Seven Dresses - The Sixth Dress by Maeryn Lamonte Copyright © 2023 Shelley spends the last few of the holidays playing with neighbours and catching up on homework with a couple of new study-buddies. Then they invite her to hang out with a few friends at the mall. She agrees to go, because soon she'll have to do the same thing at school. What she doesn't realise is that most of the school rugby team will be meeting them for the event...

The First Dress I Wore to School

The rest of the holiday turned out to be not dreadful.

On the downside, Dad barely spoke to me, responding to just about anything I said to him with a grunt if I was lucky. I would catch sight of him looking at me quite often when he was about, his expression somewhere between pensive and disapproving.

On the upside, I made quite a few friends and learned a lot. I spent quite a lot of time round at the Peterson’s, enjoying playing like a girl for the first time in my life and learning a lot of what I’d missed. Mrs P was a little wary of me at first, which I suppose wasn’t surprising, but I made sure Sophie and I were always somewhere she could find us at short notice and I was careful never to do anything that might have been seen as compromising. The closest we came in that regard was the game of Twister we tried to play with just the two of us, which left us in hysterics and dumped us unceremoniously into a small tangled heap on more than one occasion. Paradoxically, it may have been that which persuaded Mrs P that we could be trusted.

The two girls in my class who lived locally – Linda and Meabh (pronounced Maeve) – were just as unsure to begin with, but when Mrs Peterson started sharing stories of how Sophie and I were getting on and how I seemed more like an older sister than anything else when we were together, enough of what she had to say filtered through to the girls that they were prepared to give me a go. “After all, if two heads are better than one, three heads have to be better than two, right?” as Maebh put it.

I was open with them from the start.

“I know you’ve probably heard about me by now, but I want to be honest. I was born a boy, but I’ve always felt more like a girl. I’m taking drugs to stop puberty which have a side effect of suppressing any sexual urges I might have, which is as well because I don’t want them. I just want to be a girl, or to be fair, I think that’s what I want. This is my first chance to find out and only time will tell what I decide in the end. I’m never going to be all the way female. In a few years I’ll be able to take female hormones and after that maybe have surgery, but however much they can make me look right, It’ll only ever be skin deep.”

“So why do it then?” Maebh asked.

“Because it’s better than nothing. Because I’ve always been a girl deep down and if I at least look like one, then people will be more likely to treat me like one. What I have to figure out is, is that enough?

“My choice is between becoming a fully functioning male who always feels like he should be female, or becoming someone who looks and feels like a woman, but never will be completely, so it’s not going to be obvious what the right choice is for me.

“I hope I can make friends along the way who will support me with the decisions I need to make, but for now what I really hope is that I’m not going to freak you guys out and we can get some maths done, ‘cos I really don’t get this stuff.”

Honesty proved to be very much the best policy as it enabled them to relax with me a lot quicker. Linda was the whizz at maths and science with Maebh proving that much more able than me, but between them they had me understanding it well enough to finish the homework and feel confident about the outcome.

I proved to be better at English and helped them with their essays. Between Maebh and myself, we managed to sort out Linda’s history and geography – history mainly me, geography mainly Maebh – and the rest we muddled through together.

In one of our final sessions in the last week before school began, Linda mentioned that she and Maebh were going to meet up with some friends in town and asked if I wanted to join them.

It brought all my nervousness crashing down on me. The previous week had involved walking around the neighbourhood and meeting friends in small groups. Next week I’d have to deal with a school full of kids, and that had me scared enough – not that there was any going back now. My parents had already informed the school that I would be coming back as trans, non-binary.

“How many friends, and will it just be girls or...”

“I think there’s eight of us?” She looked to Maebh who nodded. “Nine with you. It’s just us girls, but we might bump into some guys while we’re out. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

It would be a taste of things to come with some of the girls I’d seen Linda and Maebh hanging out with being former antagonists of mine.

“Will Hannah and Cheryl be there?”

“Almost certainly, but we’ve told them about you and they’re cool with it. Everyone’s cool with it.”

Until they chose not to be. Still, I couldn't hide forever, and if I could make even one additional friend, it would make school that much easier.

Linda and Maebh came round to collect me. Linda looked cute in a yellow tee-shirt and denim shorts while Maebh had opted for a very short yellow mini dress. They looked like a couple, and I was relieved I’d chosen the green dress from my cousin’s hand-me-downs over the yellow dress she'd put me in that first day at the hotel.

“I love that dress,” Maebh said. “Do you think maybe I could borrow it sometime.”

“Sure,” I said, gathering my keys, phone and wallet into my handbag and hunting out a pair of kitten heels that would go with it. “Bus?”

“Leaves in ten. Can we have a quick look in your room?”

Dad was out so no source of dissent. Mum shrugged and nodded, so I took my friends up for a quick look.

The place was transforming slowly. My duvet and pillows were pale yellow with lace trim, the posters on my walls had been replaced with cute drawings of kittens and bunnies I’d downloaded from the internet and put into some old picture frames we had cluttering up the loft. The main feature was still the clothes rail which sported the best of my clothes.

“Wow!” Linda exclaimed heading straight for my fairy dress.

