“I hope you’ve all enjoyed your first term,” Mrs. Houghton announces to the whole of the year as the bell rings, signifying not only the end of the school day, but the end of school entirely for the next two and a half weeks. “I hope you all have a happy Christmas, and I look forward to seeing you back here in January, refreshed and raring to go for another term!” With the assembly ‘dismissed’, we all file out of the hall in neat columns, though once we reach the car park outside the school, we become a lot LESS orderly!

“It’s Christmas!” Nicole squeaks happily, giving every member of our ‘gang’ (including Priya, who was waiting outside for us) a big hug before getting in her mum’s car.

“What time are you coming round tomorrow?” Suriya asks me as she and her sister get in their mother’s car.

“When I can,” I say. “Hopefully early…”

“This will be your first Christmas as Laura, won’t it?” Priya asks, to which I nod happily.

“I really can’t wait,” I breathe excitedly. “This is gonna be the best Christmas ever!” Priya and Suriya both giggle as their mother drives them away, leaving me alone with Megan in the car park.

“You know, ‘Laura’ really is a lot more fun than ‘Leon’, no offence,” Megan says.

“No offence taken,” I reply. “I definitely agree with you!”

“Any idea what you’re getting for Christmas?” Megan asks.

“Skirts, dresses, make-up, ballet stuff… All the things I wanted to get last year!” I squeak.

“And all the things you got for your BIRTHDAY last month!” Megan giggles, giving me a quick hug as my mum impatiently honks her car horn.

“I’ll see you tomorrow at Priya’s okay?” Megan says as I get in mum’s car, smoothing my skirt underneath me in a motion that’s quickly become second nature. I nod at the grinning girl as mum drives us home, her grin easily as wide as mine or any of my friends’.

“First term completed!” Mum says happily. “And now you’ve got a whole two weeks off- any idea what you want to do over that time? Apart from homework, of course.”

“Mum!” I chastise, before giggling uncontrollably. “Though even homework seems okay when I’m wearing this uniform…”

“When I was your age, I’d have given anything to be able to stop wearing a school uniform,” mum muses. “I am SO proud of you, Laura. And not just because of actually wanting to wear your uniform! You actually seem to have enjoyed school this year, last year you dreaded going in most days…”

“It’s not been ALL good,” I say, remembering my ‘assault’ from earlier in the year, and the constant tormenting I’ve received from Harriet and a few others. “But there’s been a lot more good times than there’s been bad. Last year… I don’t even want to remember last year.”

“Then don’t,” mum says happily as we drive into the dark afternoon. When we arrive home, I smile when I see a familiar car parked in the street outside, and when I open the front door, I’m immediately greeted by a hug from my grandmother.

“Hello, schoolgirl!” Grandma says. “Don’t you look pretty in your uniform!”

“I look just like any other schoolgirl,” I say. “Which is what I always wanted!” Grandma chuckles as we three women sit down and start talking about the upcoming festive season. I don’t change out of my uniform until after grandma leaves after 8pm, though even after I exchange my blouse and pleated skirt for a black denim skirt and a cute pink sweater, I still keep my grey tights on, wanting to relish the feeling of being a schoolgirl just a little longer. Even after I’ve changed into my nightdress, I’m reluctant to slide into bed as the longer I’m awake, the more like a girl I feel. One of my favourite things to do is look around my bedroom, staring at the ‘haven of femininity’ that it’s become over the last few months.

Gone are my blue walls and posters of footballers and racing cars, to be replaced by a light yellow paint and pictures of ballerinas, singers and beautiful things. A dressing table takes pride of place in my room, with a mirror in which I regularly experiment with the cosmetics and nail polishes that litter the top of the table. Even the little things, like my toothbrush, has been changed to one in a soft pink colour. Any stranger looking into the house would not be able to tell that I had ever been a boy.

As I eventually snuggle under the warm sheets, I too try my hardest to forget that I was ever anything other than 100% female. Ever since that first, fleeting moment after ballet last month, I’ve had more and more moments where I’ve actually been able to forget, to pretend that my life as a boy was a bad dream, a dream I’ve now woken up from. When I wake up for real on Saturday morning, I look around the room, almost as if to make sure that my ‘haven’ is still intact, and when I see that it is, I snuggle back under my sheets, a happy and contented GIRL.

I only stay in my warm bed for a few more minutes before getting up at my mum’s yelled prompting. After a quick wash, I swallow my special anti-androgen pill (or my ‘boy blocker’ as Nicole calls it) and head downstairs, where mum is still smiling as happily as she was when I went to bed last night.

“Good morning, precious!” Mum says, placing a bowl of cereal in front of me. “What time do you want to go round to the Mailks’?”

“As early as possible!” I giggle happily, also making mum giggle. “We’re going to be doing each other’s nails, is that alright?”

“Of course it is!” Mum laughs. “A twelve year old girl wearing nail polish during the holidays? Of course, it didn’t happen in my day, but this IS 2013, so you do whatever you want, Laura!”

“Can I get my nose pierced too?” I cheekily ask, earning a playful shove from my mum!

