairs, returning a short while later with a coat, a pair of tights and a pair of shoes that Ashley immediately pulls on.

“Dad!” Priya yells as the seven of us leave the house. “We’re going to Sainsbury’s for lunch, we’ll be back in a bit!”

“Okay, take care!” Mr. Malik yells back. I take a deep breath as I step out into the cool April air- it was around this time two years ago that I started living as a girl- albeit part-time- and in the intervening time, so much has changed. I have my own ‘posse’, I’m a ballerina, a gymnast, an actress… And to all intents and purposes, I AM a proper girl. And yet as much as things have changed, certain things have remained the same. I am now the shortest in our group- apart from Ashley, that is- and I am noticeably the least ‘developed’. I still take my boy blockers, of course, and I still take laxatives, but even there I find myself feeling bloated after almost every meal. Sometimes I actually cry myself to sleep, it’s as though I’ll NEVER be a ‘real’ girl…

I still see Dr Williamson, of course, and I tell her about all my anxieties, but the only help she offers is advice and techniques to help control my thought processes. I’ve not been offered any anti-anxiety medication or anything, and I’ve certainly not been offered any oestrogen, no matter how much I literally beg her for it. So I remain trapped in limbo, not a full girl, but certainly not a boy either…

“So, Laura, see anyTHONG you like the look of?” Nicole giggles as the seven of us wander around the supermarket’s vast underwear department.

“Umm, I dunno,” I say as I inspect the small panties in their packets. “It’s kinda a big step, I’d have to hide them from my mum…”

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts!” Suriya laughs. “You were the one who wanted to come out shopping!” I roll my eyes and giggle, before picking a packet of 5 small patterned thongs from the rack. After paying for the underwear, we head down to the supermarket’s café for lunch. I opt for a light salad instead of the hot, fattening meals my friends choose, but even that leaves me feeling bloated and tired as we head back to Priya & Suriya’s home.

“You know,” I sigh, drawing the attention of my friends, “I’m kinda glad we didn’t stay in there long, after last summer I’ve kinda developed a phobia of supermarkets, heh…”

“Oh god, Laura,” Suriya gasps. “I’m so, so sorry! If I’d remembered-“

“It’s okay,” I laugh as we sit down in the Maliks’ vast living room. “It’s actually kinda good, you know? Something I can ‘show off’ to my counsellor next Friday…”

“And meanwhile,” Nicole giggles, “you’ve got something in your bag there that you can show off to PHIL!”

“Oh, no,” I giggle. “THAT area is off-limits until I’m sixteen!”

“Good girl,” Priya laughs, giving me a quick hug that makes me squirm slightly.

“Yeah,” Harriet agrees. “Make him work for it, even if all he has to do is wait! You know there are some girls in our year who have already lost their virginity?”

“One of the girls in my year actually fell pregnant before the Easter break,” Priya muses, before a sly smirk creeps across her face. “I reckon we should get some earplugs for Ashley!”

“I know what sex is,” Ashley laughs as she straightens her tights.

“Well you’re not having any with my sister,” Priya threatens. “Not until you’re BOTH sixteen!”

“If the thong isn’t for Phil’s ‘benefit’, even if it is ‘look don’t touch’,” Megan says, “who’s, you know, ‘benefit’ is it for?”

“Mine,” I say candidly. “I want to be as girly as possible as fast as possible… I’m not allowed oestrogen so I can’t change my body, only what I put on it…”

“You’re so lucky that you even have that option,” Ashley sighs as he stares at my body, which is covered in not just my pleated denim skirt, but cute patterned tights, a long-sleeved top and knee-high flat boots.

“You CAN have that option too!” Suriya urges her boy/girlfriend. “All you have to do is tell your parents and you’ll be just as much a girl as Laura is.”

“And as Laura is just as much a girl as we are,” Harriet says, “that’d mean that you’d be just as much a girl as us!” Ashley giggles at the support she’s receiving, but I can tell that she’s STILL unsure.

“What if-“ Ashley asks. “What if I decide later on that I’d prefer to be a boy? Like, I enjoy being a girl, but what if I didn’t want to be full time?”

“Trust me, you will!” I giggle.

“If you decide you’d rather be a boy, then you just say that to your parents too,” Priya says, shooting a disapproving look in my direction. “You have to do what’s right for you.”

“…It’s still too much,” Ashley sighs, earning a hug from her girlfriend.

“I’ll give you one of my thongs if you will…” I tease, earning a VERY disapproving stare from Priya.

“Leave the poor girl alone!” Priya chastises me. “It has to be a decision she makes herself.”

“Though I can’t help but notice that SHE smiles every time we refer to HER as HER,” Harriet teases.

“…It is nice to be ‘one of the girls’,” Ashley giggles. After Mr. Malik drops me home later, I muse on how right Ashley is in what she says- I AM lucky in that I’ve been given the chance to live my life the way I want, but for every ‘chance’ I’ve been given, it’s always come with a condition- something that’s hammered home as I hide my new thongs underneath my bed, next to my packets of laxatives. Not wanting to wait, I pull one of the slender panties out of its packet and hold it up, examining the narrow back. Within seconds, I've stripped off my tights and my panties and stepped into the thong, pulling it up my legs until it's tight around my hips and the narrow back is nestled between my buttocks. Suriya's right- it IS comfortable, though the sensations it creates when it moves as I walk around will take some getting used to!

I have a smirk on my face as I sit down for my evening meal, my thong still in place underneath my tights and my skirt, though the smile falls when I see the large plateful of shepherd’s pie mum puts on the table in front of me.

“Go on, tuck in!” Mum urges. “Need to get some meat back on your bones, you’re practically wasting away!” Chance’d be a fine thing… I self-pityingly think to myself.

“Mum,” I say hesitantly. “Next time… Next time you go clothes shopping, could- could you buy me some thongs, please?” Mum pauses eating, clearly surprised by my sudden question.

“Why would you need thongs?” Mum asks.

“Umm, to wear under my leotards for dance and gymnastics,” I reply, silently thanking Nicole.

“But you don’t have any problem with that, do you?” Mum asks. “Nothing ‘shows’ through your leotards, and you’re taking your anti-androgen tablets so that nothing ever will…” Realising I’m losing the argument, I try a different approach.

“What if,” I say, “I buy them with my own pocket money?” Mum simply giggles and shakes her head.

“Laura…” Mum asks with a smirk, “have you already bought some thongs?”

