January 2001

“You really called it,” Ariel remarked, more than a little impressed. Amber only nodded in response, leaving Ariel to peer through the glass of the front window, taking in the view of the frozen wasteland beyond the driveway. The front yard was coated in a layer of white snow, windswept and iced over, its shape frozen as further beyond the road was coated in a layer of translucent ice, uneven and covered in divots as far as the eye could see. The world had been transformed, and the only evidence that it had once lived and breathed was the bright white glow of street lights illuminating the ice in puddles of light gaped with shadow in between. Through the dead of night, Ariel could faintly see the lights of other houses, shadows of movement beyond the windows. The world outside, beyond Amber’s street had ceased to exist.

Ariel turned around to see Rylee – no – Ryan sitting in front of the television in the other room. Home Improvement was on, or something. He looked so out of place in his blue jeans and black t-shirt, like a shadow of the person that Ariel knew him to be. They’d arranged this so nicely, or at least Amber had. Ariel had simply told her parents that Amber’s dad needed help rearranging the garage, but in truth, Ron, her father, was off on some business trip. Amber had watched the weather forecasts, predicted easily that tonight would yield a massive snowstorm, and she was absolutely right.

“They declared a level three emergency,” Amber said, smiling a bit. “No one on the road except for emergency workers. Did you call your parents?”

“They know where we are,” Ariel nodded. “And they know we can’t come home. And they can’t come get us.”

“You sure?” Amber asked, slightly concerned. “I wouldn’t put it past your dad to show up in a bulldozer.”

“They told us to be careful, and thanked us for the free date night,” Ariel smirked. “Funny how that turned out.”

“Well, let’s get started then.” Amber gave Ariel a pat on the shoulder and walked through the room, past the vacant couch and down the brief hallway toward the living room. Inside, Leo, Amber’s older brother was regaling Ryan with tales from his time at Woodcrest University; he’d come back for the holidays, and he was probably stuck here for at least another few days. Ariel threw a glance to the kitchen where Amanda, Amber’s younger sister, and their mother Linda were hard at work preparing dinner. After all, even in the middle of the apocalypse people had to eat.

“Woodcrest has basically everything,” Leo was saying. “Law, science, whatever. I’m pre-med.”

“So you’re going to be a doctor?” Ryan asked with at least some interest.

“That’s the plan,” Leo nodded. “We’ll see how it works out, though. If I don’t like it I can go into healthcare administration or something. Always good to have a backup plan. What do you want to do?”

“I don’t know yet,” Ryan admitted with a shrug. “Do they have computer stuff?”

“You like computers?”

“Yeah,” Ryan replied, nodding. “I’d really like to learn how to make games, but I don’t know how good I’d be at the math.”

“Woodcrest has computer stuff,” Leo assured him. “I don’t know about games, though; you could probably look it up online.”

“Ryan,” Ariel said, interrupting them. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Ryan looked up at her from the couch, apprehension more than evident in his expression.

“Oh, um,” Ryan looked around, to Leo, then over to the kitchen where Amber’s mom and sister were prepping. “We’re going to eat soon though…I think…aren’t we?”

“Food’s not going anywhere,” Leo pointed out as he grabbed the TV remote and began to channel surf.

“Come on,” Ariel said insistently, reaching out a hand for Ryan, who finally, reluctantly took it and allowed himself to be pulled off of the couch. He walked between Ariel and Amber through the archway that led to the brief hallway between the front door and the living room. They walked silently across a white tile floor and stopped at the foot of the stairs. Ariel gripped the edge of the white wooden bannister and climbed upto the darkened upstairs.

As they reached the top, Amber flipped a light switch on the wall, revealing a long hallway with doors to the right and left. Ryan swallowed, realizing he’d never been up here. He and Ariel had come Amber’s house a few times together, but the upstairs had always been a mystery.

“What are we doing up here?” Ryan asked, his voice a sharp whisper as if afraid someone might hear.

“Come on,” Amber’s voice was a bit softer, a bit more understanding, but still firm as she gestured down the hallway, toward the third door on the right. She pushed it open and ushered Ryah in, flipping another light switch to reveal her own bedroom. Ryan stiffened a bit, freezing in the doorway until Ariel gently took his hand and gave him a reassuring smile.

The room, unlike Ariel’s, was equipped with a four-poster bed, makeup vanity, a dresser with a small television, a DVD player, and even a Super Nintendo. Ryan gaped at the television, unable to imagine any scenario where he or Ariel (even with all of her leeway) would have been able to have one of those in their room. It was true that Amber no longer occupied this room; she’d taken more of her belongings when she relocated to her own apartment as soon as she turned eighteen, but still.

Ryan watched cautiously as Amber walked to the closet, aware of Ariel closing the door silently behind him.

“Okay, Rylee,” Amber said, giving Rylee a mischievous grin. “You didn’t get to wear a Christmas dress this year.”