“Bespoke,” I said. “From a shop near where my aunt lives. She thought I needed something super-special to wear when I met my Mum for the first time.”

“That’s an odd way of putting it,” Maebh said.

“Well, it’s like I’ve become a totally different person since doing this.”

“And how!” Linda handed me the dress. “Come on then, let’s see you in it.”

“We’ll miss the bus.”

“So? We’ll catch the next one.”

We actually missed two buses. The girls kept me trying on different things until they had me in the dress I’d chosen to come home in.

“Now you’re ready to meet everybody,” Linda said and shooed me out of my room. It wasn’t quite a bombsite, as I’d insisted on hanging things back up as soon as I changed out of them, but my green dress still lay across my bed, since I’d expected to change back into it.

I was worried I might be a bit overdressed for the company we were going to meet, but it proved not to be the case. Linda texted ahead, so the group were waiting for us at a food court just inside the mall entrance. Two of the girls were definitely dressed down in distressed jeans and loose-fitting tops. One of them wore a trouser suit that wouldn’t have been out of place in some swanky law firm. The remaining three wore dresses of varying quality, ranging from the quality of the green dress my friends had rejected to something that almost rivalled my fairy dress.

“Hoping we might bump into Wayne, Cheryl?” Linda asked, eliciting a few titters from around the group and a faint blush from Cheryl herself.

“It is a lovely dress,” I offered.

“And who the hell might you be?” Cheryl wasn’t an easy friend to anyone, apparently.

“I’m the freak you’ve probably all been hearing about. Last year you knew me as Michael.”

That brought the chatter to an abrupt standstill.

“What do we call you now?” It was Hannah, one of the grunge wearers and formerly the worst of the bullies among the girls.

“My cousin thought Michelle would work well, and I kind of like it. My aunt calls me Shelley most of the time.”

“I hear you've made friends with Sophie Peterson.”

“Yeah, she’s been showing me what I’ve been missing about being a girl.”

“She’s my cousin. She has good things to say about you.” She quirked an eyebrow at Cheryl who shrugged.

“Yours is really pretty too,” she said, though she didn’t sound massively like she meant it.

“Thanks.” I made sure I sounded just as indifferent.

“So, Shelley,” one of the other girls I didn’t recognise said, “are you into guys or girls?”

It was one of the many questions for which I’d prepared an answer. “I haven’t really decided yet. I don’t think I’ll be ready to make up my mind for a while either. For one thing, I need to make sure I’m happier as a girl...”

“Of course you’ll be happier as a girl.” Cheryl interrupted. “I mean who wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know. Maybe Wayne?”

Renewed laughter and more blushing.

“I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re absolutely right. Wayne wouldn’t.”

“Wayne wouldn’t what?” A gruff voice and two very beefy arms encircled Cheryl from behind.

Wayne was one of the good ones, unless you crossed him. He was a year ahead of us and possessed a prop forward’s physique, which also happened to be the position he played on the school rugby team.

“Oh,” Cheryl said leaning into the hug. “We were talking about who wouldn’t choose to be a girl if they had the chance. Shelley here suggested you, and I think she may be right. I can’t think of anyone less likely to want to be a girl.”

“And Shelley is...?”

I waved a little self consciously.

“Do I know you?”

“Shelley’s starting at the school this year.” It felt strange to have Hannah covering for me after all the misery she’d brought my way.

“So how do you know me?” he asked, intrigued more than interrogating.

I shrugged. “One of the others mentioned your name, like maybe there was a thing between you and Cheryl, and she seems like the sort of girl who’d be into, you know, real men?”

Wayne laughed. It was a deep sound, but filled with genuine amusement. “You're alright, new girl. And with that in mind, who here wants to meet some real men?” He gestured vaguely towards a group of guys loitering over the other side of the mall.

I shot Linda an accusatory look. She responded by glancing guiltily at Hannah who, in turn, smirked and twitched an eyebrow at me. Not so much a gotcha as a challenge, as in what was I going to do about it.

A quick head count confirmed our numbers matched. Most of the girls were smiling nervously and jiggling in anticipation. This was apparently most of the reason for today's little outing. Wayne’s hand gesture had apparently been a signal of sorts, as the group of lads started heading our way. They didn’t make up the whole rugby team, but as far as I could tell, they were all members and in the year above all of us girls.

“Hey Josh,” Wayne called and the smallest of the group of lads detached himself and trotted over. He was handsome with a friendly smile and a look of uncommon intelligence about him. “Josh, I’d like you to meet Michelle. Shell? Shelley?”

I shrugged. “Any and all,” I said, holding out a hand. “New girl works too, apparently.”

“Yeah. Shelley’s starting at the school this year.”

Meanwhile, Josh took my hand and raised it to his lips. It was a silly gesture, but it had an odd effect on me. I felt myself flush and fill with an odd warmth while my brain sparked and short circuited.

“I, er, I wasn’t expecting this. I thought we were just meeting up to wander round the shops.”

“That's still the plan,” Hannah said through her smirk. She’d paired off with her own slab of beef. “Only now we get to do it with these guys.”