“Don’t push it, missy!” Mum teases as we both giggle happily. After breakfast, I change into the same skirt and jumper I wore last night, only with a pair of opaque black tights instead of my grey school tights. After pulling on my favourite pair of flats, I pause before leaving my bedroom, ultimately choosing instead to take a seat at my dressing table, where I spread out my cosmetics in front of me. Giggling happily, I take out my mascara and enhance my eyelashes, before outlining my eyes with the dark make-up pencil I got the previous month, and applying a coat of faint red lipstick to my mouth. Once I’m happy with my grown-up- but still very cute- look, I head downstairs, where mum immediately rolls her eyes upon seeing my face.

“That’s too much make-up!” Mum complains as I put on my coat.

“If you didn’t want me to wear it, you shouldn’t have bought me it!” I retort, making mum roll her eyes again.

“Can you stop being a teenager before you’ve turned thirteen, please?” Mum sighs as we get in her car.

“Mum! You can’t stop me from growing up!” I pout.

“I can TRY,” mum says as we drive away. A short while later we arrive at the Maliks’ house, which- much to my surprise- is bedecked with Christmas decorations, including snowman, Santas and a HUGE Christmas tree in the living room window. Once I step through the front door, I’m immediately greeted by big hugs from Priya and Suriya, who are both wearing big, thick Christmas jumpers with reindeers on the front, floaty knee-length skirts and- in Suriya’s case- thick snowman-patterned tights.

“Hi Laura!” Priya- whose legs are covered in plain black tights- squeaks excitedly.

“Hi Priya! Hi Suriya!” I also squeak. “I LOVE your tights!”

“Thanks!” Suriya giggles excitedly. “The one GOOD thing about being short for my age, I get to wear all the cute clothing my lanky sister’s grown out of!” Suriya and I only giggle further as Priya- who at 5’ 1”, towers over both myself and her sister- rolls her eyes and leads us both into the kitchen, where several bottles of nail polish in all different colours are laid out in wait for us and the other two girls who will soon arrive.

“Come on, fingers forward!” Priya orders, picking up a bottle of dark blue polish.

“That’s a bit… ‘Obvious’, isn’t it?” I ask, referring to the colour of the polish.

“Are you not ‘obviously’ a girl?” Suriya asks as her sister begins coating my fingernails with the dark liquid.

“Touché,” I giggle. “I LOVE your decorations!”

“Thanks!” Priya says. “Dad always makes a fuss when it comes to Christmas…”

“And when it comes to Christmas presents too!” Suriya says.

“I just thought that because you celebrated Diwali, that you wouldn’t celebrate Christmas…” I say, my voice trailing off as the Asian girls start giggling at me.

“Are you a Christian?” Priya asks me. “Do you go to church?” When I shake my head, the two sisters only giggle harder.

“Just because we’re Hindu, doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate Christmas!” Suriya giggles. “I mean, YOU were going to celebrate Diwali with us, and you’re not Hindu…”

“That’s true, I guess,” I giggle, inspecting my new nails. “So pretty…”

“Me next!” Suriya excitedly yells, all but shoving me out of the chair and holding her fingers out for her sister and I to paint in a glossy black colour. We later apply the same colour to Priya’s fingernails, and when Nicole and Megan arrive, they get the same dark blue colour as me. Nicole also provides nail stencils for us to play with, meaning that when we leave the kitchen after our nails have dried, I have cute white snowmen on my middle fingernails, Megan has emerald green Christmas trees and Nicole, Priya and Suriya all have tiny golden stars.

“Oh god,” Mohan, Priya & Suriya’s elder brother, moans when he sees us five pre-teen (or in Priya’s case, teen) girls ‘invade’ the living room where he’s sat playing on his Xbox. “I’m outta here…”

“BOY!” Priya and Suriya yell after their brother as he leaves the room.

“Unusual insult!” Megan giggles as we take over the two large sofas in the vast living room.

“Something we heard the Angels say once,” Suriya says. “Can you believe we’re being taught ballet by a celebrity!?”

“Just a shame they can’t record any of OUR lessons,” Nicole sighs. “I take it we’re all watching the first episode on next Saturday?”

“Of course,” I giggle. “Though you are NOT nicknaming me ‘Jamie jnr’!”

“Nah, it’s more like SHE should be ‘Laura snr’!” Nicole laughs, giving me a quick hug.

“I wish ballet didn’t have to close over Christmas,” Megan sighs. “I’m so glad you got me into the class, there’s apparently a HUGE waiting list now.”

“Well if we can’t dance at the studio, we’ll have to have our own class!” Priya announces.

“I, um, don’t have my leotard with me,” I complain as Priya and her sister drag myself, Megan and Nicole into an empty area of the large living room.

“I’ve got a few I’ve grown out of,” Priya says.

“That I haven’t grown INTO yet,” Suriya complains, making her elder sister giggle.

“Are you sure?” I ask as Priya disappears upstairs to her room.

“I let you borrow my sari, didn’t I?” Suriya giggles as she rearranges the furniture to give us more room to dance. “Okay, a leotard’s a bit… ‘Closer’, but you’re all wearing tights, it’ll be fine.”