“…Maybe,” I mumble, immediately realising I’ve been ‘busted’.

“I can’t stop you spending your pocket money on things you want,” mum sighs, “even if you are FAR too young for thongs.”

“Nicole and Suriya wear them,” I say. “And they’re younger than me…”

“Ah, peer pressure,” mum laughs. “Yeah, I remember that… Laura, please tell me you’re old enough to understand that just because your friends do something, it doesn’t mean that you have to as well?”

“I know,” I say. “I’m wearing one because I want to, not because the other girls do…”

“You’re wearing one now?” Mum asks. Busted for the second time in as many minutes…

“…Yes,” I mumble, making mum sigh.

“Okay,” mum says. “But you’re ONLY to wear them when you have gymnastics club- CLUB, not class- or ballet. So I don’t expect to see any more than two in any weekly wash, understood?”

“Understood,” I say with a smile.

“Good, because there will be BIG trouble if I find more than two in there,” mum says. “You are growing up far, FAR too fast…” If only… I think to myself as I choke down my mountain of food.

I don’t finish my meal- I tell my mum I had a large lunch- and I take a laxative to relieve the bloated feeling in my stomach before changing for bed (leaving my thong off after taking the laxative, of course). The pain in my stomach from the large meal actually makes it hard for me to get to sleep (and makes me slightly nauseous), but I do eventually get to sleep, waking up at 10am and dragging my tired, bloated body downstairs for a mercifully light breakfast.

“Are you okay, Laura?” Mum asks as she notices me eating even slower than usual. “Just a bit miserable that it’s the last day of the holidays?”

“Yeah, kinda,” I say, making mum laugh.

“Well, you’ve got six weeks at summer to look forward to,” mum says. “And I know you enjoy school, at least some of it- AND you’ve got rehearsals for your play tomorrow.” Mum giggles as I smile upon being reminded of the play.

“Are you smiling because of the acting,” mum teases, “or because you know Phil will be there too?”

“…Kinda both,” I giggle.

“I hope he’s not going to be seeing you wearing a thong for a VERY long time!” Mum half-warns, making me giggle louder.

“No, they’re for me and me only!” I say.

“Good,” mum says. “And make sure your grandmother doesn’t find out about them either, you know she’s thinks you’re growing up too fast as it is…”

“Can do,” I laugh as I finish my breakfast and change into a pair of clean underwear- including a training bra and a pair of non-thong panties- a new pair of black tights, the same skirt and boots I was wearing yesterday and a dark blue long-sleeved top. Even though we’re going to grandma’s- who strongly disapproves of me doing anything even remotely adult- I sit down in front of my dresser and open my make-up drawer, pulling out a well-used eyeliner pencil, a nearly empty tube of mascara and a tube of pale pink lip liner, all of which I apply to my prepubescent face to make it look just a tiny bit older. I even spray on a tiny amount of perfume.

“Ready,” I announce as I skip down the stairs.

“Your grandma will still say that’s too much make-up,” mum laughs as we head out to her car. Sure enough, when we arrive at grandma’s, she greets me with a hug and a tut when she sees the make-up on my face.

“That’s too much make-up, young lady,” grandma playfully admonishes me, making me blush. “And is that perfume?”

“…Yes,” I mumble, my gaze fixed to the floor.

“…Well it smells very nice,” grandma says with a smile. “Very feminine! Your nails look very pretty too- though I trust you’ll take the polish OFF before you go back to school tomorrow?”

“Of course!” I giggle as I slump onto grandma’s sofa.

“And sit up,” grandma laughs. “I thought they taught you good posture at ballet?”

“They do,” mum laughs, “but no amount of ballet tuition will override the fact that she's a teenager!” I blush an even deeper shade of red as mum and grandma have a good-natured giggle at my expense, but before long I’m also giggling as we gossip about all manner of subjects- Ricky’s recent application for promotion, mum’s work, my school… I manage to forget about my worries for a brief while, until grandma summons us both into the kitchen to help prepare dinner- and the sheer amount of food she’s preparing almost turns my stomach, and when I sit down to eat the meal, it’s all I can do not to throw up then and there.

“Come on,” grandma urges. “Get it down you, you’re practically wasting away!” I’m not though, that’s the problem… I self-pityingly think to myself as I tuck into the hearty meal. On the way home, I have to make an effort not to moan with discomfort at the amount of food sitting in my stomach- obviously I couldn’t not finish the food and appear ungrateful, so I cleaned my plate- and now I’m deeply regretting that decision.

“Full?” Mum asks, chuckling as I nod.

“Stomach actually HURTS,” I moan. “I mean, I love grandma’s cooking, just not that much of it!”

“You know grandma wouldn’t be too offended if you don’t clean your plate,” mum says. “But she IS right, you have been eating less and less lately… You need to keep your strength up for your dance and your gymnastics!” Yeah… But I can’t very well be a ballerina or a gymnast if I’m the size of a house…

Needless to say, the second I arrive home I head up to my bedroom to take a laxative, breathing a sigh of relief as it works its magic and relieves me (however briefly) of my uncomfortable bloating. Once I’m ‘relieved’, I head back to my bedroom to finish off my homework, but as I complete the work, I find myself increasingly drawn to my tablet computer, and after finishing a particularly difficult maths problem, I ‘reward’ myself by switching on the tablet and opening Facebook, grinning when I see one particular name that’s also logged in.

‘Hey Phil xxxx,’ I type to my boyfriend, giggling as he responds almost immediately.

‘Hey Laura xxxx,’ Phil replies. ‘Had a good weekend?’

‘Yep!’ I type. ‘You?’

‘Yeah… Missed you though,’ Phil types, making me shiver excitedly.

‘Missed you too xxx,’ I type. ‘Will you be at rehearsal tomorrow?’

‘Of course,’ Phil types. ‘Mr. Easton says we might do Romeo & Juliet in Year 9. Feel like auditioning for Juliet?’

‘Only if you’re Romeo xxx,’ I type, earning a blushing emoji from Phil in reply.