“You don’t mind, do you?” Josh asked. “I mean, I know I’m not built like the rest of these guys, but...”

“Josh is the team hooker,” Wayne explained. He wasn’t a mansplainer, but sometimes he assumed too much knowledge in his audience.

“Isn’t that...?” I stammered, giving Josh a decidedly confused look.

“A prostitute?” he chuckled. “Only in America. I’m the guy in the middle of the scrum whose job it is to hook the ball out to my team.”

“And a scrum is like when you all do that group hug thing?”

He laughed again, but in a friendly and open way. “We don't have to talk about rugby if you don't want to.”

“Thanks. I'm not really in to sports.”

“How about sportsmen?”

“I don't know.” A few of the girls turned suddenly worried looks my way. Was this maybe an all or nothing deal? “I mean sure, why not?” The looks of relief suggested I was right. “It’s just, I don't know, don't get too comfortable, okay?”

“Is it just me you don't like?” Josh asked putting on a mock wounded face. Hannah meanwhile was giving me warning looks, the subtleties of which I couldn’t quite grasp.

“No. I mean, I like you. At least, you know, first impressions and everything. It’s more, I don't know, I'm not sure you'll like me so much when you get to know me.”

Hannah’s warning look intensified. Subtleties duly understood. It didn’t get me out of the minefield though.

“I can’t imagine why you’d think that. I mean, a girl as pretty as you.”

There went the blush again. It didn’t make much sense. With the testosterone blockers I shouldn’t have felt anything, unless maybe I had a small amount of some other hormones.

“Just, can we take it slow? At least until we get to know each other a bit better? I’d hate to get your hopes up then, I don’t know, disappoint you.”

“Oh, I don’t think you'll do that, but sure, well take it slow.”

The tension in the group faded. Couples started drifting off in different directions until just Josh and me, Cheryl and Wayne and Hannah and her side of beef remained.

“So, what’s really going on here?” Wayne asked.

“Nothing,” Hannah chopped in before I could find the courage to form a response. “Shelley’s just nervous ‘cos she doesn’t know anybody.”

Not true. I knew most of the girls and had even had a run in with several of the guys in the rugby team in my previous years.

“Shell?” Wayne wanted to hear from me. No implicit threat, but Hannah’s hunk was a little intimidating.

“I’ve never done anything like this before,” I said nervously, but truthfully. The truth would be important when everything was revealed. “I, er, I’ve always tried to keep to myself. I was picked on quite a bit before this,” I flashed my own brief challenge at Hannah, “so I’m a bit nervous when someone springs a surprise on me.”

“Well, hopefully I’m a nice surprise,” Josh said, “rather than the nasty ones you’re so evidently used to.”

I smiled at him. I knew what effect my smile had on me, so could imagine what it would do to him. I did try to tone it down a bit, but wasn’t sure how well I did.

“Definitely a nice surprise,” I said. “I just hope I don’t end up being the nasty one.”

“What do you mean?”

Now I was getting warning vibes from both Cheryl and Hannah. “Can I tell you later? Just, no expectations this morning, okay?”

“I guess I can live with that.”

Hannah and Cheryl moved off with their guys, each giving me an unhelpful little meaningful look as they went. I more or less got the meaning, but it didn’t much help me figure out what to do.

“So now it’s just the two of us, maybe you’d like to say a little more?” Josh asked.

“I suppose that kind of depends. What would happen if I told you something that made you not want to be with me anymore?”

“I guess I’d be disappointed, but I’d say goodbye and head off home.”

“And when the others find out that you went early?”

“The plan is that we all meet up afterwards, so I suspect Wayne in particular wouldn't be that happy with Cheryl, since it was them who set it up and we were all supposed to have a fun time.”

“How do you feel about living in denial for the morning then? I mean we can do stuff together, I’ll pay my own way, we won’t try to take things further than just enjoying each other’s company, and after we’re ready to go our different ways, I’ll tell you what’s bothering me.”

“I guess I could live with that.”

So, we wandered around the mall. Josh did take hold of my hand at one stage and I didn’t want to bring more of a downer to the day than I already had, so I let him. Besides, I kind of liked it. He insisted on buying lunch, and again I didn’t feel I could turn him down. The chicken salad I chose was hardly going to break the bank.

We talked about just about anything but sport, which endeared him greatly to me. He wanted to know about me, which was hard because I’d lived so much of my life crammed into a person I didn’t really want to be, and avoiding the attention of people who would call that sort of person loser and make their life more miserable than it already was. But I didn’t really have a way of telling him about that without either lying or telling him too much. I hadn’t been the new me long enough to realise I could now dream of a future where I could be something, but there was one thing I’d discovered quite recently that was a growing passion.

I told him about the essay I’d written for English, which had him confused for a bit until I told him how much I’d enjoyed writing it, how much it helped me, being able to express my feelings in words.

Telling him about my controlling and manipulative father was relatively neutral ground, and segued neatly into drawing the parallels out of the story behind the film. I must have done something right because he listened with rapt attention as I spoke about the feelings writing had released.

“You should totally do that,” he said at last.

“What?”

“Write. You have an amazing way with words. I don’t know anyone in my year who could write half so well as you sound just talking. I want to hear more.”