“Alright then!” Nicole cheers. Less than ten minutes later, the five of us have changed into multi-coloured leotards and are stood with our arms outstretched like proper ballerinas, following Priya’s instruction as we dance the steps that have become second nature to us over the past few months. When Priya orders us to change out of our leotards half an hour later, I find myself wishing that I could stay as a ballerina just a few minutes longer, just so I can soak up more of the beauty and femininity of being a dancer just like my friends.

“I can’t wait to join dance club next year!” Nicole squeaks happily as we crash back down on the sofas, our skirts once again hanging from our waists.

“It’s a bit advanced,” Priya complains. “All the girls there can dance en pointe apart from me… I think that’s why they only let you join from year 8 onwards. I actually left after a couple of weeks.”

“Oh no, that’s so bad,” Nicole sighs. “You’ll just have to see if you can join drama club with us!”

“Yeah!” Suriya and I cheer simultaneously.

“I’m not really an actress!” Priya giggles.

“Nor are we,” Nicole laughs, pointing at the three of us in succession. “Doesn’t mean we don’t have fun, AND they’re holding auditions for a play soon…”

“…That we need to rehearse for in front of an audience…” Suriya says, making us three ‘actresses’ giggle excitedly.

“Show us! Show us!” Megan urges.

“Nah, we need proper costumes first…” Suriya says.

“AND proper stage make-up…” I giggle excitedly as Megan and Priya smile knowingly at each other.

Within minutes, Nicole, Suriya and I are dressed in long, flowing dresses, our faces covered in thick make-up and wide grins.

“Miss Patrick,” Nicole says in an overly dramatic voice, “what time shall Mr. Henry be arriving?”

“Within the hour,” I reply in an equally dramatic tone. “Shall he be bringing his younger brother? I do hope so, he makes my heart flutter so…” I break down in a fit of giggles before completing the sentence, making Nicole and Suriya playfully moan and tease me.

“We haven’t decided yet who’s going for which role,” Nicole giggles as the three of us sit down next to Priya and Megan, still wearing our fancy dresses and make-up.

“Aww, it looks like so much fun!” Megan says.

“It IS,” I say. “Well, when Harriet’s not there, anyway…”

“Ugh, can’t believe she’s STILL having a go at you,” Priya spits. “I mean, it’s like the entire school apart from her has got used to you- well, you know…”

“It’s okay, I don’t mind you saying it…” I sigh.

“You know, I still sometimes forget,” Suriya says, bringing a smile to my red lips.

“So do I!” I giggle. “Not as often as I’d like, though…”

“Well then,” Priya says, “we’re all going to have to be as girly as possible to help you forget!”

“Yeah!” The other girls all cheer.

“Well we can’t be expected to do ALL the work,” Nicole says accusingly, looking in my direction. “YOU’RE going to have to be SUPER-DUPER girly!” I giggle excitedly as Suriya suddenly gasps.

“We’ve still got all our nail polish,” Suriya announces. “We’ll have to do your toenails as well!” I start to squeak as Priya orders me back into the kitchen, where I remove my tights and lift my dress, allowing the sisters to coat each of my toenails in a dark red polish.

When my mum picks me up just after 5:30, all she can do is laugh and shake her head at my look. Even though I’ve changed back into my tights and my black denim skirt, my face is still covered in the thick stage make-up I’d worn all day and my short hair has been styled to be more feminine than it has ever been, and even has a few cute hair clips in it. For the first time since I started being Laura, I feel- and look- 100% externally female.

“Come on, princess,” mum laughs as I sit down in her car, straightening my skirt and my tights before fastening my seatbelt. “When I said you were wearing too much make-up, that wasn’t your cue to put on even more…”

“I was rehearsing for my play,” I shrug. “It made me feel more ‘in character’.”

“…And?” Mum asks.

“…And it makes me feel more girly,” I confess. “Those moments I get, when I forget that I was ever a boy? They’ve been happening more and more. I want… I want that feeling to be permanent.”

“And it WILL be,” mum says. “I promise you, Laura, six years from now, when you’re eighteen and you’re an adult… You’ll be a woman, and as far as I’m concerned, that’s all you’ll ever have been.” I giggle happily as we drive into the cold December night. When we get home, I immediately park myself on the sofa, ready to watch the Strictly Come Dancing grand final. I can’t help but coo and sigh at all the beautiful dresses being worn by the finalists. This time last year, when I watched Charlotte Hutchinson and Kimberley Walsh in the final, I could only dream about wearing such beautiful dresses and being whisked around the dancefloor by a handsome man. Today, I’m still dreaming, but less than 24 hours ago I was wearing a beautiful dress and dancing as elegantly as any ‘real’ girl. Okay, admittedly it wasn’t at the same time, but what was a fantasy last year is now infinitely closer to becoming a reality.

Even as I go to bed, my face scrubbed clean of all my beautiful make-up and my hair ‘freed’ from all the clips and hairpins, I still feel as girly as I did when I was dancing and playing with my friends earlier in the day. I stay awake for ages after climbing under my sheets just staring at my fingernails, at the cute snowmen on my middle fingers and the beautiful blue colour that seems to glow in the darkness.