‘G2G now,’ Phil types. ‘Got to finish off my homework. Ttyl xxxx’

‘xxxx,’ I reply as Phil logs out. I quickly finish off my own homework and head to bed a short while later, thoughts of my boyfriend still flowing around my mind. Ever since our ‘first date’ in February, Phil and I have been spending more and more time together- we see each other every Monday at rehearsals, and have been on other dates as well (chaperoned by either of our mothers or Phil’s brother or sister, of course). And yes, we have kissed each other. A lot. Using tongues, too. Every time Phil kisses me it makes me go weak at the knees, especially when he places his hands on my body, it’s like he’s shooting little bolts of electricity through his fingers…

My alarm clock wakes me on the first day of the new term at 7:15am, though it feels like I’ve barely got ANY sleep, and I’m half-awake as I eat a light breakfast, take my boy blocker, remove my nail polish and pull on my trusty school uniform ready for the week ahead. I perk up when I meet my six friends at the school gate, all of whom (even Ashley) greet me with brief hugs as we head to our respective forms. Throughout the day, looking around at my fellow students, it’s a relief to see I’m not the only one struggling to get back into the school routine after a long break- even the normally-perky Nicole gets admonished for yawning in class. By lunchtime, however, we’ve all ‘woken up’ a little- which is for the best as Nicole, Suriya and I head to dance club, where we’re all practising a routine for the final full-school assembly of the year.

“God, can’t believe how tired I am,” I complain as I strip out of my school uniform and pull on my baby blue leotard, followed by my skin-tight black shorts.

“You’ve been tired a lot lately,” Suriya says. “Is everything okay, you’re not, you know, ill or anything, are you?”

“Nope,” I say. “Well, I get the occasional stomach ache, but other than that I’m fine…”

“Stomach aches shouldn’t make you tired,” Suriya observes as she finishes changing into her own leotard and shorts, before following myself and Nicole up to the gymnasium where the rest of the fifteen-strong club is waiting for us. For the next thirty minutes, we run through our final routine over and over, drilling it into our minds so that in three months’ time, when we’re called upon to perform it live, there will be no mistakes. For now, however, there are mistakes, kinks to iron out- and as I prepare to head back down to the toilets (which still serves as my, and, when they think they can get away with it, my friends’ private changing room), I’m called back by our dance teacher, who has a concerned look on her face.

“Laura,” Miss Ellison says quietly. “I noticed out there you weren’t QUITE up to your normal standard… Is everything alright?”

“Umm, yeah,” I say. “Just, um, tired after the holidays, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay,” the teacher says. “Well, there’s still three months until the performance… Just make sure you give it 100% next week, okay?”

“Okay!” I say with a smile, before heading down to the toilets where (along with Nicole and Suriya) I pull my tights, blouse and skirt back on over my leotard. As I find myself struggling to concentrate during my final lesson- English- I begin to wonder whether or not Suriya and Miss Ellison might have a point. I AM more tired than usual, and half an hour of dancing certainly didn’t help… Then again, as mum and grandma constantly remind me, I AM a teenager, and when my brother was my age he definitely spent most of his free time asleep.

As the lesson ends, I make a mental note to mention my fatigue to Dr Williamson when I see her on Friday, but as I get in Mr. Malik’s people carrier along with Nicole, Suriya, Harriet and Ashley, I have only one thing on my mind, and more specifically one person, who greets me with a smile as I step out of the large vehicle.

“Hi Laura!” Phil says with a goofy smile that matches my own.

“Hi Phil!” I giggle, ignoring the ‘ooh’s of my friends as I slip one of my hands into his. Even though he’s only a month older than me, Phil’s already a lot taller than I am- and every time we speak in person, his voice seems a little deeper with each word he says.

“Laura and Phil, sitting in a tree…” Suriya mocks in a sing-song voice.

“Says the girl whose boyfriend is stood right there!” I retort, giggling as Suriya grabs Ashley’s hand.

“Ugh, too many couples,” Harriet sighs, before an evil smile creeps across her face and she grabs Nicole’s hand, causing the tall brown-haired girl to giggle at the confused whispers as the two young women walk into the school hall hand-in-hand.

“Why DON’T you have a boyfriend anyway?” I ask Harriet as we take our seats and wait for the teacher to start the rehearsal session. “You know there are plenty of boys at school who like you, even some year nines…”

“Yeah, but I don’t like THEM,” Harriet giggles.

“Okay, settle down,” Mr. Easton says as he gets up on stage. “Performance is two months away so I need everyone to really get their heads down and get their lines learned today, and that includes understudies. We’re going to be working on act 2, so for the first half hour, I want you to rehearse that, then we’re going to do a run-through of that act up on stage. Everyone clear with what they’re doing?”

“Yes, Mr. Easton,” the entire hall replies in unison.

“Good,” the tall drama teacher says, giving us all a double thumbs-up. Get cracking- I want this to be the best performance our schools have ever put on! I giggle as I head to an empty part of the hall with Nicole, Suriya, Harriet and two girls from Phil’s school. After being persuaded to audition by Nicole and Suriya, I applied for the role of Anna- and got it. Suriya and Nicole auditioned for the roles of Sophie and Meredith respectively and were also cast in those roles, with Harriet being cast as my understudy and Hannah and Tamsin (the two girls from Phil’s school) being cast as Nicole and Suriya’s understudies respectively.

“Hey Sophie!” I squeak in an excited voice. “I am SO looking forward to the dance this Saturday!”

“Oh, I KNOW!” Suriya gushes. “Hey, d’you reckon OLLIE will be there?”

“Yeah, Anna,” Nicole teases. “Noticed you and him swapping notes in class…” I giggle bashfully- an act, of course- as the three of us run through our lines. The play we’re rehearsing is a high school musical-style production set in the late 1950s. The characters of Anna, Sophie and Meredith are secondary characters to the main leads (played by year 11 pupils) but play a fairly big role in the first two acts. Sadly, the character of Ollie ISN’T being played by Phil… But as Phil hinted yesterday, there is always Romeo & Juliet next year…

After an hour of going over our lines over and over again, I step up on stage with my friends and run through the whole of act 2- and unlike at dance club, my performance goes flawlessly, earning (along with all the other actors and actresses) a standing ovation from all my friends. After congratulating us on our performance, Mr. Easton dismisses the class, and as I step off the stage, Phil comes over to me with the same goofy grin he’s had on his face all afternoon.

“You were great,” Phil says, holding my hand as we walk back to the car park.

“Thanks,” I giggle. “You were great too…” We walk through the car park in silence until we reach Phil’s mother’s car.

“I, um, I have to go…” Phil says, before awkwardly leaning in close to me. After what feels like an eternity, our lips meet, and I close my eyes as our lips part I feel the tip of his tongue start to meet mine…

“Laura!” Suriya yells. “Come on, put him down, we need to go!” I giggle as I let Phil get into his car and follow Suriya back to her dad’s people carrier, my body still tingling from my brief encounter with my boyfriend.