“Um…Christmas was kind of a mess,” Rylee recalled, her voice unsteady as she looked between Ariel and Amber, respectively. Ariel nodded beside her sister as she recalled the day in vivid detail, of their father dragging her through the living room. The shouting, the threats both spoken and implied, and the hours it had taken Rylee to recover, shivering and whimpering in Amber’s tiny studio apartment. The words Ariel recalled speaking to Rylee: “You have a responsibility to me, little sister.” It didn’t go one way, they had a responsibility to each other, and on Ariel’s end, it was becoming heavier and heavier as she watched her new little sister develop mentally, but not physically. She was going to outgrow her cage soon, and Ariel knew that neither of them were ready for that.

“It was,” Ariel agreed, pushing aside all other thoughts. “But come on, I want to see you in this dress.”

The dress that Amber pulled from her closet was made from black velour with a red chiffon skirt, the collar thin but not low. The long-sleeved top slid over Rylee’s arms easily and the skirt fell effortlessly around her legs. Amber handed her a pair of white sheer hose, and Ariel swiftly did her makeup.

“Here, I brought one of your wigs.” Ariel pulled a ziplock bag from her purse and opened it to remove the blonde wig, which she carefully placed on Rylee’s head before brushing it out.

“Adorable.” Amber grinned, taking Rylee to the full length mirror on her closet door. Ariel watched Rylee carefully, noting the spark of light in her eyes as she surveyed herself in the mirror. They’d done a good job on the ensemble, and the dress made it even better. Amber opened the other side of the closet and reached in, presenting Rylee with a pair of shiny black Mary-Janes as she came out. Rylee slid into the shoes, wincing a bit as they were perhaps half a size too small. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Rylee nodded.

“You want to take them off?” Ariel offered. “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” Rylee admitted. “But I like the way they look.”

“I don’t get how you’re so much smaller than me but still have a bigger foot.” Amber looked down at the shoes.

“I’m not that much smaller,” Rylee smirked; she was more confident, all of a sudden. Far more so than when they’d walked into the house hours before. That was probably about to come crashing down.

“You…are,” Amber told her. “The dress is a little loose on you and it shouldn’t be.”

“Which is why we should get downstairs for dinner,” Ariel pointed out. “What’s your mom making again?”

“Grilled chicken, Caesar salad, mashed potatoes,” Amber said, thinking hard. “Probably dessert too.”

“Yeah, let me take this off,” Rylee said in resignation; the look on her face was familiar to Ariel. Rylee was always happiest when she was dressed as herself, but eventually it all had to come off; the girl beneath had to return beneath, and the male mask would always return. More than once, Ariel had seen her sister collapse in a puddle of tears as every ounce of her being was suppressed by the societal expectations that had erected a wall of expectation around her. It was for this reason that Ariel was happy to take her sister’s hand, squeezing it as it reached up toward the wig, ready to pull it off. Rylee looked at her, questioningly.

“Not today, Rylee,” Ariel said in a hushed tone, offering a warm smile. “Do you trust me?”

Rylee froze as she slowly began to recognize the meaning behind her sister’s words. Ariel asked it again.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Rylee said finally, trembling as Ariel drew her into a hug.

“You’re beautiful,” Ariel whispered as they embraced. “Don’t forget that.”

Rylee felt unable to give any answer other than her quickened, sharp breaths as Ariel released her from the hug and softly took her hand, leading her toward the door.

“Are you sure?” Rylee’s voice cracked finally, as they reached the threshold and pulled open the door. She froze, legs stiff as they stood before the empty hallway.

“I love you, Rylee,” Ariel said in response. “I would never hurt you.”

Rylee gulped. The words that Ariel had spoken were more than a promise; they were a request for trust. Rylee did her best to hold onto that trust, and to keep the tears and the terror at bay as her feet crossed the threshold into the hallway. She felt wrong, all of a sudden; when she’d looked into the mirror a moment ago she’d seen a girl – the girl that lived right beneath her skin. The girl that screamed and cried, pounding on the walls of her flesh prison, begging to be seen, begging to exist somewhere other than behind the eyes of a hurt, broken boy. Now, as the world expanded from Amber’s bedroom, to the hallway and the rest of the house beyond, she felt clumsy, she felt stupid, she felt like a boy wearing a dress. She felt afraid. She drifted helplessly in a sea of uncertainty, her only anchor being that of Ariel’s arm, her only beacon being her sister’s soft, reassuring smile and her promise that everything would be okay. She had no choice but to trust.

The girl that Ariel led down the hallway, one step at a time, was a fragile one; made of glass, ready to shatter at the slightest touch. She oh-so-carefully brought her down the stairs, one step at a time; a journey that was far too quick for Rylee. Then it was over, they had cleared the stairs, and Ariel offered her sister another quick smile as she felt her tremble at the start of the foyer.