When I get up the following morning, I spend several happy seconds staring at my red toenails before getting washed and dressing in a pair of glittery black tights, a pink jumper and a cute and VERY feminine grey pleated denim skirt. Even though all I’m doing today is homework, I still have a smile on my face as I write in my exercise books due to the sight of the blue fingernails gripping my pen, the feel of the soft fabric encasing my legs and the shiny clips in my hair.

I’m that immersed in my work that I barely notice the time pass, and when mum calls me down for lunch, I’m amazed to find that it’s almost 1pm and I’ve finished almost three quarters of the homework I’ve been set for the holiday period.

“Working hard?” Mum asks as I elegantly sit down at the kitchen table.

“Yeah,” I say. “I actually enjoy homework more now that I’m a girl, heh. It’s like everything in the world is just so much better.”

“Good,” mum says. “Hopefully I’ll see that reflected in your grades!” I smile sarcastically as I eat- at primary school, I was never one of the high achievers. I’d just do the bare minimum required and spend the rest of my time daydreaming- and it should be obvious that I was daydreaming about life as a girl. Now that that dream has become reality, my mind’s more focussed, able to take in concepts quicker and produce work of a higher quality. I’m frequently complimented by my teachers on the quality of my work in all subjects, especially in English.

After eating lunch, I head upstairs to finish off my homework, but I barely get five minutes done when a knock comes from the front door. We’re not due any visitors today- grandma’s coming tomorrow rather than today- so I nervously creep to the top of the stairs to watch as mum opens the door- and the figure on the doorstep causes me to almost faint with shock.

“R-Robert?” Mum gasps.

“…Dad?” I whisper, stunned by the sight of the man I haven’t seen in nine years.

“Hello Michelle,” dad says. “Merry Christmas! Is that little boy of mine here?”

“What are you doing here?” Mum asks, her voice a mixture of confusion and anger.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Dad says. “I’m here to see Leon, give him his Christmas presents!”

“He’s not here,” mum says hastily, clearly terrified about what the man’s reaction would be if he ever sees ‘Laura’.

“Well then I’ll come back tomorrow,” dad says. “I’m staying with my sister and her kids over Christmas, it’d be great if Leon could catch up with his cousins one day over the holidays! He started secondary school in September, didn’t he?”

“Yes,” mum says.

“So… Can I come in, catch up with YOU for a bit before Leon comes back?” Dad says. When mum stumbles over her words, it becomes immediately clear that dad isn’t going to take no for an answer- and I AM going to have to confront him sooner or later. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, slowly descending the stairs and shaking with fear as dad’s eyes go wide when he sees me in all my feminine glory.

“Le-Leon?” Dad whispers, in a state of shock.

“Laura,” I say, my shaking only getting harder as dad’s face screws up in a scowl of pure rage.

“What the FUCK have you done to him!?” Dad bellow in my mum’s face, who cowers in fear. “I go away and you turn MY son into a fucking queer!? You hate me that much that when you can’t get back at me you punish MY son instead!?”

“I am a girl!” I say defiantly, tears forming in my eyes as dad turns his anger in my direction.

“Don’t be stupid, you pathetic little shit!” Dad yells, making me feel sick. “You’re a boy! Now go upstairs and take that woman’s shit off! NOW!”

“You do not come into my house and yell at my daughter like that!” Mum says, standing up to dad in a way I didn’t think she was capable of.

“You shut your fucking mouth!” Dad yells in my mum’s face. “You’re not fit to be a mother you filthy little cunt, you never were! I knew I should’ve taken Leon instead of you! I suppose Ricky’s become a rent boy too, hmm?”

“Don’t you dare speak to me like that,” mum says with a quivering voice. “I don’t know why I ever married you in the first place!” Tears stream down my face as the two people who gave me life bellow at each other in a way I haven’t heard in almost nine years.

“You get upstairs, and get changed, you’re coming with me,” dad orders me. I meekly start to obey, before stopping dead on the stairs.

“No,” I say defiantly, making dad’s face actually turn red with anger.

“NOW!” He bellows, barging past mum to yell directly in my face.

“GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE!” Mum yells, shaking with fear as dad turns his anger on her. Disregarding her, dad grabs my wrist and starts to forcibly drag me down the stairs. I grab the banister for support, but obviously my father is a lot stronger than me, and I can feel my grip starting to loosen when mum reaches into her bag for her phone.

“Police, please,” mum says, looking straight at dad, who immediately releases me. “My ex-husband has barged into my home and is trying to abduct my daughter.”

“HANG THAT PHONE UP!” Dad yells.

“Yes, that’s him you can hear,” mum says, her voice filled with raw emotion. “No, I’m not in a safe place, he can see AND hear me.” Sensing that he’s in a LOT of trouble, dad immediately releases me and runs out of the house without saying another word, slamming the door behind him. I slowly head downstairs and give mum a long hug.