“FINALLY able to drag yourself away from him then?” Nicole teases as I sit down next to her and smooth my pleated skirt over my grey tights.

“And how far down your throat did Jordan stick his tongue last Thursday?” I ask with a smug face. “Ashley, cover your ears!”

“No chance,” Ashley says, laughing as Suriya playfully sticks her slender fingers in his ears.

“Do you remember when we used to talk about things OTHER than boys?” Harriet asks. “No offence, Ashley.” Nicole, Suriya and I all giggle as Harriet winks at Ashley- reminding him that as far as she’s concerned, he’ll always be one of the girls.

“Okay then,” Nicole says. “How about the pointe shoes Miss Fullerton says we’ll all be getting at some point in the next few months?”

“Great, more expensive uniforms to buy,” Mr. Malik quips, making us all laugh.

“You can afford it, daddy,” Suriya giggles. “Just wait until I’m in year 10 and you have a cheerleader’s uniform to wash every week!” The five of us giggle as Mr. Malik mockingly tuts and shakes his head all the way home. I’m the first to be dropped off, and after bidding farewell to my friends, I head straight to my bedroom to make a start on my homework.

“Laura?” Mum shouts. “Is that you?”

“Yep,” I reply.

“Do you want me to get you some dinner?” Mum asks.

“Umm, no thanks,” I lie- I AM hungry, but the last thing I need now is to feel bloated for the rest of the night, and it would be nice to not have to take a laxative tonight. “We, um, we went to a drive-through.”

“Oh, okay,” mum says. “Well, let me know if you do get hungry.”

“Will do,” I say- though obviously, I don’t request any food before I climb into bed, utterly exhausted, at 9:30pm. I fall asleep almost immediately, but I still feel tired when I wake up ten hours later and run through my morning routine, taking my boy blocker, pulling on my uniform and packing my school bag with my ‘normal’ PE outfit of a pair of navy blue shorts and a white t-shirt- which I change into a short while later (alongside the defiant Nicole, Suriya and Harriet) in my ‘private changing room’. As it’s now the summer term, we no longer do gymnastics during PE, meaning I only have to wear my team leotard once a week. Instead of gymnastics, today we’re taking tennis. Well, we girls are playing tennis- as I look over at the boys leaving their changing rooms carrying their shin pads and cricket bats, I’m more grateful than ever to belong to the gender I’ve chosen to live as.

…Though when I stagger back to my ‘changing room’ forty-five minutes later, I find myself almost wishing that I HAD been playing cricket- from what little I know about the sport, it involves a LOT less running than tennis, especially when playing with someone as athletic and as competitive as Nicole.

“Hope you’ve got enough energy for drama!” The still-perky Nicole laughs as I yawn.

“If you nod off during drama club I can always take over as Anna,” Harriet giggles as she pulls her skirt back on. “Why ARE you so tired, anyway?”

“Still getting stomach aches?” Suriya asks with clear concern in her voice.

“Yeah, sometimes,” I reply, suddenly desperate to change the subject. “Not that I don’t appreciate you girls changing with me, but don’t you, you know, miss the changing rooms?”

“No way!” Nicole laughs.

“…Maybe a little,” Harriet says. “I’d rather be with my friends, though!” I laugh with the three girls as we head out to break, where Priya, Megan and Ashley are already waiting for us with wide smiles on their faces. After another lesson- French, which I have difficulty concentrating through- I head to drama club with Nicole, Suriya, Harriet and Ashley.

“Hi everyone,” Mrs. Ingram says. “We’ve got a change of plans for today- as we’re a few months away from the production we need to measure you for costumes. I’m sure you can appreciate how much you’ve grown in the last twelve months, and you don’t want to get up on stage in costumes that don’t fit! Boys, you’ll go next door, girls, stay in here.” I stay sat on one of the chairs in the ‘girls’ room, only to suddenly become self-conscious as I feel several pairs of eyes turn in my direction.

“Umm, Mrs. Ingram?” I ask. “Which room-“

“ALL girls stay in this room,” Mrs. Ingram says with a warm smile. “You’re not going to be taking any clothes off, it’s just to split up the work easier. We’ll go alphabetically by surname, so Harriet, you first.” I take the opportunity to relax, as does Nicole- whose surname also begins with a W- and we (along with Suriya) run through our lines for the play, again performing our roles perfectly, even if we are sat around a desk rather than up on stage!

Toward the end of the lunch break, it’s my turn to be measured for the costume, and I have a smile on my face as Mrs. Ingram goes to work with her tape measure.

“Thanks for, you know, ‘keeping me with the girls’,” I say quietly.

“You ARE a girl, Laura,” Mrs. Ingram says. “The school thinks so, frankly I think it’s ridiculous that you’re not allowed to change with the other girls for PE, but then I don’t make the rules… Okay, you’ve lost a little off your waist, but otherwise your measurements haven’t changed that much.” Yeah, thanks for reminding me that I’m still little… I self-pityingly think to myself.

“You’ll love this year’s costumes,” Mrs. Ingram continues, “we’re really going all-out with the ‘fifties’ theme, so we’ve got poodle skirts, petticoats, the works… Your grandmother’s in her mid-seventies, isn’t she?”

“Um, yeah,” I say, already imagining what the costumes will look like.

“This’ll be the sort of thing that was fashionable when she was your age, then,” Mrs. Ingram says with a smile as I swap places with Nicole, the last girl to have her measurements taken. After my final lesson of the day, I head out to mum’s car to find Megan already waiting in the back seat. Despite it being PE and drama club today, I’d almost forgotten that it was Tuesday and therefore ‘Megan day’, so the surprise brings a genuine smile to my face as I get in the front seat of mum’s car.

“Hi Megan!” I say with a happy giggle.

“’Hi mum’,” mum laughs as we drive away. “Did you have a good day at school?”

“Yeah, tennis was exhausting, though,” I complain. “But I did find out what the costumes will be for the play!”

“Oh, cool!” Megan beams.

“Yeah, poodle skirts, fifties party dresses,” I say. “Kinda like those old photos of grandma when she was a teenager.”

“Oh, that’ll be so great!” Mum laughs. “She’ll love that… I take it you ARE getting us both tickets to see the play, right?”

“And me!” Megan giggles.

“Yes, yes, tickets for everyone!” I laugh, before stifling a large yawn.

