In this chapter, our hero runs into a hall monitor, and school policies.

Copyright 2020 by Heather Rose Brown

=-=-=

My heart was thumping as I climbed out of the car. I scanned the front of the school while closing the car door, and snapped my eyes shut when the one kid I saw looked directly at me.

"Oh, wait a minute!" Mom shouted from behind me.

After checking to make sure nothing had burst out of my rib cage, I turned and crouched down. "What's up?" I asked in the calmest voice I could manage.

My mom reached through the open window, and held out a card. "This is your student ID. It arrived in the mail Saturday when the movers were loading up the truck. Sorry I forgot to give it to you earlier."

I nodded and smiled as I pocketed the card. "No worries. Have a good day at work!"

"I will," Mom said as she started up the car. "You have a good day too!"

I waved as she pulled away, then turned back to the school. There was still someone standing outside the front door. At first glance, I thought I was looking at a guy. When I risked a longer look, the skirted uniform, and the curves underneath, told me I was wrong ... probably.

A cool breeze brushed my hair against the back of my neck. A few dry, reddish-brown leaves skittered across my path as I strode up the winding concrete walkway. I didn't find anything to pull when I reached the entrance, so I gave pushing a try, but the door didn't budge.

"Ya gotta tap to get in," said a voice that sounded both friendly and authoritative.

I turned to the voice, and saw the girl I'd been trying to avoid. My knees wobbled when she smiled at me. I tried asking what she meant, but no sound came out.

"Ya new here?" she asked as dimples joined her smile.

Her plaid skirt and long, black hair billowed in a gust of wind while I tried to speak. After half a dozen agonizing seconds, I decided my voice was stuck on pause, and answered with a nod.

"I figured. Didja bring your student ID?"

I made a garbled noise that was supposed to sound like, "Yeah," as I dug into a pocket. My numb fingers nearly dropped my card as I handed it over.

She gave my ID card a quick look. "Tracy Thomas?"

It sounded weird hearing my last name first, but I didn't have the nerve to correct her, so I nodded again.

Nice to meetcha," she said while bringing my card up to a plastic box attached to the door frame. "Just gotta hold your card against the scanner to get in." The scanner beeped when she touched it with my card, and the doors slid open.

"I'm Richelle," she said as she stepped inside. "Better get in here before the doors close."

I dashed between the doors as they whooshed together, and stumbled into her. I felt something soft against my cheek, then blushed when I realized what I'd bumped into.

"Sorry," I said as I backed up, then lost my footing when I smacked my skull into the door.

She caught me by the shoulders, held on until I got my feet under me again, then said, "You okay?"

"Urmm ... yeah," I said as I looked at my toes. "Sorry for being so clumsy, Richelle."

She reached under my chin, and tilted my head up, until I was looking into her gentle, golden-brown eyes. "It's all good," she said, "and you can call me Richie, if you'd like."

When I remembered how to breathe again, I said, "Umm ... I better get to class."

Her bronze cheeks reddened as her hand dropped. "Oh yeah, you're right. Ya know which homeroom you're in?"

"Uhhh ... no?"

"Ah," Richie said as she held out the sash draped over her shoulder, "that's what hall monitors are for. Follow me!" she called out as she headed down the hallway.

I had to jog to keep up with her long-legged stride, and was half out of breath by the time we stopped.

"Here we are!" she said as she opened a door.

It took me a second before I realized she was holding the door for me. "Oh! Um, thanks," I said as I stepped through.

"De nada," Richie said as she returned my card. "I'm still on duty, so I gotta head back to my post. Ms Etcherson over there should be able to help get ya set up." She gave me a lopsided grin when she let go of the door.

"Welcome to Saint Milton's Middle School," she said as the door closed. I caught the start of a wink before the latch clicked shut.

=-=-=

I was staring at the closed door, trying to figure out how to deal with being winked at by a girl who had some sorta guy vibe, when a no-nonsense voice said, "Good morning."

I turned and saw a woman sitting behind a tall desk that stretched from one side of the room to the other. The clatter of her typing stopped, and she looked over the top of her glasses as she asked, "May I help you?"

"Oh yeah," I said as I approached her. "You Miss Etcherson?"

"That's Ms Etcherson, not Miss."

"Sorry," I said as I shoved my hands into my pockets. "I meant, are ya Ms Etcherson?"

"That's correct. May I see your student ID?"

I pulled the hand that held my ID out of a pocket. "Here ya go," I said as I laid my card on the desk.

She picked the card up with the tips of her long, pink fingernails, examined it a moment, then asked, "Are you Tracy Thomas?"

I frowned and said, "Actually, it's Thomas Tracy."

Ms Etcherson waved my card over the scanner sitting on the desk, did a few mouse clicks, then handed my ID back to me. "Everything in our system indicates you're Tracy Thomas. We have no records of a Thomas Tracy, or a Tracy comma Thomas."