“Rylee, sis, I have you,” Ariel said, squeezing her sister’s hand again. To Rylee, the archway to the living room ahead might as well have been a portal to hell. Ariel easily recognized that look in her sister’s eyes; the instinct to run was there; she gripped her hand and gave her as comforting a smile as she could muster. “I always wanted a little sister,” Ariel said softly. “And you’re more than I ever dreamed of, so tonight, just be Rylee, okay?”

“Okay,” Rylee said shakily after a moment’s hesitation, nodding. “Okay.”

Ariel smiled again and led her across the threshold.

---

Rylee’s breath vacated her body as she walked across the threshold into the common room. The living room and Leo on her right, Amber’s mother and younger sister in the kitchen to her left. She became hyper aware of everything in that moment: the low hum of the television, the clicking of Mrs. Baker’s knife against the cutting board, the sizzling of the oven. Even the air around her seemed to have taken on an oppressive quality; she stood there in the midst of everyone, beneath the white-hot spot lighting. She felt exposed, open, as if she’d been peeled like a fruit and left to rot. As her body tensed, she looked to Ariel and only Ariel, trying to block out the rest of the world as her sister gave her an encouraging smile.

“Everyone,” Ariel said happily but with a hint of apprehension in her tone. “I’d like you to meet my little sister, Rylee.”

Rylee was nearly ready to leap out of her body, or at least run from the room screaming in the face of the physical impossibility of the former, but it was Amanda who spoke first. The paring knife in her hand clattered to the cutting board and she strode from the kitchen, dressed in a black and white tunic top, scoop necked and tied at the back along with a pair of tight-fitting black slacks. She, like Amber, had long black hair and a slender build; her face was pale and cheeks dotted with pale pink freckles. She was only thirteen, a few years younger than Rylee, and that age was reflected in her somewhat innocent features. She stepped out in front of Rylee and offered a warm smile.

“Hi Rylee,” Amanda said, grinning from ear to ear. “Amber’s told me all about you.”

Rylee’s eyes widened, and it looked as if she might collapse; Ariel maintained a tight grip on her hand.

“Breathe, Rylee,” Ariel said quietly. “You’re all right.”

“This dress!” Amanda nearly squealed as she touched the chiffon material of Rylee’s skirt. “Amber, you never wear this anymore!”

“Not my style,” Amber remarked. “Rylee, you can have that.”

“I’ll put it on your side of the closet.” Ariel released Rylee’s hand for a moment to give her a light, playful shove. Rylee looked at her, still wide-eyed, as if she were trying to comprehend the situation before her.

“Rylee, can you help Amber set the table?” Linda, Amber’s mother, called out from the kitchen after watching the exchange in silence. Ariel grinned to Rylee.

“Being the younger sister means getting stuck with the crap jobs,” Ariel stuck her tongue out. Rylee looked from her, back to Amanda, and then to Amber, who gave her a prodding glance and a gesture toward the dining room table. Rylee, rather suddenly, broke out into a nervous grin; Amber laughed and took her hand, leading her toward the kitchen to retrieve plates and silverware.

“See?” Amber gave Ariel her patented ‘I told you so’ look. Ariel rolled her eyes.

“We could have told her.”

“Because telling her stuff works so well,” Amber pointed out. “You just wanted to give her a reason to freak out on the ride over here.”

Ariel pursed her lips in contemplation, considering Amber’s words. Yes, Rylee did tend to make a big deal out of things, but on the other hand this wasn’t exactly an inconsequential situation. Forcing her headlong into situations where her identity and secret would be revealed seemed bad, but so far it hadn’t yielded bad results. Ultimately, though, it seemed that they were in uncharted, untested waters where Rylee was concerned, so what was really right, and what was wrong?

As acidic thoughts burned at her mind, Ariel’s gazed shifted to the dining room, where Rylee was now helping Amanda to set the table. Rylee had broken out into a nervous grin as Amanda whispered in her ear. Somehow here, tonight, they’d managed to give Rylee a chance to be herself at least for a few hours. It had all been arranged a few weeks ago; Amber had spoken to her mother, who seemed more than amenable to treating Rylee as a girl for at least the night, given that her husband would be out of town.

“I can’t do this all the time,” Linda had warned. “But one night isn’t going to hurt anything.”
The whispers of the past faded and Ariel threw a glance to the sliding glass door, beyond which the porch was covered in an ever-increasing layer of white powdery snow.

“Leo!” Amber spoke to her brother, breaking Ariel from her trance. “Ariel wants to go to Woodcrest next year, what’s it like?”

“You know what it’s like.” Leo rolled his eyes at her, shaking his head. “I took you there, remember?”

“You didn’t take me.” Ariel crossed her arms and gave a mocking, mostly insincere glare.

“What are you wanting to major in?” Leo frowned, sitting back on the couch. “They have comp sci stuff, anthropology, arts, but they kind of suck when it comes to law.”