“Tired?” Mum asks, smiling as I nod. “I’ll do you a big dinner when we get home, that should help.” That’s the LAST thing that’ll help… I think to myself as we head home, but sure enough, once we arrive home, mum makes a large meal of sausages and mashed potato that leaves my stomach in near-agony as I head upstairs to do homework with Megan. Before we start our work, I briefly excuse myself to use the toilet- and when I’m in there, I will my bloated feeling to rise into my throat, and- as silently as I can manage so as not to worry mum or Megan- I vomit up a large chunk of the meal I’ve just eaten. After wiping my mouth, I return to my bedroom to be greeted by a worried stare from my oldest friend.

“Laura… Are you okay?” Megan asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine, why d’you ask?” I reply as I sit cross-legged on my bed and pull an exercise book out of my bag.

“You’ve just seemed a little unwell lately,” Megan says. “You’re tired a lot, pale… You seem less healthy as well, skinnier…”

“Thanks!” I giggle.

“That wasn’t meant as a compliment,” Megan whispers. “Laura… I’m actually worried, I know the other girls are as well.”

“I’m FINE,” I laugh. “Want to know my ‘secret’? For the weight loss, I mean?”

“Go on,” Megan says in a cautious-sounding voice. I giggle as I hop off my bed and reach underneath, picking out my packet of laxative pills. Megan’s reaction, however, isn’t what I expect.

“Laura…” Megan whispers. “You- you shouldn’t be taking pills you haven’t been prescribed by a doctor!”

“Oh relax,” I laugh. “They’re just laxatives, they just help with my stomach, make sure I don’t retain so much weight, that’s all. They’re harmless.”

“Do you know that for certain?” Megan asks.

“I’ve read the warnings on the packet,” I say. “Do you want one?”

“No, I don’t want one!” Megan says, anger seeping into her voice. “Have you told your mum about these?”

“She doesn’t need to know,” I shrug. “If I have a headache, I take an aspirin, if I feel bloated, I take a laxative…”

“Does that psychiatrist you see know about them?” Megan asks.

“No,” I say, still confused by Megan’s unusual reaction.

“You should tell them,” Megan says firmly. “Your mum, too.”

“Whatever,” I snort. “Can we do some homework now, please?” Megan nods and gets out her exercise book, though the way she looks at me for the rest of the evening- and as her mother picks her up just after 8pm- leaves me feeling very uneasy. After Megan leaves, I make a point of re-reading the ‘warnings’ on the side of the laxative packet, before taking a pill anyway to relieve the bloated feeling that my throwing up didn’t QUITE get rid of.

“Have you and Megan had a falling out?” Mum asks as I go to get a glass of water from the kitchen.

“Umm, no,” I reply. “Just struggling a bit with some of the homework… Pretty tired, that’s all.” I briefly think about what Megan said about my laxatives- specifically, about telling mum- but ultimately I think better of it, and I climb into bed at 9:30pm with my bloating almost completely gone.

As always, I drag my tired body out of bed at 7:15am and- after a light breakfast- get washed, take my boy blocker and head into my bedroom to get dressed. I have a wide grin on my face as I reach under my bed and pull out one of my brand-new thongs, giggling as I slide it up my legs, followed by my thick grey tights and my pleated grey skirt. After pulling on the rest of my uniform, I gently fold my purple gymnastics leotard into my bag and head downstairs, where mum is already waiting in her car.

“You look happy this morning,” mum chuckles.

“It’s gymnastics club this lunchtime,” I say smugly. “And yes, that DOES mean that I’m wearing a you-know-what…”

“As long as it doesn’t get you in any trouble with the school,” mum sighs. I still have a smile on my face as I’m dropped off at the school gate- something my six friends can’t help but comment on.

“You look happy today,” Priya chuckles.

“Yep!” I giggle.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with our little ‘shopping trip’ last Saturday, would it?” Nicole asks with an evil grin on her own face.

“Maybe,” I reply with an equally evil grin of my own.

“Are you even allowed to wear thongs at school?” Priya asks.

“Whatever, it’s not like they can check your underwear,” Suriya laughs. “They were pushing it enough with those measurements yesterday…” I giggle with my friends as we head to form. The morning passes smoothly, and as lunch rolls around and I change into my leotard for gymnastics club, my smile has only widened. Before we head up to the gymnasium, however, Nicole, Suriya and I are intercepted by Mrs. Hall, the teacher who runs our gymnastics club.

“Girls, I’m glad I caught you,” Mrs. Hall says with a smile on her face. “Before you head up, Laura, I’ve spoken to the other schools in the local area and explained the situation regarding you being a member of the school’s gymnastics club… And they’ve all agreed that if you want, you can join the school team from Year 9 onwards.” My jaw drops and the three of us all gasps in shock as our teacher delivers the news.

“Oh. My. God!” I squeak. “Thank you so much, I’ll be the best gymnast ever, I promise!”

“Don’t thank me yet,” Mrs. Hall laughs. “You’ve got a lot of a hard work ahead of you- you two as well!” Nicole and Suriya both gasp as the teacher delivers the good news, and we giggle all the way up the stairs to the gymnasium, where we work our backsides off for the next 45 minutes, returning to our ‘private changing room’ with a fine sheen of sweat on our bodies (which causes me to shiver a little as I pull my tights back on over my sweaty legs). After the final lesson of the day, I climb into mum’s car still shaking with excitement.

“What’s got you so worked up?” Mum laughs. “Please don’t tell me it’s that thong…”

“Guess who’s going to be on the school’s gymnastics team next year?” I squeak, making mum gasp with shock.

“But I thought-“ mum stammers.

“Mrs. Hall had a word with all the other schools,” I explain. “They gave it the thumbs-up, and she’s wanted me on the school team ever since I joined the club, so that’s that! Nicole and Suriya are also going to be on the team.”

“That’d explain why you’ve worked up such a sweat!” mum laughs. “I’m guessing your leotard needs washing?”

“Please,” I giggle.

“And it’s about time the school is letting you join in,” mum says. “It’s ridiculous that you can play sports with the other girls in PE but not join in any of the teams or competitions, I mean, just looking at you, it’s obvious what you are, and that’s NOT a boy.” I smile as we head home, where I strip out of my uniform and gymnastics leotard and pull on the pink tights and blue leotard of my ballet uniform (though I obviously keep my thong in place). After a very light dinner, I hop back in my mum’s car, soon arriving at the dance studio that’s been like another home to me for the last eighteen months.

