I’m not a big girl. It’s fashionable for girls to be six four at least these days and I can’t afford the treatments. I’m a blonde, not even a strawberry blonde, and its fashionable to be really bright red these days, and I can’t afford that either and I’d be laught at if I dyed my hair. Truth is I’m not even really a girl at all, or at least I didn’t used to be. That’s why I can’t afford the treatments. I spent all my money on making my body match my mind. I used to be a boy who always dressed and behaved like a girl, in my head I was a girl, now I am.

I didn’t get any grief for the way I was, like I’ve read folk like me used to get, but I didn’t feel right. I’m one of six siblings and we inherited a sixth share each of Granny’s estate when I was eight. The others had theirs invested for them by Mum and Dad, something to do with trustees, but, with Mum’s and Dad’s permission, there was a special clause in Granny's will do with educational or medical need, I blew mine immediately on the DNA modification procedures to make me a girl. I’ve never regretted it, but I wish I’d had enough to be taller than five three and to be a red head, though of course in ten years time it could be fashionable to be four foot nine and dark brunette.

Oh, sorry I forgot to say, I’m Georgette Spencer. I used to be George, but I dumped that as soon as I was old enough to understand girls weren’t called George, I'm not sure when that was but I don't think I'd reached three maybe not even two. Mum and Dad were fine about it all and Mum and my sisters made my childhood like that of any other girl. I don’t think Dad remembers he ever had a son, so I’m number four in a line of six daughters. He does that sometimes for a laugh, he refuses to remember our names and calls us by numbers, sometimes he’ll ask, “Are you number four or number five?” A lot of my friends are envious I’ve got such a cool dad.

Sissi, Cisavek really, is eighteen and is going away to Bristol university in the autumn to study population dynamics, whatever that is. Lenni, Lenska, is seventeen and taking her Advanced Levels this summer, she’s a clever clogs and wants to read physics at university. We all do martial arts, but Lenni is a regional champion at some oriental marshal art with a completely unpronounceable name. Kammi, Kamiliika really, is sixteen and has just started her Advanced levels and doesn’t know what she wants to do other than it has to be life sciences related. She’s told Dad she’s going to open a male bordello! Then there’s me Georgi at fourteen. I’m doing my Ordinary levels this summer, by which time I’ll be fifteen. I’m cleverish, and want to do anything for Advanced levels that can get me to be an architect.

Sari, Sariya properly, is twelve and hasn’t got a clue what she wants to do, but we all think she’ll end up being a stand up comedienne. Lales, Layla, is the baby at eleven and wants to do fashion and design, she’s really clever with her hands and has a bad temper. We all treat her with a great deal of caution and respect because it’s just amazing what she can do with a frock that doesn’t hang just right. If we upset her she’ll tell us to sort it out ourselves. We all put our money together for her tenth birthday to buy her a sewing machine of her own. Mum and Dad helped us out and she has an absolutely top of the range model that can even do embroidery.

My sisters are all taller than I, even Lales is five seven, and they all inherited Granny Spencer’s bosom, but I got mum’s which though respectable is hardly over powering. Mum says I’ll live to be grateful, cos her boobs are still reaching for the horizon, but my sisters’ without considerable assistance will be reaching for their toes before they reach thirty. She’s probably right, she usually is, but that’s then, I’m living now.

So why does this all matter? It’s because of Michael Stahlschmidt. Michael is sixteen, and super cool. He is clever, the school’s best player of everything and there isn’t a girl in the school from Lales’ class up who doesn’t want to go out with him. He’s six feet four, has a six pack that’s so chiselled you can see it when he’s wearing a shirt, and is gorgeous. I dream about him, I do. I try not to but it doesn’t work. And he’s nice. He sorts the bullies out and is pleasant to everyone, no one is below his notice. Yes, you’ve probably gathered in Sari’s words I’ve got the hots for him. She says if I get any hotter I’ll end up naked as my clothes will melt off. Sometimes I hate her, but only cos she’s right.

So why does this all matter. Well, if it were just an unrequited crush that would go away in a few weeks, I’ve had it happen before, and to my embarrassment my family won’t let me forget, it wouldn’t matter. I’d be a bit more weepy than usual at that time of the month, but Mum would give me some chocolate, she has a secret store for just that purpose, and I’d get over it. Like I said, it wouldn’t matter.