“Art, obviously,” Amber smirked. “Haven’t you seen her drawings?”

“Look, Amber,” Leo said. “I don’t know your friends, okay? I don’t know what all they’re into.”

“Actually, um…” Ariel cut in, drawing the attention of both Amber and Leo. “I kind of have a…well, something to tell you. Mister Reinhart, at school--”

“The art teacher,” Amber phrased her question as a statement.

“The art teacher,” Ariel confirmed, nodding.

“The one that smells like erasers?” Amber tilted her head, feigning that she didn’t remember.

“Amber!” Ariel nearly shrieked. “I’m trying to tell you something!”

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Amber snorted. “Tell us what ‘eraser-man’ said.”

“He had me apply for that art scholarship a few months ago,” Ariel reminded her. “I didn’t think I did it, but…I did. It’s a partial scholarship and…I can apply for a grant for the rest. I…qualify, I definitely qualify so…after I graduate…”

“Holy shit, Ariel, that’s amazing!” Amber could barely contain her excitement; she broke out into a grin and clasped her hands together. “You get to get away from all this!”

“Yeah, but…” Ariel cast a glance back to Rylee. “What about her?”

“I can watch out for her,” Amber shrugged. “Me and Amanda. Amanda’s closer to her age, so it might be better that way.”

“It won’t be the same,” Ariel argued. “And your mom said--”

“Look, isn’t it your dream, to be some big shot artist? Like, didn’t you want to paint on walls or something?” Amber watched Ariel adamantly, tilting her head forward slightly to stare her down.

“Murals,” Ariel corrected her. “I want to paint murals. And yeah, it’s a dream, but what if something happens to her?”

“Woodcrest is three hours away,” Amber reminded her. “It’s not like you can’t come home on weekends.”

“This is all just…unbelievable,” Ariel remarked, looking from Leo, to Amber, then back to Rylee again for a moment. “It’s like…yesterday we were in middle school and braiding each other’s hair…now…”

“We can still braid each other’s hair,” Amber assured her. “Things change. We grew up, we’re getting ready to graduate, your brother’s a girl, things happen, okay? You have to take care of yourself, and getting out of here? It’s going to be good for you.”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with here.” Leo gestured broadly to to the house around them. “But Amber’s told me about your parents.”

“Yeah,” Ariel nodded. “My parents.”

“Ariel.” Amber’s mom, Linda, interrupted their conversation as she strode smoothly across the room from the kitchen. She was underdressed compared to the rest of them in a light blue robe atop a t-shirt and cotton pajama pants that matched the robe. Her long black hair was brushed to one side, the length of it hanging over her left shoulder, frayed ends dancing against the fabric of her robe; she cast a quick glance back to Rylee, then gestured over toward the table as she spoke to Ariel. “What’s going on over there?”

Ariel peered past Linda, toward the kitchen where Rylee and Amanda were now talking excitedly, laughing, and making hot chocolate from white Swiss Miss packets. Amanda whispered something to Rylee; she doubled over with laughter, a wide, happy grin on her face as her eyes lit up.

“What do you mean?” Ariel looked to Linda now, frowning. “They’re making hot chocolate. Um, for everyone, I hope. Do you have marshmallows?”

“I’ve met your brother a few times,” Linda told her, casting a wary and incredulous glance over to the kitchen. “He walks around like a zombie, barely talks to anyone, seems irritated all the time. That person over there is…it’s not the same person, Ariel. That person is happy and full of life, even if he…she’s a little nervous.”

“Scared to death,” Amber corrected, glancing over.

“Scared to death,” Ariel agreed. “Her hands are shaking.”

“Okay, but still.” Linda gestured broadly to the kitchen area.

“It’s one of the reasons I do this with her,” Ariel admitted. “It was awkward at first, and she…was scared of me, like really scared, but seeing her come to life? That’s the best part.”

“And what’s the worst part?” Linda asked.

“Seeing that light in her eyes go away when she has to change back” Ariel said, grimly. “I wish I could have her like this all the time.”

“Eventually,” Amber said encouragingly. “You won’t live with your parents forever.”

“Woodcrest has a couple of girls like her,” Leo said helpfully. “When I was going to school here…I never would have even thought about it. College does weird things to people, though. They’re away from home, suddenly they can be whoever they want to be. It’s kind of cool.”

“She’s sixteen,” Amber reminded Ariel. “In two years, you could have your sister full time.”

“This is so sad,” Linda said, casting another glance toward the kitchen. “She…seems so happy. I wish there were something I could do, I wish…she and Amanda went to the same school. I would have her over more, but Ron wouldn’t react well to this whole thing. He barely tolerates his brother doing the whole transition thing.”

“There’s nothing you can do.” Ariel shook her head. “But what we can do, right now, is give her a good night.”