“Maybe another time.” There was that blush again. Self-conscious delight at his response. “I want to hear about you. You don’t strike me as a typical sporty type.”

So he told me about his hopes and dreams, to become an architect or a civil engineer. His heroes from history included Isambard Kingdom Brunel, Christopher Wren and a selection of other names I’d never encountered before. I could feel the passion in him and wondered if I sounded half so excited when I spoke about writing.

The afternoon wore on. We found enough things to laugh at that it became apparent we enjoyed a lot of the same things. I paused at enough shop windows to admire the dresses on display that he began to comment, first suggesting things that would look good on me, then making gentle fun of me by pointing out some of the seriously outrageous things on show in some windows. I retaliated by stopping at a few sporting goods shops and pointing out some of the more garish trainers. Eventually we found our way back to the food court where the whole thing had begun.

He stopped me when we were still a way off, still out of sight of all the others.

“I’ve had an amazing time, Michelle. I don’t remember ever enjoying myself more with a girl. Usually they’re all just gushy and excited to be around a member of the school rugby team, but you’re different, in a good way I mean.”

“I never expected to enjoy myself so much either. Josh, you’re an amazing guy.” I could feel the clouds looming overhead. “I guess it’s time for that uncomfortable truth though.”

“One more moment of denial,” he said cupping my chin, lifting my face until I was looking into his eyes. Advancing slowly, looking for any signs that I was going to pull away.

I wanted to. I didn’t want the fallout that would come from this, not for me but all the more not for him. But I didn’t want to at the same time. I didn’t have time to resolve the internal battle though, which meant inaction won. I felt his lips on mine, gently caressing.

You remember your firsts. First kiss, first crush...

I pulled away, turned away. I could feel tears prickling the backs of my eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that Josh, I'm sorry.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“It’s what I wanted to tell you earlier. Josh, do you remember a kid from my year last year called Michael Thorne?”

“Not really. Unless you mean that sad loner kid who was always being... picked... on.”

“Tada.” I did a very understated jazz hands.

“You’re a guy?”

“I kind of found out over the summer that I’m trans, almost definitely. My doctor’s giving me something to block my body’s testosterone production, so I’m kind of not anything at the moment. Not physically. I mean, yes, I have the same equipment as you, but it’s kind of little and largely inactive...”

“Largely?”

“I use it to go to the loo, but it doesn’t do anything else.

“I don’t know exactly what the future holds for me. Right now I need to explore whether or not it feels more right for me to be a girl, and right now I don’t think there’s any question. In a few years, I’ll have the choice to start taking female hormones. A year or two after that I can have my bits rearranged. Right now I’m stuck in between, and I guess most people, once they figure out what’s going on, will see me as a boy in a dress. I’m hoping that in time I’ll be able to show them I’m actually a girl in a boy-skin, but it doesn’t change what that all means for you and me.

“I’d have told you at the outset because I don’t want to lie to anyone about this, but then that would have messed everything up for the group and maybe got Cheryl in trouble with Wayne. I’m not sure whose idea it was to invite me along to this, but I don’t think Cheryl deserves all the blame.”

“Hang on, the girls know about you?”

“Yeah, I kind of owned up to it before Wayne arrived. Linda and Maebh knew before that, and I think Linda may have said something about telling everyone. It felt like a set up when Wayne came over, but I don’t think they were all involved.”

“It explains why you said what you said about just keeping things friendly, but why did you let me kiss you?”

“I didn’t want to because I knew how awkward this moment would be, but I wanted to at the same time because... I don’t know, I guess however messed up I am right now, underneath it all I am a girl and I... just... really... wanted... you to. Sorry?”

“So, where do we go from here?”

I looked up at him, half expecting to flinch away from the anger I’d find there, but he showed no emotion other than concern.

“Well, I don’t plan to hide what I am or who I was. Blowback would be a lot worse if I were found out rather than admitted to it all, so the question is how do you want to handle having spent the day with whatever I am in everyone else’s eyes?

“We can say I came clean early on and you were cool enough about it just to spend the day with me so we didn’t spoil everyone else’s fun. Then after today you don’t have to see me ever again, except maybe in the corridor at school and I won’t mind if you ignore me.”

“What if I do want to see you again?”

A trickle of cold ran down my spine. For a second I couldn’t breathe.

“I’d really like that,” I said, unable to lift my eyes to look at him, “but you do realise what it will mean? You’ll be the guy who goes out with the boy in a dress. They’ll call you gay and queer and a whole bunch of other things.”

“Let them. It’s okay to be gay these days, besides I don’t think I will be, will I?”

“Well, no, but it’s different from their perspective. Josh, please at least take a few days to think about it. You’re an amazing guy and I’m in real danger of falling for you big time, but you need to be sure you want this before you do it. I’ve had four weeks to decide I want to go back to school as a girl, even though I have a pretty clear idea what it’ll mean when the arseholes find out. You don’t have to be tainted by association with me, and I’d much rather you saw what you were letting yourself in for before deciding to do it.”

“I doubt it’ll change how I feel right now, Shelley, but if you want me to do that, then okay.”