"Hey girlies!" I squeak as I approach my friends. "Take it you've all heard the good news?"

"About 'Laura, Nicole and Suriya: the super gymnasts'?" Priya giggles. "It's so cool, I'm so happy for you three!"

"It's not too late for you to join the club too," I say, before turning to Harriet and Megan. "Same goes for you two as well!"

"I'll pass, thanks," Megan says, staring at me with the same odd look on her face that she had yesterday.

"Ah, my 'Little Angels' are all here!" Miss Fullerton laughs, interrupting our conversation to usher us all into the studio, where we take our places at the barre and begin our warm-ups and stretches.

After half an hour of dancing, however, I suddenly start to feel a little... Off. Out of nowhere, my hands suddenly start shaking and my legs start trembling as I practise my pirouettes, and after finishing one series of pirouettes, I actually have to cling to the barre to hold myself up.

"Are you okay, Laura?" Priya asks after finishing her own pirouettes. "You look a little unwell... Want me to call Miss Fullerton over?"

"I- I'm fine," I whisper. I HAVE to be fine, if I can't handle a simple ballet lesson I'm not going to be able to handle a gymnastics competition, am I? And the more lessons I leave incomplete, the further away my pointe shoes are...

I take a deep breath and begin another series of pirouettes, though before I've completed the fourth, my head begins to spin and my legs start to seriously wobble. By the time I've started the sixth pirouette, my eyes fill with darkness and my legs buckle, their strength completely drained. I don't even feel the impact as I tumble to the floor- all I hear is the unmistakable sound of a body crumpling to the floor and the concerned cries of my friends and my dance teacher.

"Hello?" I call out in the pitch-black darkness. "Hello? Anybody?" I try to walk forward, but it's like my entire body is encased in treacle, and progress is slow, so very slow.

"Mum?" I call out in a panic. "Grandma? Ricky? ANYONE!?" I try to wade forward through the ooze but it sucks me down, covering my body and my head until I can feel myself suffocating...

I take several deep breaths as I open my eyes, the light of the unfamiliar room temporarily blinding me. I'm laid in an unfamiliar bed, wearing an unfamiliar nightdress, and I'm in a LOT of pain...

"Hello?" I weakly croak, my throat parched.

"Laura?" The tired-sounding voice of my mum calls. "Laura? Oh thank god, thank god!" I squirm a little as mum gives me a big hug, before her mood suddenly turns from one of relief to one of intense anger.

"You stupid girl!" Mum wails through a flood of tears. "You stupid, stupid girl!"

"Mum?" I ask, tears of my own trickling down my cheeks.

"How could you do this?" Mum cries. "Why didn't you speak to me?"

"Mum!?" I wail.

"The laxatives, Laura!" Mum wails. "How could you be so stupid?"

"I- I didn't want to be fat..." I blub, breaking down in floods of tears of my own as mum embraces me again.

"Then why didn't you TELL me?" Mum asks, her mood calming as a young-looking doctor approaches me from the other side of the ward.

"Ah, Miss White, welcome back to the land of the living!" The young- barely thirty year old- woman says to me.

"Where am I?" I ask.

"Charing Cross hospital," the doctor says bluntly. "You were taken here after you fainted during your dance class. You were severely dehydrated, so we've put you on a nutrient drip."

"No..." I weakly moan, reaching for the drip only for my mum to hold my wrist down, thwarting my attempt.

"Laura- can I call you Laura?" The doctor asks, smiling as I nod. "I'm Sian, Doctor Sian Hanley. Laura... From what your mother has told me, you've been illicitly taking laxatives, is this correct?" With my face filled with shame, I nod.

"How frequently, and for how long?" Dr Hanley asks.

"Tell the doctor, Laura," mum says sternly as I hesitate.

"Four or five times a week," I mumble. "Sometimes more. Since August last year, after my dad..."

"As if I didn't have enough reasons to hate that man," mum spits.

"Have you taken other steps to remove food from your body, such as vomiting after a large meal?" Dr Hanley asks.

"Maybe once or twice," I mumble, my shame increasing even as mum gives me a supportive hug.

"As I suspected," Dr Hanley says. "Laura, Mrs. White... I believe that you're suffering from an eating disorder, most likely bulimia nervosa."

"But can you make her better?" Mum asks.

"It won't be easy and it won't be quick," Dr Hanley says. "As it's a psychological condition it isn't something where we can simply prescribe a medication and it'll go away." No, there IS a medication you can prescribe, I angrily think to myself. It's called 'oestrogen'...

"I understand that Laura's already seeing a counsellor to help her through her gender transition, is that correct?" Dr Hanley asks.

"Yes, her name is Williamson," mum replies.

"Yep, I know Dr Williamson," Dr Hanley says. "With your permission, I'd like to call her to let her know what's happened, her office should open in a few minutes' time."

"Yes, of course," mum says. Wait- if her office is about to open...

"Wh-what time is it?" I ask, scanning the walls for a clock.

"8:50am," Dr Hanley says. "Your mum was here all night waiting for you to wake up."

"But- but school," I say, weakly trying to free myself from my bed.

"You're in no fit state for school!" Mum says, forcing me back down. "I called them half an hour ago to explain that you won't be in today or tomorrow. You need to focus on getting yourself better first."

"Your mum's right," Dr Hanley says. "Depending on how you respond to the nutrient IV, we may be able to discharge you tomorrow, but your body's been through a lot. Laxative abuse of the scale you described can have long-lasting consequences- sodium deficiency, potassium deficiency, even kidney or liver damage. We've drawn some blood from you and are awaiting the results. In the meantime, the most important thing is that you rest and get your strength back." I lay back in bed, knowing that I'm not going to win this argument, but I feel even more depressed than ever.

"But the play..." I weakly moan.

"Oh, are you an actress?" Dr Hanley asks with a smile on her face, which widens as I nod. "That's so cool, I did a little acting in school. What play are you doing?"

"It's one my boyfriend's drama teacher wrote for us," I say.

"Oh, and you have a boyfriend too?" Dr Hanley asks, giggling as I nod. "An actress, a ballerina and you have a boyfriend? For a 13 year old, it sounds like you've got quite a lot going for you..." I force a smile on my lips, though the more I think about it, the more I realise that the doctor is right- especially when I think about Ashley, having to suffer through secondary school as a boy. My eyes then go wide as I realise that when I collapsed, it was in front of Ashley, and all my other friends- all of whom must be worried sick...

"M- my friends..." I moan.