“Right,” Amber agreed, nodding. “We can have dinner, watch a movie, let her be herself. Let her experience being with a real family. Look how happy she is.”

“And when it’s over, she has to go back to being that sad boy, at home, with…your parents.” Linda looked over to Ariel, who pursed her lips and gave a sad, resigned shrug. “That’s…wrong. She…”

“If you really want to help,” Ariel told her, “just keep the secret.”

---

March 2001

“Ariel, you okay?” Brian poked her, breaking her out of a deep trance as the bell for next period sounded. Ariel looked up from her desk wearily, her head heavy and her eyes stinging as she slowly managed to look over at Brian, who prodded her with his eyes. “Not getting enough sleep, huh?”

“Yeah, something like that,” Ariel muttered. “Do you have notes I can borrow?”

“Yeah, we’ll uh…make a copy or something.” Brian nodded as he handed a stack of loose leaf papers, notes printed neatly on them with bullet points and numbers, all in blue ink. Ariel looked around as the last of the students began filing out of the classroom. She looked back to Brian, who remained seated as he shuffled papers into a black Trapper Keeper and silently mouthed something to himself. He was kind of a typical jock; short hair, medium build, dressed in a purple and yellow Lakers jersey. They’d been friends for a while; not best friends, just friends, to use the term loosely. Ariel had found, lately, that close friends were something she couldn’t afford with the number of secrets she was harboring.

“Thanks,” Ariel said, her tone tight as she accepted the papers. “Alright, I’ve gotta go.”

“Hey,” Brian cut in as she zipped her own binder and began to rise from the seat. “I was thinking, for homecoming-”

“I don’t really have time,” Ariel said quickly. “Besides, dancing? Frilly dresses? Not really my thing.”

“So wear pants,” Brian suggested. “Or you wear the tux and I’ll wear the dress.”

It took everything Ariel had within her not to snort and then burst into laughter.

“You know what, I’ll think about it,” Ariel laughed. “No promises.”

“No promises,” Brian repeated. “It’s better than a no.”

Ariel left the classroom with a partial smile on her face and her books pressed to her stomach as she walked down the hall, following the throng of students toward the next class. She walked absentmindedly down the cramped hall, past red and white lockers and across a black and white checkered floor. The sound of her footsteps were drowned out by bother her own thoughts and the loud conversations of the students all around her, but all was quiet in her head as she thought on one thing: Why not Brian? There was nothing wrong with him; he was interested, and he was cute!

She answered her own question as she focused her attention on a group of girls that had gravitated toward one of the lockers; picture perfect girls dressed to the nines and chattering amongst themselves. Her attention shifted to another group, a more athletic one, volleyball players, she thought. So many cliques, so many groups, none of which she could belong to.

Why couldn’t she? There was nothing wrong with her; she was physically fit, she could play volleyball, she could be a cheerleader, she could fit in seamlessly with everyone else instead of remaining the nomad that she’d become. But, no, she couldn’t, could she?

She seemed to be caught between three different worlds; the world her parents wanted her to join, the world the school and its social situation was offering, and then her sister’s world. Her little, secret, unseen sister. Here in the hallway, amongst the different groups huddled about the lockers, bulletin boards, and trophy cases, were samples of the life she could have, but the pull of the responsibility toward her sister kept her from fully embracing any of them. Of course, there was Amber’s idea. Her stupid, stupid idea.

“You’re trying to teach her to be a girl, like a real, passable girl, but you can’t. You don’t have the time. But I have an idea,” was what Amber had said to her. A woman named Hayley, someone who was like Rylee. Someone who could help Rylee. It seemed so promising, but so dangerous. Bringing Amber’s mom, sister, and brother in on the secret had been risky enough, but a total stranger? Someone who could bring all of it crashing down? It seemed absurd.

Hayley. The woman’s name was Hayley.

Someone like Rylee.

The sentiment echoed in her mind as she made her way down the hall, the buzz of student conversation dwindling behind her with each twist and turn until she finally came to the intersection of the admin office and the two building exits. If she turned left she would head to the cafeteria, and if she turned right she would find herself in the parking lot. She stood there in the center, eyes closed breaths even as panic began to rise in her chest.

Fuck. Why couldn’t things just be normal? If Rylee was supposed to be a girl, why couldn’t she have just been born that way? Or better yet, why couldn’t she have ended up in a family that wasn’t a shitstain on society?

Too much.

Too much for her to be worrying about.

“Ariel!” a familiar voice called out, dragging her from the depths of her panic attack. She opened her eyes to see Mr. Hammond, the guidance counselor, standing half-in and half out of the admin office, beckoning to her. “Hey, Woodcrest sent a response, come on in!”

Shoving her feelings deep down where they belonged, she walked across the intersection toward Mr. Hammon, who enthusiastically waved her in.

