Back home with his new hairstyle, Sam faces his dad, prepared for a lecture. But then things go off the rails....

5. My dad must be crazy...

When we got home, we found Dad and my older sister Hannah unpacking two medium pizzas and a box of salad from our favorite pizza delivery shop.

"Your hair," said Hannah, staring at me. We look something alike, the same golden hair, roundish faces and hazel eyes. She even wears her hair long, almost to her waist, too. But Hannah is five inches taller than me and very curvy. She's a seventeen-year-old junior at the same school I go to but never rides the bus because her boyfriend picks her up every morning.

Dad has brown hair and eyes, and mom is a sugar blonde with blue-gray eyes. Dad wasn't looking at me, but his sour expression meant he had seen. "Let's eat, I'm starved," he complained. There were sodas, though Dad drank a beer like he usually does with pizza. One beer is all he ever has, but he'll get up and go buy a six-pack before he'll eat pizza without one.

The smell of the food reminded me that I hadn't actually had any lunch myself, just a package of saltines with the nurse. With Mom watching, we all ate a plate of salad first. Then while I reached for my second slice of mushroom and pepperoni, Dad hit us with news of a phone call he received.

"Mr. Frangelli is pretty upset about what you did to Leon, Sam," Dad began.

I started to say something, but he shook his head no and continued. "He called you a lot of names, some of the politer ones were faggot, thug, queer, assassin, terrorist, and freak." Those were the polite ones? "I ignored most of that; he's upset. They're afraid Leon may have brain damage."

"Uh--," I wanted to say how would they ever know, but that would definitely get me in even more trouble, and really wasn't how I felt about what happened, anyway. Besides, Dad shook his head at me again, holding his hand up for silence.

"You keep getting into fights about your hair. It's apparently very important to you. Your mother offered you another chance to get it cut today, and even after what happened, you refused." He took a breath. "Instead, you got it styled and even had your nails done."

Suddenly, I didn't want any more pizza and tried to put both hands behind me, sort of self-conscious about the nearly invisible polish. But Hannah grabbed one hand, saying, "Lemme see! Oh, nice! But you didn't get any color. Some of the senior guys are getting their nails painted blue or green or black. Kinda radical."

No one said anything until Hannah realized this, let go of my hand, and shut up.

Dad spoke again. "Is there anything you want to tell us, Sam? Anything at all? You know we love you, and if there are any secrets you want to share, we're open to anything you want to say. And we'll always love you."

"Even if you are a terrorist," said Hannah, adding a gulp, and a "Sorry," when she saw how that went over. Hannah is almost as much of a goof as I am with the same poor filtering software I have.

But I wasn't getting what Dad was trying to say. "Like what?" I asked. "I don't have any secrets." At least, I couldn't think of any. I may have found a few porn sites on the internet and browsed them briefly, but that shit seriously embarrassed me, and I hadn't gone back to any of them.

Dad looked uncomfortable. "Like if your gay or...or transgender? Do you ever wish you were a girl, like your sister?"

Unaccountably, this made Hannah giggle. I glared at her and shook my head at Dad. "No, I'm happy being a boy, really. I don't want to be a girl."

"Your sister does not get hassled about the length of her hair," Dad pointed out.

"Yeah, well, that's--I don't--Leon is a moron, Dad."

"Even the morons leave your sister alone."

Hannah nodded, still smirking. The point was debatable. Her boyfriend, Gronk, was a Neanderthal, if not actually moronic. His real name was Peytr Bronkowski, but everyone--well, maybe not his parents--called him Gronk. A senior, he'd already been scouted by the NFL, the CFL and something called the AAFL. And several colleges, though that seemed unlikely.

"Huh?" I said. Dad had been talking while I glared at Hannah.

"What about this other boy you injured? Pasco DelForte? What did you do to him, and why? Back in October? You remember?"

Pasco? No wonder he went by Del. "Uh," I didn't want to say. Dad waited until I spoke. "Uh, he pulled my ponytail and caused me to spill my food. So I punched him... in the balls. Everyone thought it was funny, but I guess he went to the nurse. Cause it hurt."

Hannah made another noise. I wished she would leave the room instead of sitting there, stuffing her face with pizza and enjoying my demolition.

"So, it was about your hair again," Dad said. Not a question, but I nodded just the same. "Were there other incidents involving your hair? Ones that didn't result in medical interventions?"

I nodded and shrugged. Hardly a week went by when someone didn't say something. But I hadn't broken anyone else's head or family jewels.

Dad sighed. "Sam, your hair looks nice. We know you like for your hair to look good."

I nodded but stayed wary. "Thanks, Dad," I said. "Mom took me to a hair salon and they really know what to do with hair there."

Hannah put in a comment. "It's so shiny! And those curls! You didn't get a perm, did you? You've alwayss warned me not to get one."

"Uh, no," I told her. "It's just a water set. I can show you how to do it, but we'll need some equipment."

Dad made a noise and he and Mom traded significant glances.

"Sorry, Dad," I said. I knew the lecture isn't over. "I'm listening."

He looked pained. "Your mother and I have talked about this. We think we need to do something to help you."

Huh? Help me what? How? I tried to keep my expression neutral, but I was worried. Were they going to ship me off to military boarding school or something?

"Sam," Dad finally continued. "We think you should take this two weeks to experiment with your identity."

I know I looked blank just then because I had no idea what he meant.

"Your gender identity. You seem confused," he amplified.

I shook my head, but he waved at me to stay quiet. "For the next two weeks, we want you to try living as a girl. We think it might help you...make up your mind."

I stared at him, stunned. Make up my mind? About what? I didn't ask out loud, but Dad answered the question anyway.

"About whether you prefer being a boy, or being a girl."