"Utterly terrified," mum admonishes me. "Megan actually insisted on coming with you to the hospital, that's when she told me about the laxatives..."

"I should call them," I say, looking around for a telephone.

"They'll all be at school by now!" Mum says, once again forcing me to lay back down. "I've got the day off work- and tomorrow- I'll call all their parents to let them know you're awake."

"Can you call Phil's parents too?" I meekly ask. "Or his sister. And Miss Fullerton. And grandma..."

"Your grandmother's already on her way here," mum says with an element of fear in her voice- a fear I understand all too well when the fearsome elderly woman arrives twenty minutes later and, like mum, gives me a hug, only to turn angry immediately afterwards.

"What do you think you're doing taking laxatives, young lady?" Grandma scowls. "You're not constipated, are you?"

"I- I just didn't want to be fat," I mumble, my cheeks again burning with shame.

"You'd have to eat a lot more than you do right now to get fat!" Grandma snorts. "And laxatives aren't going to make you skinny anyway!"

"Your grandmother's right," mum says. "All they do is dehydrate you, all the nutrients from your food have already passed into your body before the laxatives have the chance to do any work."

"So all this... For nothing?" I ask, aghast that all my time spent 'purging' my body was wasted.

"Basically, yeah," mum says, making tears flow from my eyes yet again.

"Everyone's entitled to make a mistake once in a while," grandma says, giving me a long, much-needed hug. "The important thing is that you learn from the mistakes and don’t. Repeat. Them!"

"I know," I moan. "It's just- all my friends, I look at them and I just wish I could be as beautiful, as, you know, 'mature' as them... Can't do that with a pot belly..."

"You WILL mature," grandma reassures me. "But your body can't mature until your brain does, and that won't happen whilst you're still obsessed with your weight!"

"But I don't know how to stop obsessing," I say.

"Dr Hanley is calling your counsellor, she'll help you work through this," mum says. "Laura... Any problem you have ANY at all, we're all here to help you through it. You don't need to suffer in silence and you CERTAINLY don't need to take matters into your own hands and hospitalise yourself!"

"...Thanks," I say with genuine gratitude. Grandma sticks around for the next hour, telling me stories about the childhood of both herself and my mother. She seemed especially excited to learn that my play was set in the 1950s- when she was my age- and didn't seem put off by the fact that my current 'situation' jeopardised my place in the cast, insisting that I WILL be well enough to play the role by summer.

After grandma leaves, and mum briefly leaves to check on a few things at home and make the phone calls I requested, I have my curtains pulled shut before laying back in bed to try to get some more sleep. When I wake up three hours later, mum is back at my bedside, and Dr Hanley is quickly called back over.

"I've got the results of your tests," Dr Hanley says with a stoic face. "It's not ALL bad news... There does appear to be some reduced kidney function and a slight sodium and potassium deficiency, but this can all be reversed with the right diet and by getting plenty of fluids."

"When can I get out of here?" I ask, prompting a sigh from my mum and a laugh from Dr Hanley.

"I want to keep you in one more night," Dr Hanley says. "Mainly for observation, and to make sure you're getting enough fluids."

"...Am I going to have to eat?" I whisper.

"As long as you feel up to it, but I would recommend it," Dr Hanley says.

"You should eat something," mum insists. "You haven't eaten anything since last night's dinner, and even that wasn't big..."

"...It would be nice," I say, making my mother and the doctor both smile.

"I'm also going to recommend that you stay off school at least until next Thursday," Dr Hanley says, making my heart sink.

"But then I'll miss rehearsals..." I moan. "And gymnastics club..."

"Your body's been through a lot, Laura," Dr Hanley says. "The laxatives weakened you considerably, and things like gymnastics and dancing will just put too much strain on it. You NEED to recover, to get stronger again."

"...But I'll get fat if I don't exercise," I whine in a feeble voice.

"Then do light exercise," the doctor advises. "Go for a walk, a swim... You ARE currently underweight for someone your height and weight. Gaining a kilogram or two won't hurt you, quite the opposite in fact." I sigh and nod my head, and when my dinner is brought to me later, I finish every bite of it, despite the stomach cramping it later causes as I try to get to sleep.

Finally, on Friday morning, after a breakfast of corn flakes (which I again eat every bite of), I'm discharged from hospital, wearing a long-sleeved grey dress and thick black tights and hoping that I never set foot in that place ever again. I still feel unsteady on my legs, having spent over 36 hours in bed, but it does feel good to be in proper clothes again and to wear make-up, even if it just a little mascara. After a light- but filling- lunch, mum takes me to Dr Williamson's office for my scheduled appointment- though obviously today's appointment is going to be very different than usual.

"Hello Laura, Mrs. White," Dr Williamson says with genuine concern in her voice. "Please take a seat..."

"Thank you," mum says, whilst I keep my head lowered in shame.

"Obviously the hospital has shared details or your diagnosis with me," Dr Williamson explains. "Laura... You need to know that in these sessions you can discuss ANYTHING with me, even if it's not related to issues concerning your gender identity. If you were having problems with your body image, then you needed to tell me about this. I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on."

"I understand," I whisper.

"When did you start feeling the way you did about your weight?" Dr Williamson asks me.

"Shortly after my dad..." I say, trailing off as my mouth is physically unable to form the word 'kidnap'. "I thought that if maybe I DIDN'T grow to be big and strong, if I could stay, umm, 'petite', it'd help me be a girl... Because I'm not getting oestrogen..."

"Oestrogen is the last thing you need right now," Dr Williamson says. "I know you think it will help, but trust me when I say it'd only make matters worse. It's a treatment designed to effectively rewrite your brain chemistry, and that's completely out of the question whilst you're still unsettled like this. But I can help you get better."

"Better to the point where I'll be able to have oestrogen?" I ask.

"Maybe," Dr Williamson says with a smile. "And that may be within months. But it'll be hard work, Laura. I can't do this by myself, you need to work with me to get to a place where you're happy with yourself, where you're mentally ready for oestrogen."

"...And if I can't?" I ask.

"You CAN," mum urges, supportively squeezing my hand.

"If you set yourself a target and work to it, it can act as something you can focus on, a goal you can work towards," Dr Williamson advises.

"Like my birthday in November?" I ask.

"It's ambitious, but okay," Dr Williamson says. "You also need to make sure that you don't miss any further appointments, not a single one, no matter the reason."

"I'll make sure she attends," mum says.