“Yes, he’s gone now,” mum whispers into the phone, her eyes filling with tears. “Yes, if you could send an officer round I’d be grateful… I think I need a restraining order.” With her legs barely able to support her weight, mum returns to the living room, where she and I collapse on the sofa, still hugging each other. A short while later, two police officers arrive, and I’m sent to my room whilst they talk to mum, but I don’t return to my homework as I’m completely incapable of concentrating following the confrontation.

I don’t have that many memories of dad- what little I know I was told by mum, grandma or Ricky- but from what I understand, he was not a nice man in the slightest. Whilst mum’s never told me that he ever laid a hand on her, I do know that arguments and language like the one I witnessed today were commonplace during their marriage. When mum calls me down after the police have left, I immediately go over and give her a long hug, and once again I am a confused four year old boy clinging to his mother for support, only this time, I’m not wondering where my dad is- I’m praying that he never returns.

“What did the police say?” I ask.

“I’m to call them if he ever returns,” mum says. “Laura, I PROMISE you I’ll never let him take you away from me, or force you to stop living as a girl.”

“Legally… Can he?” I ask.

“No,” mum says. “We’ve got your ‘diagnosis’ in writing, that’s a legal document, he can’t argue against it, just as Ricky couldn’t.” I nod and force a smile onto my face, but I’m far from convinced, and later as I go to bed, I’m still anxious about the day’s events.

I smile as I greet my four school friends at the school gate, relishing the feeling of my skirt blowing around my tights-covered legs. As I go to follow my friends, however, a strong arm grabs me and drags me backwards. I call out to my friends, but they don’t hear me and keeping walking away, out of my life forever.

“Come on!” Dad yells as he drags me backwards, out of my skirt and my tights and into a pair of boy’s school trousers.

“Come on!” Dad repeats. “NOW!”

I awake with a scream and immediately start crying from fear and frustration. When I get up the following morning, after washing and taking my ‘boy-blocker’, I dress as femininely as possible, pulling on black tights that are covered in bright pink hearts, my blue ballet leotard and a knee-length pink dress. I also apply make-up, even though I’m not going out- just a little eyeliner, mascara and lipstick. I even spray on a tiny amount of perfume before skipping downstairs and sitting at the breakfast table, where mum can’t help but comment on my ‘overt femininity’.

“Need to feel extra girly today, huh?” Mum asks, and I nod in response. “Just don’t let your grandma see with you with THAT much make-up on!” I giggle as I eat my breakfast- right now, I feel ‘secure’ under my external layers of femininity, like I’m wrapped in a comfortable, snuggly security blanket, a blanket I don’t want to unwrap myself from for anyone.

I while away the morning watching TV and begin to forget my troubles when a knock comes from our front door. I feel a little guilty as I go to answer the door- I didn’t wash off any of my make-up as mum had advised- but when I answer the door, it’s not my grandmother standing there, but my father.

“Come with me, now,” dad whispers, the anger creeping back into his voice as he sees my clothes and make-up. I shake my head, but my panic only increases when I see my brother step out dad’s car and stand next to the older man.

“Mum!” I yell, barely restraining the terror in my voice. “Mum!!!”

“Stop shouting!” Dad growls. “Just get in the car. Now!”

“No!” I say, trying to slam the door in the men’s faces but failing when dad jams his foot in the door, barging his way into the house. “Mum!” I run into the living room, breathing a sigh of relief as I stand next to my mother opposite the two uninvited men.

“Robert!” Mum exclaims. “Ricky? What are you doing here?”

“Dad called and said there was something wrong with Leon and that I needed to come home immediately,” Ricky explains.

“I’m here to reunite MY family,” dad says angrily. “To take both MY sons home!”

“No!” Mum shouts, wrapping a protective arm around me. “Laura is my daughter, and she’s staying with me!”

“You have turned him into a fucking faggot AGAINST HIS WILL and you WILL give him to me!” Dad demands. I can’t help but feel sick as dad insults me in such a vile manner, though a ray of hope enters me as I see Ricky is equally uncomfortable with his father’s choice of language.

“This is NOT against her will!” Mum shouts. “We have documentation, doctor’s notes, prescriptions, Laura IS, legally and medically, a girl trapped in a boy’s body. Ricky, tell him!”

“What!?” Dad yells in Ricky’s face. “You mean to tell me you know about this- this- this THING!?”

“Yeah, yeah I did,” Ricky says matter-of-factly.

“And you didn’t think to TELL ME!?” Dad yells.

“What’s it got to do with you?” Ricky laughs, unfazed by the older man’s rage. “You walked out eight years ago, you’ve got no right to call yourself a father to me OR to Leon.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here!?” Dad yells.

“You said there was something wrong with Leon,” Ricky says. “I’m still his brother, I still care about him regardless of what he’s wearing or calling himself.”

“You are a pathetic excuse for a son AND a brother!” Dad yells at Ricky, who simply rolls his eyes at the older man. “Don’t you dare roll your eyes at me, you fucking faggot-lover!” My jaw drops in shock as, in one fluid motion, Ricky draws his fist back and punches our father square in the middle of the face, all without changing his facial expression. Dad slumps against the wall, stunned but not knocked-out.