But Michael has approached Kammi who is in his registration group at school. He claims he has a crush on me and wants to invite me to the Easter ball at school, but is scared I’ll blow him out! As if! What bothers me is some of his friends are friends of Sari’s despite the age difference. She’s four years younger than most of them, but what makes them friends is their senses of humour. They are all part of the review group that puts on humorous sketches and the like at regular intervals on the stage at school, and none of them are above winding someone up in the interests of a good laugh. I know Sari wouldn’t do that to me, but some of her friends would put Michael up to it and they wouldn’t tell her.

Anyway, because I know he’s out of my league, I’ve never let anyone other than my sisters know about my crush on him, and have always acted normally with him. I’m good at that. So why would Michael be interested in me? I know me being born a boy wouldn’t make any difference to him, or indeed anyone else, but somehow it makes a difference to me. I’m only cleverish and I have two left feet and hands at sport. I’m blonde, tiny chested and I’m not a big girl.

I cried as I told Kammi all my fears. She hugged me and said she’d find out if it were real or a hoax and God help Michael if it were a hoax. That was Friday evening, and I was dreading school on Monday. At some point before I went to bed all my sisters had reassured me everything would be ok. It was obvious they had a plan, but wouldn’t tell me about it.

I went to school as normal on Monday, but I didn’t see Michael. After school Kammi told me, “Michael is coming round tonight at eight, Georgi, to ask Dad if he can take you to the ball.”

“What happened at school today, Kammi,?”

“Lenni told him you were bothered it was a wind up. She said if it were she wasn’t sure she could take him out on her own, but she was sure the five of us could kick it out of him and leave him in a real mess, and that the social media footage wouldn’t be good for his street cred.

“Seriously? Lenni threatened him?”

“Yeah she said nobody messes with one of her sisters, and if he was taking on one of the Spencer girls he was taking em all on. She was worse than Lales with time of the month. I wouldn’t have wanted to upset her. Anyway, you get yourself ready after dinner. Lenni told Mum and Dad what’s happening, but after that you’ll be wanting to take a walk somewhere. No? Well done, Georgi! That’ll upset the copper topped giants won’t it?”

I didn’t eat much dinner. I felt a bit sick. Unusually, Mum didn’t remark on it or tell me to stop messing with my food and eat it.

Dad was actually less embarrassing than I thought he would be. He told Michael, “I’ve heard good things about you, Michael. Just make sure you live up to them or I’ll turn my daughters loose. I seriously doubt you’d be able to better Lenska, but all of them? Not a chance, son.”

Michael replied quietly, “I don’t want to upset any of them, Sir. I just want to take Georgi to the ball.”

Mum said to the pair of us, “Be back for eleven, it’s a school day tomorrow.”

I nodded and Michael said, “I’ve a class at eight thirty, extra maths for science students, so I need to be home early too. Thank you.” He held his hand out for me to take and I didn’t know which was more embarrassing to be seen to hold it or to be seen to refuse. I wanted to, so no contest.

I waited till we were away from the house and demanded, “Why me? I’m not over bright, I’m too uncoordinated to be any good at games, I’m blonde, nearly enough flat chested and I’m tiny. Why me and don’t give me any bullshit or I’ll walk home on my own.” Hell I’d really got it on me. I must have been listening to Lales too much.

I’d clearly rattled him, but he answered or at least he tried, “None of those things necessarily make anyone a nice person, Georgi. Most of the clever girls think about nothing other than their studies, I’m not saying they shouldn’t study but not every second of the day. The games players seem to think they’re an elite and don’t like some of my friends. I certainly don’t measure a girl by the colour of her hair, her height or the size of…” Realising what he’d been about to say he faded away.

“So it’s Hobson’s choice is it? I’m all that’s left?”

“No. Certainly not. I’ve always liked you. You’ve time for everyone. Yes, everything you said about yourself was true, but there’re a lot more things to a person than those.”

I couldn’t help it. I just had to add, “You know I used to be a boy?”

That completely phased him, “Of course, but I don’t get what that’s got to do with anything, least of all whether you’ll partner me to the ball.”

“Ok. I believe you.” I could see Michael was relieved.

Puzzled, but relieved when he said, “I think you’re really pretty and your height is a big part of that.”

“So it’s because I’m not a big girl, that’s why me?”

“Yeah, partly it’s because you’re not a big girl. You ok with that?”

“Yeah. I can live with me not being a big girl if it makes me pretty.”

Kammi was right, this was going to upset the stinking rich, copper topped giants and I didn’t mind that a bit. As for the rest of the conversation it was nothing profound and in any case far too much information.