"I want to help you get better, Laura," Dr Williamson explains. "I want to be able to prescribe you the oestrogen you so badly want... But I want you to be ready when I do so. Together, I'm sure we can make it." I force a smile on my face as my counsellor further explains my treatment plan, the steps I'll need to take, such as writing down all my anxieties, keeping a log of everything I eat to make sure I'm getting the right nutrients, and a whole load of other homework I'll need to do over the coming few months. I feel overwhelmed as I leave the office an hour later- but I leave with the knowledge that I have taken the first step toward recovery, and more importantly, the first step toward oestrogen.

I arrive home just after 3:30pm exhausted and hoping for a quiet night. When I open my front door, however, I'm greeted by an unexpected- but welcome surprise.

"Welcome home!" Nicole, Megan, Priya, Suriya, Harriet and Ashley all yell simultaneously, whilst holding a banner that reads 'Welcome Home Laura'. I'm immediately swamped in a group hug that only ends when my mum breaks it up, and I spend the next three hours gossiping about school, dance and the play. My part in the play is still up in the air- especially as I won't be able to go to rehearsals on Monday or drama club on Tuesday- but even if I do lose the role, at least that'll mean that Harriet will get the chance to act in my place- and there'll always be Romeo & Juliet next year. My place on the gymnastics team, however, is on shakier ground- especially considering that it was gymnastics club on Wednesday that contributed to my collapse.

My friends gradually depart after a light dinner, with Megan being the last to leave just after 7pm. As she goes to leave, I give her a long hug that leaves the bespectacled girl confused.

"Um, what's this for?" Megan asks.

"For ratting me out about the laxatives," I laugh. "Thank you... Guess I needed a kick up the arse, heh."

"Well, any time you need one of those," Megan laughs.

"You are my absolute bestest friend," I say, giving Megan another hug, before she wriggles free, leaving the house with a massive smile on her face.

"I wish I had friends like yours when I was thirteen," mum laughs as I plop myself down the sofa, my strength still at an all-time low.

"I know, I'm so lucky..." I sigh, before my mind turns to one special friend who WASN'T here this afternoon. "Mum... You DID call Phil’s parents, didn't you?"

"I did," mum reassures me. "We definitely didn't get a message from him though. Hang on, I'll check my voicemail..." Mum listens to the phone for a few minutes, before looking at me with a quizzical look on her face. "We did get a message, but it's not from Phil, it's from your dance teacher, and she wants you to call her..."

"Umm, okay, probably to see if I'm okay," I say as mum hands me the phone and I hit redial.

"Hello?" The familiar voice of Miss Fullerton comes down the phone.

"Miss Fullerton?" I ask, prompting a relieved laugh from my dance teacher.

"Laura, thank god!" The young woman sighs. "You scared the SHIT out of me on Wednesday night... Are you feeling better now? Are you home?"

"Yeah, I got home this afternoon," I say. "I'm sorry I caused such a fuss..."

"Believe me, it's no fuss," Miss Fullerton says. "When I was your age I was in and out of hospital with my asthma and my allergies... I HAD called hoping to pass on a phone number for you to call, but as luck would have it, the person who REALLY wants to talk to you is stood right next to me now..." The phone briefly goes quiet, before a different woman's voice starts speaking.

"Hello?" The young-sounding woman asks. "Is that Laura?"

"Yes," I say cautiously.

"Hi, I don't know if you remember me, but we've been communicating by email over the last few months," the woman says. "I'm Nikki, Nikki Thomas." My eyes go wide as I realise precisely who I'm talking to- the girl who is my favourite columnist from my favourite teen magazine, and who, like me, was born into the wrong gender at birth.

"Oh my god!" I squeak. "I'm such a huge fan of yours! Thank you so much for calling!"

"Krystie- sorry, 'Miss Fullerton'- tells me you've been in hospital- is everything okay now?" Nikki asks.

"I'm getting better," I say. "I LOVED your last column about your baby sister..."

"Thanks!" Nikki says with an uneasy laugh. "I'm just calling to make sure you're okay... In your emails you said you've been frustrated because you've not yet been prescribed oestrogen."

"Yeah," I sigh. "It's such a pain... All my friends have started puberty, and I haven't... I feel like a freak."

"Believe me, I know how you feel," Nikki says softly. "I didn't even start anti-androgens until I was sixteen... Some nights I'd actually cry myself to sleep, I was that desperate to become a girl. And do you know what happened then?"

"What happened?" I ask.

"I became a girl," Nikki laughs. "And you will too. I know it feels like you'll always be stuck in limbo, but trust me when I say good things do come to people who are willing to wait for them. You're thirteen now, right?"

"Yeah," I reply.

"I'm willing to bet the five years from now, you'll be a beautiful, girly megastar," Nikki says. "I've got to head off now- me and a few of the girls are off on a night out, which yes, you'll be welcome to come on in five years' time, assuming you're not too rich and famous for us by then! But any time you need help or you're feeling down, just give me a call."

"Oh- really, you don't have to give me your number," I say, shaking at the prospect of my idol treating me as though I were another of her friends.

"I want to," Nikki says. "I was lucky in that I had a friend, a 'mentor' who helped me with my transition... I want to do the same for you. What you've been through over the last twelve months really sucks, and if there's anything I can do to help make things better, anything at all, you just call, okay?"

"Okay!" I say, my face covered in the widest smile I've had in months.

"Talk soon, Laura!" Nikki beams as she clicks off the phone. I lay back on the sofa, still exhausted but also exhilarated. In hiding my problems, my anxieties, I ended up literally hurting myself. from what Dr Hanley said, I'm lucky I didn't caused any permanent damage to my organs with my laxatives, and it could all have been avoided if I'd just sought out the help of the people who love me. And they DO love me and care about me... Even people who have never even met me, like Nikki, or people who I only know in a 'professional' capacity, like Miss Fullerton, Dr Williamson or my teachers.

I head up to bed at 9pm, but before getting into bed, I reach under my bed, looking for my laxative pills. Unsurprisingly, they're all gone, but I have one secret stash in the back of my wardrobe, and when I check on them, they're still all there. After taking a deep breath, I head into the bathroom, where I carefully punch each tablet out of its packaging... And flush them all down the toilet. I don't need tablets to make myself feel better, I only need people.

I have all the things I need in my life to be happy... I only wish I'd realised this sooner. But like grandma said, as long as I learn from my mistake and don't repeat it. That's what important. And this is a mistake I am NEVER making again.