“And you,” Ricky says, “are a pathetic excuse for a father AND a human being. You deserved that punch.”

“You little shit!” Dad yells, clutching his bloodied nose. “I’ll see you behind bars for this!”

“Ricky was defending his little sister from you,” mum says smugly. “And given that the police have already been around here one because you tried abducting her, who do you suppose they’ll believe? Come near me OR my family again and I’ll slap you with a restraining order so wide you’ll have to move to New Zealand!” Sensing that he’s defeated, dad scurries out of the house and gets in his car, driving away without another word.

“Ricky…” I say, stunned by my brother’s violent outburst.

“What?” Ricky shrugs. “For what he said and did, he deserved to be punched in the face. Guess I’ve got to find another way back to the train station now…”

“For that, I’LL drive you,” mum says, giving Ricky an awkward hug. “Why DID you come with him anyway?”

“Like I said,” Ricky says, “dad called up out of the blue and said something was wrong with Leon and I needed to come down urgently, I got two days’ leave citing family emergency, here I am. First I thought something had happened to you, hence why dad’s calling me and not you, but it didn’t take too long to figure out that he was having one of his flip-outs and it was pretty obvious it was about Leon stroke Laura.”

“And you didn’t tell him about Laura?” Mum asks.

“Like I said,” Ricky repeats more firmly. “I don’t see what business it is of his. If he really cared he’d have called within the last nine years.”

“He sent me a birthday card,” I mumble.

“Oh wow,” Ricky snorts. “One card in nine years, what an amazing dad.”

“It’s one more card than I got from you this year,” I say, earning a confused stare from my brother as mum looks on disapprovingly.

“Didn’t you get my parcel?” Ricky asks, and I shake my head. “Oh, mate, I am sorry. Fucking Royal Mail.” I open my mouth to speak when I’m interrupted by a knock at the door.

“That’ll be your grandmother,” mum says. “Wait here, you two.” Ricky and I dutifully remain on the sofa whilst mum answers the door.

“Le-“ Ricky starts, but I interrupt him.

“If you’re telling me to get a haircut, I won’t,” I say defiantly.

“I wasn’t,” Ricky says. “I WAS going to talk about seeing a counsellor at work, but if you’re going to interrupt me, I shan’t bother…”

“No, go on, please,” I say.

“After I went to that meeting with your counsellor with you and mum,” Ricky says, “I booked in to see one of the counsellors on camp. Obviously I did this in private so that none of the guys caught wind of it, but when I talked to him about you and everything, he actually said that what your counsellor said- about me having some sort of narcissistic disorder- might be right.”

“…What did he say about me?” I ask, making Ricky laugh.

“Ha, who’s supposed to be the narcissist in the family?” My brother teases, making me frown. “Nah, seriously, he said that I should try to be more accepting of your- well, ‘you’. Kinda helped me to remember that you’re not a little boy any more, when I was 12 I thought I knew everything. Though in fairness, I DID know everything, still do, actually. So no, no talk of haircuts, when you want one, you’ll call me for it.”

“Suppose I never want one ever again?” I ask.

“You will,” Ricky says smugly. “So, did dad REALLY try to abduct you?” I prepare a response when once again, I’m interrupted, this time by mum returning to the living room with grandma in tow, whose jaw drops when she sees Ricky sat on the sofa.

“You’d better not be tormenting your sister, young man!” Grandma scowls, making me bite my lip to stop from giggling- though my facial expression quickly falls when grandma immediately turns her attention to me.

“And I don’t see what you’re grinning at, young lady!” Grandma says. “You might think it’s acceptable to wear that much make-up when you’re twelve, but I certainly don’t!” My eyes instantly direct their attention to the floor as I shuffle upstairs.

“I’ll clean myself up,” I mumble. Ten minutes later, after I’ve remove all my make-up save for some mascara (and my nail polish, which grandma actually loves), I’m sat with the rest of my family around the dinner table, eating a delicious meal prepared mostly by my mother and grandmother, but which I played a small part in making too. Needless to say, grandma was furious when she heard about dad’s actions over the past few days, and whilst she was openly unhappy about Ricky’s ‘solution’ of the problem, deep down I can tell she is at least slightly proud of him for smacking down dad.

“You know,” Ricky says, “I could actually get used to having a sister, this way I’m the only man in the family and I can get waited on hand and foot.” This time, I do let out a giggle as grandma projects a VERY stern gaze at my brother.

“Good,” grandma says. “Then you won’t mind doing the washing up!”

“Why can’t Leon do it?” Ricky asks with a shrug.

“You can’t expect your sister to do the washing up with her nails, surely?” Grandma retorts as I casually splay my blue-tipped fingers for my brother, who simply rolls his eyes.

“Fine,” Ricky sighs. “I honestly DID send a parcel for your birthday, Le-“ A stern glare from grandma makes Ricky pause before completing my ‘boy’s name’.