“We should rejoin the others,” I said, pushing gently against his chest. “If all we get from this is today, I’ll at least have some great memories.”

“A few more of those to come then,” he said putting his arm around my shoulder and pulling me to him. I couldn’t help but snake my own around his waist. He propelled me gently towards where the rest of the crowd were congregating.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked.

“Never surer. Whatever happens, you’ll be okay with my friends and me.

“Hey everyone,” he called as we arrived.

Hannah looked a little too satisfied, putting me on my guard. “Have a good time, guys?” she asked.

“Fantastic,” Josh replied with enough enthusiasm for us both, “and for those of you who were in on it, Shelley told me everything, and I’m okay with it.”

“Told you what?” Wayne wanted to know.

“Up to you, Shell,” Josh said. “Yours to share or not, as you like.”

“I guess everyone will know soon enough,” I said, sounding a lot more confident than I felt. “I’m, er, I’m trans. I used to be a boy.”

“What!?” Wayne did not seem pleased. His mammoth counterpart on whom Hannah was leaning did not look it either.

In for a penny, I thought, one of Uncle Richard’s obscure little sayings cropping into my mind. “Actually, technically I still am a boy. They won’t do much to you at this age. I used to be Michael Thorne if anyone remembers who he was.”

“Who knew about this?” Wayne rumbled like distant thunder.

“Does it matter? When I accepted the invitation to come, I thought I’d be spending a couple of hours wandering about the shops with a group of girls, maybe get my ears pierced. To be fair, they did warn me there might be boys involved, but I didn’t realise that bit was going to be compulsory until you’d more or less paired me up with Josh.

“By then, I didn’t have much choice. If I’d backed out, it would have ruined the day for everyone, so I trusted Josh was as good as his reputation and waited till we were on our own. It took me a while to gather a little courage, but I told him about me, and he was totally okay about it.”

“This true, Josh?”

“I can’t remember ever enjoying myself more. And yes, she did tell me about it before things went too far.”

“So what was that I saw a couple of minutes ago with you two playing tonsil hockey?” Hannah was pretty much crowing with delight.

“That was me going a little far AFTER Michelle told me. It was also a first kiss, so no tongues were involved.”

“What the hell man,” Wayne wasn’t handling it well, neither for that matter was his silent counterpart. “Are you gay or something?”

“Maybe, if you still live in the last century. I thought we were all supposed to be cool with the LGBTQ scene. And I ask you, does anyone see anything other than a girl right here.”

I withered a little bit under the scrutiny, but managed a shy smile.

Heads shook all round, except maybe Hannah’s. Even Wayne and Hannah’s pet leviathan joined in.

“I guess not,” Wayne spoke for the group. “Okay Shell, you’re good with us, just don’t mess with our star player.”

Matters resolved and all present and accounted for, the lads drifted off in response to some unseen signal, and the girls began to disappear as well. Before long it was just Linda, Maebh, Hannah and me.

“We’re sorry,” Linda said, “we didn’t have much of a choice.”

“It’s okay. Can I ride home with you guys?”

“Sure, if you still want to.”

“Of course. Just give me a minute here.”

My two study buddies retreated a short way and it was just Hannah and me.

“Not too shabby, freak,” she said. “You’re not as much of a loser as I remember.”

“I’m not struggling with pretending I’m a boy anymore.”

“Whatever.”

“Listen, I get that you and I are never going to be friends...”

“Ha! You wish.”

“Actually, I don’t. I think I'm a lot better off without someone like you as a mate. I’d be just as happy if we agreed to give each other as wide a berth as possible.”

“Suits me.” She stood up and started to saunter off.

“One more thing.” She paused and glanced back, listening. “You try and screw with me again, I’ll find a way to make you regret it.”

“You don’t have the guts.”

“That’s a shame, because now I’m going to have to show you that I do. Watch your back, Hannah.”

I headed for where my two friends were waiting.

“Shelley, we’re really sorry...” Linda reprised her hand wringing.

“And I said it’s really okay. I know what Hannah can be like when she thinks she has a reason to be nasty to you.”

“I suppose you do.”

“Yeah, well, it’s about time she got taken down a peg or two. I don’t suppose you happen to know the name of her boyfriend, do you?”

“Who, Speechless?”

“Who?”

“His real name’s Micky, but everyone on the team calls him Speechless because he never says anything, unless it’s to Hannah.”

“Thanks, that’s a good place to start.” I had thoughts floating through my head, slowly forming into the framework of a plan, but this part of the creative process was best left to my subconscious. “Hey, do you think we have time to get my ears pierced before we catch the bus?”

---

There wasn’t much to be done for the few days that remained of our last week’s holiday. All homework was complete, so I had no pretext to visit Linda or Maebh. I did drop in on Sophie to play a few times, and I may have asked in passing if she had any funny stories she could tell me about her cousin.

It was like a dam bursting. Sophie didn’t have much affection for Hannah, and she had access to so much family dirt.

A lot of the remainder of the time, I spent on my aging laptop. Dad’s reason for giving me such a lousy one was to stop me wasting my time playing games, but it was almost too decrepit to run any useful programs. On the plus side, that meant any writing I wanted to do on it started life in a simple notepad programme, which kept me sharp on my spelling. It also meant I had simple text which was then fairly easy to copy and paste into a WordPress page.

