“Morning!” beamed my Mum, as we saw each other on the landing, both making our ways towards the top of the stairs. She was far too cheery for this time of the morning, if you were to ask me.

“Mornin’,” I mumbled back, as I started to head down the stairs, my Mum a few paces behind.

“This is very early for you,” commented my Mum, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, fine, thanks,” I continued to mumble, as my Mum followed me into the kitchen.

Everything was okay. However, my mind was playing over some upcoming conversations, and I was allowing them to trigger my anxiety.

I was worrying what Emma, James’s Mum, wanted to talk about. I’d played numerous - perhaps mostly ridiculous - worst-case scenarios over and over in my head. Fruitlessly telling myself to stop being so silly, numerous times.

Then, I had also agreed to meet Sarah for a coffee later this morning. And it was more of the same; playing through elaborate scenarios of what might happen, what might be said, what I’d say in response, what would then happen. All utterly pointless; unless the objective was to make me feel anxious.

“Sorry for getting back so late, last night,” my Mum apologised, “With so many of the Exec team together in person, the evening turned into a bit of an ad hoc board meeting. Did I wake you up?”

“No, I don’t think so. Well, not that I remember, anyway. I was pretty tired last night; and was in bed by ten. Come to think of it, that’s probably why I’m awake now,” looking at my watch to see it was barely just past 6 am.

“Not working too hard, are you?” my Mum asked, as she gestured to ask if I wanted a coffee.

“No, I don’t think so. I’m making good progress though,” I suggested.

“Well, that’s good. And all registered with the college. That’s great. Was it all pretty straightforward?”

My Mum and I had exchanged a few text messages yesterday, so she knew what had been going on. She was also checking in from time to time, to make sure I was okay.

I went on to explain to my Mum some of the details of what I’d discussed with the college’s admissions office, and what would happen next. I told her about the part of the application for that asked for gender and pronouns, and why I had answered what I did.

“Well, that all makes sense to me. I don’t know if the gender would need to tie-back to any ID like a passport they might need to see, but that does say male. And definitely, with the ‘she’ pronoun. It would potentially be a bit awkward to look like you do, and have people calling you ‘he.’ Whilst I think about it,” my Mum went on, “which toilets have you been using?”

I was a bit surprised by my Mum’s question, “I haven’t,” I answered, “I’ve not gone to the loo whilst out.”

“Not when shopping with Claire? Or your date and trip out with James? Wow, I’d have gone at least ten times in that period!” my Mum answered with a laugh.

“It’s not that I didn’t need go. I just held it. I didn’t want to go into the gents like this, and I didn’t think I should be in the ladies.”

My Mum looked at me sympathetically, “Oh Sam, you silly girl. Use the ladies! It’s not safe for you in the gents. You’ll do yourself a mischief holding it in.”

“Okay,” I replied.

“And, as I had mentioned in a message yesterday, Dr Adams is going to give me a call later, to see if she, or one of her colleagues, is able to arrange some chats with you. She did suggest a specialist she knew, that she thought might be better suited for you. I’ll let you know what we discuss.”

“Okay, thanks.”

My Mum left for work soon after. I spent a few more minutes waking up sat in the kitchen, and after finishing my coffee I went back upstairs for a shower. I was meeting Sarah at the Costa just up the road from the school at 11am; I guess she had a free period.

As was becoming the norm, I got my nose into my books. It was back to maths this morning. Mechanics was my least favourite module, behind Pure Maths and Statistics, and I allowed the thoughts on my mind to distract me from the topics of projectiles, acceleration, and whatever else I should have been paying more attention to. Regardless, time still flied, and at about half-past ten, I thought I should think about leaving to meet Sarah.

The temperature outdoors hadn’t heated up through the morning, like I had expected it to when I got dressed at around 7am. It was cloudy, and quite cool. I would need a coat to go with the white vest top and ripped jeans that I was wearing. Although, I didn’t yet have one that I thought was suitable. After unsuccessfully having a look what my sister might have left behind, I checked what my Mum might have.

In her dressing room I found one that I thought might work. It was long and light coloured. After trying it on, it fit pretty well, and luckily wasn’t as warm as I was worried it was going to be. I quickly convinced myself that my Mum wouldn’t mind me borrowing it for an hour or so, and also assured myself that she’d be okay with me also borrowing a handbag that I thought was a good match.

I’d thought about what to wear today for quite a while. Whilst I didn’t fully know what Sarah wanted to meet for, I did know it would be the first time I’d be spending time in the company of a woman who I wasn’t related to, since my coming out. I wanted to look good and nothing like a boy, but I didn’t want to wear a skirt or a dress. I had this strange feeling that I’d be taken for some kind of a fraud, and a real woman would call me out for wearing ‘her’ clothes. It was also occurring to me that I was being stupid, and these thoughts were just the by-product of over thinking those unlikely eventualities.

After waiting about five minutes for a bus, the ten minute long journey saw me dropped off just a stone’s throw from coffee shop. I looked at my watch, and was about five minutes early. I slowly walked past the front of the cafe, trying to look through the window, to see if Sarah was already there. She wasn’t. I went in, and secured what I thought was a good table.

Sarah must have been almost right behind me, for I had not even taken my coat off and sat down, as she entered the cafe. She scanned the room from left to right, and once her eyes locked onto me looking back towards her, she broke into a wide smile. She gave me a brief wave, and then headed over to the table that I had selected.