“I did send a parcel,” Ricky says. “Just a small one, had a couple of books in it, some vouchers for high street stores. Basically tried to make the presents as androgynous as possible. I sent a Christmas parcel too- before I realised I’d be here in person, that is. It’s the same sort of stuff in there.”

“Thanks,” I say with a genuine smile. “I, um, didn’t actually get you anything, after I thought you’d not got me anything for my birthday…”

“That’s okay,” grandma says. “I’ll take you shopping tomorrow, you can get something then.”

“Umm, my friends are coming over tomorrow morning-“ I argue, before realising that there’s no arguing with grandma.

“Then we’ll go tomorrow afternoon,” grandma says firmly. “There’ll not be much left but you’ll definitely be able to find something for your brother, right?”

“Right,” I say defeatedly. After finishing dinner (and Ricky’s had the chance to wash up), we sit down to watch television for the rest of the night, though grandma also insists that I change into my ballet gear and dance a few steps for her as well- something I’m only too happy to do! After changing into my night dress and climbing under my warm sheets, I close my eyes and get ready to fall asleep when my bedroom door opens and Ricky comes in uninvited, sitting down on the edge of my bed.

“You know, I am NEVER going to understand why you’re doing what you’re doing,” Ricky says. “But the counsellor I spoke to said that it’s important I allow you to make your own decisions, so that’s what I’m going to do.”

“Thanks,” I say.

“And I’m NOT going to allow dad to take you,” Ricky says. “If I have to punch him a hundred times, I will. I know I shouldn’t, but I genuinely hate him.”

“Was it really bad?” I ask. “You know, before he left?”

“Mum and dad were arguing almost constantly,” Ricky says bluntly. “He’d shout at me too, of course I was your age back then so there wasn’t anything I could do about it, but I always wished that I was strong enough to just shut him up.”

“Guess we both got what we wished for,” I giggle.

“Yeah, I guess we did,” Ricky says with a brief chuckle. “Good night… Lau...ra.” I can tell by the strain in his voice just how difficult it is for Ricky to say my real name, and I can’t help but smile that he is finally able to get the name out.

“Good night, bro,” I say, still smiling as Ricky turns out my light and I almost immediately fall asleep.

After a thankfully dreamless sleep, I wake up, take my ‘boy-blocker’, wash and dress in a very plain grey dress with thick black tights underneath. Conscious that I’m going to be spending at least part of the day with my grandmother, I leave my face make-up free- though as I’ll be spending the morning with my friends, I know my face won’t be make-up free by the afternoon!

After breakfast, during which Ricky and I talk casually with mum about his work and my school, I barely get a chance to catch my breath before Priya and Suriya arrive, both wearing very Christmassy red dresses with red tights. Both girls gasp in shock, though, when they see my brother in the living room.

“I’ll take this as my cue to leave,” Ricky says, grabbing his kit from the hall. “Merry Christmas, mum, merry Christmas, Laura.”

“Merry Christmas, Ricky,” I say, giving my brother a quick hug and a peck on the cheek as he leaves. With a smug smile on my face, I turn to my Indian friends, who are both still staring at me with their jaws on the floor.

“No offence,” Suriya says, “but do you have more than one brother?” I giggle happily as I lead the girls to the living room, where- after being joined by Nicole and Megan- I fill them in on the events of the last two days.

“Oh my god,” Nicole gasps as I finish my tale. “Laura… So much for a ‘happy Christmas’…”

“It’s not all bad,” I shrug. “I got my brother back, which is something, I guess. And I’ve lived without my dad for nine years… I don’t WANT him back.”

“He sounds even worse than Harriet’s dad,” Megan muses.

“How can anyone think it’s right to talk to a twelve year old girl like that?” Priya spits.

“YOUR dad is much more of a dad to me than my so-called ‘real’ dad is,” I say.

“Sometimes I forget how lucky we are to have such awesome parents,” Suriya says, gripping her sister’s arm for support. “Even if you keep falling out with mum!”

“I’m a teenager,” Priya giggles. “I’m supposed to be constantly falling out with my parents!” The five of us all giggle excitedly- the sound of which is the most welcome thing in the world after the last few days.

After a couple of hours of gossiping about parents, listening to music, dancing and, yes, putting on make-up, my grandma knocks on the front door, signifying the end of our latest ‘playtime’. I let my grandmother in, who after tutting at my made-up face (even though I’m not wearing nearly as much make-up as yesterday), spots my friends in the living room.

“Ah, you must be my granddaughter’s friends,” grandma says with a warm smile. “Let me guess… Priya, Suriya, Megan and Nicole, right?” The four girls giggle as grandma correctly identifies all four of them, despite the fact that none of my friends have ever been formally introduced to her.

“Yep!” Nicole giggles. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs.… White?”

“It’s ‘Mrs. Clarke’,” grandma says politely. “But you’re more than welcome to call me ‘Laura’s grandma’!” The four girls all giggle whilst I blush with embarrassment.

“Nice to meet you, ‘Laura’s grandma’!” Suriya says.