I created a site entitle 'The Hideous Histories of Hannah the Horrendous' and sketched and scanned a few simple but recognisable pictures of Hannah to add to the text.

I wrote a few Introductory paragraphs about Hannah the Hag, who had a hideous mole on the back of her neck. In real life the mole wasn’t anything worth writing about, but Sophie let slip how much Hannah was self-conscious about it and kept her hair long in an effort to conceal it. I also introduced a few characters such as Micky the Mute, an affable giant who’d had his voice stolen by the evil witch and who was forced to do her bidding on the vague promise that she’d give it back someday.

With the groundwork laid out, I wrote the first story which I entitled ‘Hannah the Horrendous and her Anus Horribilis’, a story based on a time when Hannah had come down with amoebic dysentery whilst on holiday. It was a purely fictional story, of course, with disclaimers and everything, and I embellished the truth with the most extreme hyperbole. It wasn’t my best writing, but it was funny, and all the more so for the believable degree of truth involved.

I posted links to the site on Facebook, WhatsApp and Instagram where school friends could find it and shared links to it with the girls I’d met on the Mall excursion, via Linda and Maebh who were keen to do something to get back into my good graces.

By Friday half of our year group at school had seen the story and quite a few had posted comments, most of which were supportive of me. Also on Friday I received an email from Hannah which just said simply, “Take it down or I’ll destroy you.”

I wrote a few paragraphs about Hannah the Horrendous’ nemesis, Michelle the Mysterious, a wordsmith with a magical quill who had vowed to stand against the evil witch and bring an end to her tyranny. It spoke of how, when threatened, Michelle’s response was to put her quill to work. That the first two stories were warning shots across the bow and she didn’t want to escalate to full on broadsides.

Below it was a story entitled ‘Hannah Face Plants a Cowpat,' based loosely on a holiday excursion in which Hannah had tripped and landed in something wet and unutterably filthy, and had been unable to clean any of it off until most of it had turn crispy in her hair and clothes.

The next email was one pleading for the stories to be removed and promising not to be such a cow.

I left the site up for an additional day and sent Hannah an early draft of the third story I’d been writing. This one included certain characters, easily recognisable as individuals at school, and some of the underhand things Hannah had done to them in recent years.

On Saturday evening I removed the stories from the site, replacing them with the promise of more, should Hannah the Horrendous not make an effort to mend her ways.

Sunday came and went relatively peacefully. I had a few texts and emails asking where the stories had gone, but they’d served their purpose, I hoped.

---

Monday meant a school uniform. With the summer weather extending into September, that meant blue gingham with a navy cardigan just in case it turned a little cool. I’m not sure if the uniform had been designed purposefully to be as unflattering as possible, but if I could pass as a girl in it, it would be all me and no help from my clothing.

I stood in front of the mirror and twisted back and forth. No makeup, not that I’d experimented much with it anyway, but it was school policy not to wear any. A lot of girls ignored that particular rule once they reached their teens, but it was most likely another puberty thing and that didn’t apply to me. At least not yet.

The night time face creams had started to show dividends though, and between my clearer complexion, my pixie cut and my dolphin studs, I still looked kind of cute. Jewellery was also not allowed, but studs for ear and nose piercings were overlooked as long as they weren’t too obvious. Lacy ankle socks and patent leather T-bars helped complete the look, and even if the dress looked like a sack, I at least looked like a pretty little girl in a sack.

With a rucksack full of books that was about as big as me.

Well, not really, but it was just about as much as I could raise up off the ground, and I wasn’t looking forward to the walk to school. Dad could have offered to give me a lift, but he still wasn’t saying much, plus I think he was hoping that the more time I spent in public ‘looking ridiculous’ the sooner I’d be ‘done with this nonsense.’ His words, gleaned from the few gems he was prepared to utter in my presence.

I’d arranged to meet with Linda and Maebh on the way, so at least didn’t have to enter through the school gates on my own. It didn’t make a lot of difference though as there were a couple of teachers waiting to herd me into the headmaster’s office the moment I arrived.

Mr Oslow carried every year of his considerable age like a burden. His sallow skin hung loose on his face giving him significant jowls and bags under his eyes. He was entirely bald, and would most likely have been white haired if he’d had any. He didn’t seem happy to see me, though I can’t remember him ever being happy about anything.

“So, you’re actually going to do this are you? I had hoped... but alright. On your own head be it.

“We have a whole school assembly to start the day, you can wait with Miss Prentice until it begins. I'll say a few words and then introduce you as a new student. Is that alright?”

“Thank you, sir. I wondered if I might say a few words as well.”

“I'm not sure that would be a good idea.”

“Do you know much about why I'm doing this, sir?”

“No, I confess I find this whole thing to be utterly perplexing.”

“Then, with respect sir, I’m not sure you'll be able to say anything helpful.”

“I can tell the school to leave you alone and that we'll be watching.”

“Yes sir, but that hasn't helped me much in the past.”