“I just have a few minutes before class,” she said apprehensively as they walked down a brief hallway lined with green cinderblocks and took a right into a cramped office, nearly devoid of any personal touches Mr. Hammond could have placed on it.

“I can write you a pass.” Mr. Hammond waved dismissively as he took a seat behind his desk and motioned for Ariel to sit. “You’re not going to believe this; when I helped you fill out that scholarship application, I was expecting maybe a partial, but they want to pay for the whole thing.”

“The…whole thing?” Ariel gulped, then frowned. “What do you mean the whole thing?”

“I mean you’ve got a free ride,” Mr. Hammond shrugged. “What can I say? You deserve it.”

“H-how is that possible?” Ariel asked in utter shock. “Don’t tons of people apply for these scholarships? Like, why am I special?”

“Obviously they liked your portfolio,” Mr. Hammond said, playing the whole thing off as if it were no big deal. “The FFA business cards you did last year were pretty useful to Mrs. Quinn, and of course the art you did for that tech presentation. The one they did in Macromedia?”

“I mean…yeah…” Ariel stammered. “But I didn’t think…wow. This is…amazing, actually.”

“You have a few majors you can choose from, obviously,” Mr. Hammond reached into his upper left desk drawer and removed a smooth manilla envelope, which he passed across the desk to Ariel. “Take your time, figure it out; you’ve still got plenty of time before graduation.”

Ariel sat back and thought about it for a moment as she held the envelope in her hands. It wasn’t very thick; she turned it over in her hands, speculating at the contents. It was everything she wanted – a free ride to Woodcrest, an arts degree and most importantly, a way to get the hell out of here. But what about Rylee?

She pushed the thoughts aside, shaking her head subtly. Rylee would figure it out; the girl had existed since long before Ariel, and if all else failed, she could teach her little sister a bit more before she left for Woodcrest. It would all be fine, and then, eventually, they could move in together. It would all work out.

“If I…decide to do it,” Ariel said, almost a little too slowly as she mulled over the thought. “What…I mean, what would I do next?”

“You can start by taking a tour of Woodcrest,” Mr. Hammon suggested. “They have one coming up in the spring; you can talk to admissions while you’re there.”

“Sorry um…” Ariel stammered, clearing her throat and staring down at the packet now in her hands. “I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful, Mr. Hammond, I really, really appreciate this opportunity and--”

“Ariel, it’s a lot, I know,” Mr. Hammond assured her. “Take your time, you have plenty of it, okay?”

“Okay,” Ariel nodded her head vigorously, shifting her weight in the chair. “I will, thank you. Thank you so much.”

---

April 2001

She walked up an unfamiliar gravel driveway toward an unfamiliar house on a hill she’d never been to. All she had to go on was a phone call, a few cryptic e-mails, and a name: Hayley. For weeks, unbeknownst to Ariel, Amber had been talking to this woman, telling her all about Rylee. Ariel had been furious at first, but now she was simply annoyed. Sure, Amber thought that this ‘Hayley’ person could help them, to get a better handle on the Rylee situation, but Ariel was certain that couldn’t be right. Rylee’s situation was…odd, to put it lightly. How could anyone outside of her and Amber truly understand? The experiment with Amber’s mother, sister, and brother had gone fairly well, but it had been a safe environment and Ariel really didn’t want to take it much further than that. Still…

The house was a fresh construction, two stories set against the rural North Carolina landscape. Ariel had driven about forty minutes to get here, following instructions provided in their last e-mail interaction and now she hesitated before knocking on the wooden door, peering momentarily through the oval window to see inside. Even squinting, she couldn’t see much, so she let out an inaudible sigh and rapped her knuckles against the wood. Once. Twice. Three times.

She waited perhaps a few seconds before making the decision to turn and leave; no one was coming, this was all a mistake. As she made the motion to turn away and head back down the porch stairs, there was a loud click and the front door swung open. Standing there was a woman, perhaps in her mid to late thirties; dark chestnut brown hair that hung loosely about her shoulders and gorgeous features that made Ariel question whether or not she had the right house. This woman was supposed to be like Rylee, and Rylee, while pretty damn feminine, didn’t look that good. Her doubts, however, were assuaged slightly as the woman spoke in a soft, welcoming tone.

“Ariel, I assume?” She smiled and tilted her head slightly, putting Ariel at ease – at least a little.

“Um…yes, yes, Ma’am,” Ariel nodded. “I um…did I get here too early? I know it’s not one-thirty--”

“Nonsense,” the woman said, shaking her head and motioning for Ariel to come in. “My name is Hayley, my students call me Mrs. Gamble--”

“Students?” Ariel asked, curiously as they passed through a wood-paneled foyer and took a left, into a large sitting room filled with picture windows and natural lighting that illuminated a green couch, recliner, several rocking chairs, and a wood and glass coffee table.

“I’m a music teacher, actually,” Hayley said. “Over at the Woodhaven Auditorium. Have you been there?”