“It’s good to know that Laura has such good friends,” grandma says, taking a seat in her usual chair. “Even if, like my granddaughter, you all wear too much make-up!” I cringe slightly as grandma spends the next fifteen minutes getting to know my best friends (and coos approvingly at their manicures), before Mr. Malik takes them away in his people carrier.

“You have such good friends,” grandma says as we get in her car, ready to go shopping. “I’m so glad that you’ve settled in at school, as Laura.”

“I never would have if it wasn’t for them,” I say. “Though not everyone has made it easy for me…”

“Are you talking about that Harriet girl?” Grandma asks, and I nod in response. “Well don’t you mind her. You have four close friends who genuinely care about you, and that’s the greatest blessing you can have apart from family. Love the four friends you have, instead of wasting time trying to make a fifth friend who isn’t interested.”

“I know,” I sigh.

“Now cheer up,” grandma urges, making me force a smile onto my face. “It’s Christmas! We’ve got to get that brother of yours a present, even if he won’t get it until after Christmas, it’s the thought that counts!”

Two hours later, we return home with Ricky’s gift (a small keyring which reads 'lance corporal'- Ricky’s rank- 'by day, badass big brother by night'), which I quickly wrap and pop into a padded envelope, ready to post after Christmas. Once I’m done, I head down to the living room and crash on my sofa, opposite mum, who has a very worried look on her face.

“What’s up?” I ask.

“It’s nothing,” mum says.

“No, tell me,” I plead, but mum simply forces a smile onto her face. “Is it about dad…?”

“It’s nothing, really,” mum insists. “I swear, I will never let ANYONE take you away from me or force you to be something- or someone- you don’t want to be. I love you, Laura. Now let’s just enjoy Christmas, eh?” I smile and nod, but it’s clear from the way mum’s speaking that everything is NOT alright.

Even as I go to bed, I worry about what the future might bring. I should be excited- it is Christmas Eve, after all- but the recent ‘incidents’ with dad, and mum’s worried expression tonight mean I have difficulty sleeping.

I wake up and throw my covers back excitedly, running downstairs as fast as I can and ripping open my first present. Inside, however, I find a pair of smart boy’s trousers. Confused, I open my next present- a football. My next present is a set of toy guns, followed by a new pair of football boots, a set of Batman comics…

“Merry Christmas Leon,” dad says, coming in from the kitchen. Instantly, my trousers wrap themselves around my waist and I scream in terror as I’m dragged deeper and deeper into a black hole of masculinity…

I’m still screaming as I wake up in my bed. I quickly check my body, breathing a sigh of relief as I feel my night dress still in its proper place. After a quick check of my alarm clock- which reads 3:15am- I roll back over in bed, but no matter what I try, I can’t get back to sleep, I’m that excited about what my REAL presents might be… And terrified that my dream may come true.

I eventually head downstairs just after 6:15am to find mum already awake and preparing a special breakfast of cheese and scrambled eggs. At her insistence, I start tearing open my presents to find everything I’d hoped for- make-up, nail polish, ballet books & DVDs, and endless amounts of clothes- underwear, including tights of many different colours, a pair of shorts, two new skirts, a new dress, several girly tops and t-shirts, two new pairs of girly flats and even a new pink winter coat. By far my best present, though, is a joint present from mum and grandma- a new Android tablet that I immediately hook up to the house’s Wi-Fi and use to log in to Facebook and send excited messages to Nicole, Megan, Priya & Suriya, who all message back with tales of the presents they all got. Before I eat breakfast, mum gives me one more package from underneath the tree- the parcel Ricky sent, which arrived yesterday whilst I was out with grandma. Inside are two yellow unisex t-shirts and a pair of very plain, androgynous trainers. I giggle as I fire off a ‘thank you’ message to my brother on my new tablet- whilst he’s not fully accepted me as his sister yet, he’s clearly making at least a token effort.

After breakfast, I change into a new pair of red tights, my new dress and a pair of new flats, before applying a small amount of make-up, pulling on my new winter coat and following my mum out to her car.

“So,” mum asks. “Did you get everything you wanted?”

“I did,” I say a warm smile. “I just got most of it BEFORE Christmas, that’s all!” Mum and I both giggle happily as we drive to grandma’s for our Christmas dinner.

And I did get what I want... But at the same time, I got more than I asked for. Even as I eat Christmas dinner, as grandma coos over my new dress (and tells me off about my make-up, even though I'm hardly wearing any) and I feel more immersed in my new girl's life than ever, I'm still uneasy. After nine years, I'd got used to not having my dad in my life, and now, I wish more than anything that he'd stay out of it. As bad as Ricky reacted to my change, dad is a hundred times worse... And whether Ricky's 'siding with me' because he truly accepts my change or because he hates dad as much as I do, I can't say. One thing's for sure, and that's that I've not heard the last from him.

But if my friends have taught me anything, it's that I need to stay positive. After the holidays end, I'll still be a schoolgirl, I'll still be a (wannabe) ballerina, I'll still be a (wannabe) actress, I'll still take my 'boy blockers'... I'll still be Laura, no matter what some middle-aged stranger who used to be my father says. His son is gone... And if he wants a daughter, it's up to him to change to meet her needs, not the other way round.