“No, I suppose it hasn’t. Very well. It’s probably not much more ill advised than your turning up looking like that. No more than five minutes though. We do have quite a few notices to get through.”

“Thank you, sir.”

So I spent the next half hour fiddling nervously behind reception with Miss Prentice until Mr Oslow finally appeared and led me to the hall...

Where the entire school sat fidgeting and murmuring speculation on what this was all about. I mean, first day back usually involved a school assembly, but the rumour mill had been grinding.

“Good morning all,” Mr Oslow waited for silence and eventually got it. “Welcome back for another year of life and learning. We have a number of notices to get through, but I doubt any of you will be listening until we address the issue that’s on everyone’s minds.

“I’m sure all of you have heard the rumour that one of our students, who was a boy last year, has chosen to return to school as a girl. The rumour is true, and the student in question has asked to address you all, so without further delay...” He stood to one side and offered me the microphone.

“Erm,” I said, “hi. My name’s Michelle, but last year some of you may have known me as Michael. Thorne.”

The place erupted, pretty much as I’d expected. A lot of laughter, most of it louder than the situation merited. Quite a few cries of, “I knew it!” or “I told you so.” A general cacophony of sound.

I stood by patiently while Mr Oslow took back the microphone and made dire threats of whole school detentions unless order was restored. When everyone had just about settled, I stepped in front of him and held out my hand for the mike, which he surrendered after a short deliberation.

“I suppose it would seem funny to most of you,” I said quietly, regaining most if not entirely all my audience. “Most of you are happy being exactly what you are. You girls feel right at home in female society and you boys are just as comfortable being the boys you are.”

The room was totally quiet.

“It’s not the same for me. It never has been, and I’ve been struggling to come up with a way to explain it. The best I can do is invite you to take part in, what is it Mr Miller calls them? A thought experiment.

“Close your eyes if you will, and imagine yourself going home tonight. It’s been a pretty normal first day back at school. On the plus side, you’ve caught up with some of the friends you didn’t see over the summer, on the minus side you have some homework already.”

A few people jeered, but it was relatively good natured.

“Evening goes as normal, you girls have texted each other till your thumbs are numb, you lads have watched a bit of rubbish on the box which involved either kicking a ball about or blowing stuff up and shooting things. It’s time for bed. For the girls it’s upstairs, brush teeth, cleansing routine and into those soft, comfy nightclothes. Your room smells faintly of your perfume, your sheets and duvet are soft and snuggly. Everything feels normal. Not special, but normal and you're content.

“For you lads the whole things a bit quicker. Brush teeth, into a fresh pair of boxers or whatever you sleep in and into bed. There are posters of football players in action or Marvel and DC superheroes on the wall. Again, everything is normal and you drift off to sleep feeling okay with the way things are.

“I should say, I know what I’m saying isn’t true for everyone, but hopefully it’s close enough to the norm that you can get the gist of what I’m trying to put across.

“Because morning comes and everything is wrong.

“If you’re a girl, imagine waking up wearing nothing but boxers. Those breasts you older girls are so pleased with, and you younger girls are hoping for and maybe feel beginning to grow, are gone and there’s this awkward thing dangling between your legs,” Several raucous jeers, “part of which is sticking to the inside of your thigh which is gross,” lot’s of cries of yuk or euw, and a severe warning look from the headmaster. “I’m sorry, I’m getting a little too graphic. There’s a sort of funky smell in the room, which you realise comes largely from you. You want to scream but all you can manage is a sort of ugly croaking sound. You go to the bathroom and look in the mirror, and you definitely aren’t pretty anymore. You have a whole bunch of zits that you try to scrub away, but it just makes things worse as you take the tops off some and make the rest of your face red raw.

“You manage to shower away most of the smell, then end up going overboard with deodorant to mask what’s left. You wonder what your friends are going to think of you, so you try texting them. By the time breakfast is ready, most of the girls you thought were your friends have blocked your number because they don’t want anything to do with unsolicited messages from a boy, and a spotty one at that. Your parents treat you as though nothing is wrong. You look ahead to the day and wonder how you’re going to get through it. You don’t have any girl friends to help you cope, and you’ve seen how boys are with one another and you don’t know how to do that.

“Nobody realises how you feel inside and nobody’s prepared to listen to you. Everything feels wrong and you realise everything’s going to keep feeling wrong maybe for the rest of your life.”

The room was pin drop quiet.

“That’s how I’ve felt since my earliest memories. I mean none of the shock of suddenly turning into something else, but all of the misery of always feeling like I should have been otherwise.

“You boys, you wake up in a big poofy bed with flower smells everywhere. You're wearing a nightdress and everything is so soft, including you. I could go into details again, but I’m not sure I have a lot of time left. Plus if I were to talk about what older girls go through every month, I imagine Mr Oslow will take the microphone back from me pretty quickly.

“Even without details like that, you can imagine what it would be like for you to wake up in a girl’s life. Some of you might feel like maybe it’s something you could enjoy, in which case there’s a possibility you’re a bit like me, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Most of you would just feel horrified by what switching lives will mean that you’ve lost.