“I…have, actually,” Ariel said surprised, sitting on the couch at Hayley’s direction. Hayley took a seat across from her on a chair, folding her hands onto her lap. “My class went there on a field trip, actually. Um…we saw The Nutcracker.”

“Oh yes, that would have been a few years ago,” Hayley nodded. “What did you think of it?”

“I um…” Ariel struggled to think of something, anything to say about it. “I liked the costumes.”

“Didn’t understand a bit of it, did you?” Hayley chuckled.

“Rylee’s into musicals, the ones she’s been able to see, anyway,” Ariel admitted. “I’m kind of an artist, but…I wasn’t never good with musicals. I was in my school choir though, for a bit. We did ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’.”

“Could you tell me a little bit about your sister?” Hayley asked, getting right to the point. Ariel swallowed.

“Actually, um…I was wondering if I could ask some questions about you.” Ariel turned the conversation to Haylee, who nodded with understanding.

“Of course,” Hayley nodded. “I’m a stranger, someone you met on the Internet, and now I expect you to tell me all about your little sister. Very well, Ariel. My name is Hayley Gamble, but obviously I wasn’t born Hayley Gamble.”

“Actually yeah, that was one of my questions,” Ariel interjected. “You said you were like Rylee--”

“Did I?” Hayle raised an eyebrow; Ariel fidgeted in her seat.

“Amber said you were like Rylee,” Ariel corrected.

“If your sister is transgender, then we have that in common,” Hayley agreed. “But you will find that I am my own person, with my own wants, desires, and dreams.”

“I…understand that,” Ariel shifted in her seat again. “It’s just…you don’t look like her. I mean, we dress Rylee up all the time, we do the best we can, but it’s never perfect. You…you’re…”

“I’ve had a number of procedures done, my dear,” Hayley explained. “I transitioned in the late eighties with the help of an organization that had ample resources. My experience is not typical.
Still, regardless of how ‘easy’ my transition was, there was still the emotional toll, and to be quite frank with you? I suffered.”

“Suffered?”

“I don’t need to tell you the emotional toll transition can take,” Hayley said, very matter of factly. “You see it in your sister, don’t you? Yes, transition can provide answers, but it also raises questions. ‘Who am I?’ or ‘Is this really the answer?’ Then of course the endless question of ‘why’? Why me? Why this? Why did God do this to me? If you believe in God, that is. Your sister is going through more than she’s telling you because she likely can’t formulate the words to tell you. But you are listening, so that’s a good first step.”

“I…I guess my big question is…how can you help my sister, exactly?” Ariel took a deep breath, crossing her legs as her eyes darted around, exploring the room nervously.

“If your sister is transgender, then she’s looking at a hard life,” Hayley said quietly. “It’s not just dresses and makeup, or voice training, or any of the other things you’ve come across. You have to take her mental state into consideration; understand that as we speak she likely wants to tear her own skin off. Every moment that she cannot be herself is devastating to her. For you, being a girl comes naturally; for her, it’s going to be an immense struggle and the world isn’t going to make it any easier. You can be there for her, but unless you understand her struggle, you’re just going to hold her while she cries. She needs to learn things that you can’t teach her.”

“And you can help her with that?”

“That depends on a lot of things,” Hayley stated. “First and foremost, it depends on your ability to keep a secret. Rylee is a minor child, and while you and I might understand what’s happening her, the world at large would consider it grooming. You and I can make the argument that we’re saving her life, but most people will not see it that way.”

“I promise you I won’t tell anyone,” Ariel shook her head. “I…wouldn’t do that.”

“Understand, Ariel, that if word of this gets out, I’ll cut both of you off. I’ll deny any part of this, and you two will be on your own. Do I make myself clear?”

Ariel froze, contemplating the implications of everything Hayley had just said. She was right; Rylee needed help, and she was in waters that neither of them seemed to be able to navigate. She could try and try, but in the end, helping Rylee would be nearly impossible. Dressing her up, doing her makeup, treating her like a little sister would only go so far. She had to learn to be a girl in the real world, not just behind closed doors, and with their home life, what the hell was that going to look like in two years?

“I…” Ariel began, closing her eyes, then opening them again. “I’m afraid for her…I…when she grows up…I mean, when she’s old enough to be on her own, is she going to live a normal life? When she’s dressed up, when she gets to be herself, it’s like…um…it’s a breath of fresh air. You don’t understand…well…I mean, maybe you do? When she’s…Ryan, it’s like she’s dead inside and…not really a person you’d want to be around. But when she’s Rylee, she’s different. Her eyes light up, she’s happy, totally different personality. But I…I don’t--”

“Ariel, I assure you, your little sister can live a happy, normal life, it’s just going to take some doing. I can see you’re worried--”

“Worried?’ Ariel said suddenly, frowning as she clenched the fabric of the couch cushion between her balled fists. “Of course I’m fucking worried! Why don’t you stop talking down to me?”