“Hey hun, how are you doing?” she asked, with an air kiss to one of my cheeks, before indiscreetly scanning me up and down, keeping her wide smile all the time.

“Hun?” I thought to myself.

“Hi Sarah, I’m good. How are you?” I asked.

“Well, upset to be losing my leading lady, but otherwise great. You look good, hun. I love your coat,” said Sarah, as we both sat down. “It looks like a Valentino.”

I was a bit confused. I had thought that Sarah was going to try and convince me to come back to school for the sake of her play. At the least, I thought she’d ask me to fulfil my role in the play, even though I wasn’t a student. She seemed resigned to the fact that I’d not be a part of it. Why exactly we were here, I did not know.

We shared some small talk for several minutes whilst getting some drinks, with Sarah doing most of the talking.

“You know, I do think you owe me, for dropping out of my play,” said Sarah, with a grin.

“Oh yeah?” I enquired

“Well, we won’t get anyone who can fill your shoes. And that role was expanded just for you,” Sarah went on.

“I’m sure you can fill it; I was a complete novice. But how do you mean, expanded?”

“Well,” Sarah paused, “I thought you knew? Did you not see the original script?“

I shook my head.

Sarah smiled, “Lucy was only a walk-on with two lines, before I cast you as her. I expanded it, once I saw how perfect a Lucy you would be. I mean, I didn’t expect you to look quite as gorgeous as you do, but I knew that you’d be pretty.”

I didn’t know what to make of what Sarah was telling me.

“How does being pretty improve the play?” I asked.

Sarah laughed, “It doesn’t. It’s just a school play; with most of the actors only there because they don’t like cricket, or tennis, or any of the other sports they’d be made to play instead. No, this was more me being a bit selfish.”

“Being selfish?”

Sarah nodded, “Yeah, but I don’t feel too guilty though; you must have enjoyed it.”

I was getting a bit lost, and wasn’t entirely sure we were having the same conversation. “Sorry, what were you being selfish about? When you made the role bigger?”

“Well, it was just for my enjoyment, not really for the good of the play. I’ll be straight you with you, Sam. I like pretty boys dressed as girls. And you were very pretty,” said Sarah, placing a hand on a mostly bare knee of my crossed legs.

“Oh,” I replied, shifting to sit more upright, dislodging Sarah’s hand, “I see.”

“Good. So you’ll understand why you dropping out was so disappointing?”

“Erm, yeah, I suppose so,” I replied. “Sorry about that.”

“Well, I can’t even ask you to stay on in the play, for as a non-student you wouldn’t be covered by the school’s insurance. Not that we have accidents, or anything. Hence, why I think you owe me a favour,” said Sarah, with that grin returning.

“Erm, I guess. Maybe.” I offered.

Sarah laughed, “It’s nothing to worry about, Sam! I was wondering if I could take you out for dinner. Maybe this weekend?”

“Oh,” was all I could say.

“It’d be nice to get to know each other better. Don’t you think?” Sarah added.

“Well, if you thought I owed you, why would you get me a dinner?” I asked.

“You’re more than welcome to take me out on a date, Sam,” replied Sarah, still with that grin.

I think I had finally caught up; I was now worrying what I might have said whilst not quite being on the same page as Sarah.

“But, you’re my teacher. I couldn’t,” I argued, trying to say ‘no thanks’ in the politest way I could think.

“Not any more, Sam. What do you say?”

I thought best to double-check I was following correctly. “You mean like a date, don’t you?”

“Yes, of course,” answered Sarah, clearly a bit surprised that I needed the clarification.

“I’m sorry, Sarah, I’m seeing someone,” I advised

“Oh,” said Sarah, with a slight pause, “Someone you’ve been with for a while? Is she okay with how you now look?”

“Erm, no. It’s new, and it’s a boy,” I advised.

“You’re gay? No wonder you didn’t complain about the kiss scene. I didn’t know,” said Sarah, with genuine surprise.

“I wasn’t then. Things have changed quite a bit, lately. And I did complain about the kiss. Quite a bit.”

“Hmm,” mused Sarah, “if you liked girls, you must still do. Don’t you fancy me, Sam? Don’t you think I know most of the boys do?”

“Erm, Sarah,” I paused, not knowing what to say, “I think I should go,” as I stood and picked up my coat from the arm of the chair.

Sarah reached out and gently grabbed my arm, “Call me, Sam.”

“Bye,” I simply said, as I walked out.

My head was awash with thoughts. I was in shock that my old teacher, the director of the play, seemed to now fancy me and expected me to feel the same way for her; but more so, shocked that she felt so comfortable being so upfront about it. So pushy about it.

I reached the bus stop, and carried on walking. I didn’t want to be stood waiting in sight of the coffee shop. I’d expect Sarah would see me when she left, and would try to offer me a lift. Speaking to her again didn’t appeal to me. I walked towards the next stop. Before I knew it, about 45 minutes had passed, and I was home.

“Should I tell someone about this?” I thought to myself, “Has she done something wrong?”

I convinced myself that she was simply asking someone out on a date. My surprise to receive that offer didn’t make it wrong. She wasn’t dangerous. I decided that I’d just forget about it.”