"Who'd have Comma as a middle name?"

A small crease formed between her pinched brows. "What I meant was, when a last name is listed first, there's usually a comma between the last and first name. Our records show no comma in your file."

I took a close look at my card. Sure enough, it showed my last name first, and no commas were to be found anywhere. "But ... but, there's gotta be some mistake."

"I'll send a confirmation request to your previous school," she said as she began typing. "Until we hear back from them, we won't be able to make any updates to your file."

"What? Really?"

"I'm sorry," she said as she looked up from her computer screen. Her voice softened when she said, "I know how rough it can be starting off in a new school, but our policies are there for a reason."

"Okay," I said as my shoulders slumped.

Ms Etcherson gave me a comforting smile, then said, "Let's concentrate on getting you settled in. Did you receive your uniform?"

"Well ... yeah, but I couldn't find it this morning."

"You lost your uniform on your first day?" she asked as her eyes widened.

"Not exactly. A UPX guy dropped off the package ya sent on Friday, when we was getting ready to move. I 'member tossing it in a box with with some other stuff, but I ain't been able find my uniform in any of the boxes we've unpacked so far."

"Ah, I see," she said as she gave me a knowing nod. "What size clothes do you wear?"

"I dunno. Maybe ... medium?"

"I can work with that. Do you know your shoe size?"

"Um, lemme check," I said as I bent down and began untying one of my sneakers.

"Never mind. I've got a pretty good eye for shoe sizes."

"Whatcha need my sizes for?" I asked as I retied my sneaker.

"School policy," she said in a muffled voice.

When I stood up again, nobody was behind the desk. "Hello," I said as I looked around. "Ya there, Ms Etcherson?"

A hand popped over the edge of the desk, and dropped a package of clothes in front of me. "I'm right here," she said. "Just give me a minute."

I rocked on my heels while listening to the rustling behind the desk. After a couple of minutes, Ms Etcherson stood up with a pair of black shoes in her hands, which she placed beside the clothes.

I stared at the shoes.

After a few seconds, I said, "I can't wear those."

"Do they look too big?" she asked.

"No, it's just-"

"Oh, so they're too little?"

"No, it ain't that. It's just they're ..."

"Too dressy?"

"Well, I guess they are, but what I meant was-"

"If you're trying to indicate you'd rather wear your current footwear," she said as a sliver of frustration slipped into her voice, "I need to let you know, this school has a strict dress code. Athletic shoes are only permitted during physical education classes. In all other classes, more formal footwear is required."

"But ... but I can't wear these."

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "And why exactly is that?"

"'Cause they're girl shoes!"

"And?"

"And?!" I screeched, the stress of disbelief making my voice rise an octave. "And," I said as I held out my arms, "I ain't a girl!"

Ms Etcherson looked at her computer screen, then swiveled it around towards me as she said, "Not according to our records."

I scanned down a couple of lines, then gasped when I saw what it said in the gender field. "What the-!" I choked down the swear word. "There's gotta be some mistake. Can't ya tell I'm a guy just by looking at me?"

"Unfortunately, due to recent additions to school policy, no staff members are allowed to make any assumptions about a students gender based on appearance, behavior, or any other related criteria."

My jaw hung open as I tried to make sense of what I'd heard. "That's ... that's crazy! What do I gotta do to prove I'm a boy?"

"School policy requires a Gender Affirmation form, signed by a parent or legal guardian, before a student's gender can be updated in our records." She turned her screen back around. "I don't see any indication such a form has been submitted."

When my fingers curled up, I was reminded of something my therapist had said. After imagining all my frustration gathering into my fists, I opened my hands, and visualized the negative emotions drifting to the ground.

Once I was more under control, I said. "I understand ya need to follow policy. Is there anyone else I could speak to, who might be able to change my file, so it shows I'm a boy?"

"In some special cases, policy amendments can be made by the school principal."

"Great! Can I talk to him?"

"Mrs McCrudger is not a him," she said in a cold voice as she tapped a few keys on her keyboard. "At the moment, she's in the middle of a conference call, and can't be disturbed."

The clear plastic bag crinkled when I grabbed the clothes. "Okay," I said as I picked up the shoes with my other hand, "I'll try coming back after my first class. Could ya tell me where that is?"

"Before you go to class, you'll need to change into your uniform."

"Okay. Fine. I'll wear the stupid shoes."

"And the rest of the uniform."

I thought about what I'd said to my mom about wearing uniforms and following rules, sighed, then said, "Yeah, I'll wear the whole thing. Is there someplace I can change?"

Ms Etcherson pointed to a door at the far end of the room. "You can use the visitor restroom. It's single use, so you can lock the door for privacy while changing."

I gave her a nod, trudged towards the restroom, and tried to shake off the feeling that life as I'd known it would never be the same again.