“What I wanted to put across to you is, there are some people in this world, like me, who have to cope with it for real. In my case it turned me into a depressed loner that quite a few of you thought would be fun to pick on. I’ve heard of kids like that who saw no way out of their misery and ended up taking their lives. I’ve decided that’s not an option and I plan to take more positive control of my life instead. Right now, I don’t know for sure if I’m going to go all the way,” I made snipping actions with my fingers that had most of the boys protecting their delicates, “but at the very least I’m going to go far enough to see if it’s worth me doing so.

“Right now I’m taking drugs that block my body from producing testosterone, which should prevent me from going through puberty with the rest of you for as long as I keep taking them. It'll also mean that, even though I’m stuck with something between my legs I don’t really want, I’ll only be able to use it for going to the toilet until I either stop taking the drugs and let nature complete it’s original plan, or I reach an age when I’m allowed to complete the change in a different way. For now, I’m stuck in a sort of in between place, probably until after I’ve taken my GCSEs, but I plan to live as I intend to go on while I’m waiting. If you’d like to share my journey, I’d really value some friends. If you think what I’m doing is totally weird and can’t handle it, then maybe the kindest we can do for each other is to give one another space.

“I’m not doing this as a publicity stunt or to freak anyone out. I’m doing this because standing here in front of you lot, while it scares the sh... I mean wits out of me,” a few appreciative laughs, “it also makes me feel more right than I’ve ever felt in my life. I’ll happily talk to anyone who wants to know more, but I’m not going to let any of you push me around. Not anymore.

“Thank you, sir.”

I handed the mike back to Mr Oslow and started to make my way to find a seat. The headmaster held me back, for what reason I couldn’t be sure. It took a while, but a few of my classmates started to applaud. The clapping increased until well over half the room was standing. Not all by any means. The likes of Hannah and the other haters remained seated with their arms crossed. I noted a few faces as people to be wary of. However, most of the school, from youngest to oldest, stood and showed an unexpected degree of appreciation.

The noise subsided and Mr Oslow bent to murmur in my ear. “Come to my office after assembly, before your first class.”

“Yes sir.” I could only think it had to do with my anatomical references, however vague I’d tried to keep them.

---

He was already behind his desk when I arrived, typing away at his computer – most likely a letter to my dad. He nodded at a chair and I perched nervously on it while he kept writing to the end of his paragraph or whatever.

He turned to me and steepled his fingers.

“It took a lot of courage to do what you did today, Michelle. Standing in front of the whole school is one thing. Doing so as you are dressed and admitting to be a boy, well...

“I have to admit, when your mother contacted me a couple of weeks ago, I didn’t know what to make of you. I thought... Well, I’m not sure what I thought, but I’ll admit, I wasn’t inclined to take you seriously. You changed my mind just now.

“School is a place of learning, but usually it’s you pupils who do the learning and us teachers that do the teaching. This morning you turned that around and impressed me, something that has occurred on only very rare occasions in my career. If the response you received in there was anything to go by, you impressed a good number of your peers as well.

“I’ve written a letter to your parents. I thought you might like to read it.”

He twisted the screen round so I could do just that. ‘Dear Mr and Mrs Thorne, I’m writing to tell you how very impressed I was with your daughter this morning...’

It went on in similar vein for several paragraphs, but that opening said it all. Not so much that he was impressed as the way he referred to me.

“Thank you sir.”

“We need to sort out how you make use of the toilets and changing rooms. You don’t have PE today, do you?”

“No sir.”

“That makes things easier for today at least. Here is a pass to give you permission to make use of the staff toilets. I don’t think it would be fair to allow you to use the girls any more than it would be fair to ask you to use the boys, do you?”

“No sir.”

“This is going to be an issue for the next three years at least, I imagine. Do you have any ideas for a more permanent solution?”

“Me, sir?”

“Of course. Since the issue affects you, it occurred to me you may have some thoughts on the matter.”

“Could we maybe have a unisex-toilet block?”

“I’m not sure that would be a great idea. Too open an invitation for couples to have a little alone time. Would a non-binary toilet work, do you think?”

“I’d be the only person using it, sir.”

“For now, but who knows what the future might bring? You do make a point though. We could only afford to set one aside since it’s only you, and that would mean you’d have quite a way to go to get to it.”

“And if it ended up being out of order for any reason...”

“You mean if any of our less tolerant students were to sabotage it. You do make a point.”

“Would it be something I could ask, to have the staff toilets renamed as staff and non-binary? For one thing, no-one’s going to mess with staff toilets, for another, it’d mean I’d have access to as many facilities as the other students. I mean, I’d understand if some of the staff felt uncomfortable about me doing that, and maybe we could make it just a few...”

“I’ll raise it at the staff briefing tomorrow. For now the pass should get you by. How about changing rooms?”

“I’d be happy enough to be excused games, sir.”

“I’m sure you would,” he chuckled, “but I don’t think that’s an option. Alright, leave that with me. You have history first, don’t you?”

“Yes sir.”

“Give this to Mr Lyons. Don’t mix it with your toilet pass. Alright, Michelle. Have a good day, and do tell a member of staff if you have trouble with anyone.”

“Yes sir. Thank you sir.”