“Ariel--”

“No!” Ariel snapped. “You shut up and listen to me. You’re sitting there talking to me like I’m a child. I’m worried? Yeah, I’m worried!”

Hayley opened her mouth to speak but thought better of it, pursing her lips and leaning back in her chair as Ariel continued.

“I just…I just found out I have a little sister and she could be in serious danger and you’re sitting there acting like I don’t know what I’m talking about!” Ariel was standing now, waving her arms wildly as she aired her pent up frustrations, bottled up for weeks, and now fired in Hayley’s direction. “And what can I do? I can’t do anything! If our parents find out, they might kill her or something, I don’t know. If the wrong people find out, they’ll tell my parents. I’m suffocating, I’m lost, I’m confused, I don’t know what to do--”

“Ariel, sit down!” Hayley said in a commanding tone. Ariel paused, looking at her wide eyed. She looked up, past Hayley and made note of the man, roughly Hayley’s age who had appeared in the doorway. Hayley followed Ariel’s gaze, throwing a glance over her shoulder. “Ariel, this is my husband, Denton.”

“Husband,” Ariel whispered, sinking back onto the couch. The man who crossed the room was built, but seemed to have a gentle nature about him. His hair was a shade of dark red; a well-trimmed beard obscured many of his facial features. He was dressed head toe in denim; a nice button-down denim shirt and a pair of blue jeans to complement a set of leather work boots.

“Ariel, I have a pretty normal life, despite what I have working against me,” Hayley explained. “For most people it comes easy, relatively speaking. Someone like you…you’ll get a job, you’ll probably get married, you’ll get the white picket fence, the dog, probably the two point five children. You’ll probably have a minivan, and you’ll be picking your kids up from soccer practice. Easy stuff, it’s expected of you. If your sister, Rylee wants any semblance of normalcy she’ll have to fight for it every step of the way. She’ll have to manage her appearance, her behavior, she’ll have to become what society expects of her. What you want is peace of mind, Ariel. You want to know that she isn’t going to be dragged out of a bathroom at gunpoint, that she won’t be raped in a back alley or abducted by people who will use her body to turn a profit. You want to be sure that she’ll be treated with dignity and respect by emergency services and by those who work in governmental organizations. The freedoms and assurances that you take for granted will not come naturally to her.”

Though Hayley was only echoing Ariel’s thoughts over the last few months, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of anger. Rylee could do this, and this Hayley person was proof! On the subject of proof, Ariel glanced over to Denton, who had taken a seat on the arm of Hayley’s recliner, resting his hand on her shoulder.

“So, you two are married,” Ariel said; it was more of a question, though phrased like a statement with no upward inflection. “You guys…I mean…it…just works?”

“We met in high school, actually,” Denton said, surprising Ariel. “When she graduated, she went to study abroad, disappeared for a few years, actually, and when she came back…”

“I was a woman,” Hayley shrugged. Denton gave her the widest grin. “And Denton here couldn’t resist my charms. But you see, Ariel, it is possible for your sister to have a normal life, but she’s not just going to stumble into it.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Ariel nodded. “She’s not going to be nearly as lucky as you.”

“Lucky?” Hayley raised an amused eyebrow.

“Well, you went abroad and transitioned,” Ariel shrugged. “And it seems like it went really well for you. Unlike Rylee, who’s stuck in a shitty home with shitty parents and--”

“I had my fair share of difficulties,” Hayley corrected her; on cue, Denton gave her shoulder a squeeze and shot her a gentle, sympathetic smile. “In some ways, maybe it was more difficult than what your little sister is going through, but comparing one trauma to another? That’s not the way to go, Ariel. Remember: what Rylee is going through right now, is the worst she’s ever been though. What I went through, is the worst I’d ever been through. Trauma is relative to the person, Ariel, and the burdens we bear can affect us all in equal amounts, no matter how big, or how small.”

“I never thought about it that way,” Ariel admitted. “I mean…”

“Most people don’t,” Hayley nodded. “But let me give you a more poignant example. Imagine a toddler with a toy; she loves that toy more than anything in the world, and then an adult takes it from her. She cries, she screams, she acts irrationally over a toy. As adults we might look at her and say that the toy didn’t matter; she can always get another one. But to her, it’s nowhere near that simple. She’s never experienced that sort of trauma before. She’s never experienced that kind of loss. Will it get worse down the road? Certainly. She’ll have bigger problems, larger traumas, but right now, all that matters is that toy and the emotions she’s feeling. For Rylee, it will be much the same. She’ll experience larger, darker, more horrifying traumas all of which will warp her perspective, make her jaded, and hurt her deeply.”

“And…you can protect her?” Ariel frowned.

“Heavens no,” Hayley laughed, shaking her head. “Even with everything I could teach her, and tell her, and everything I could do to prepare her, trauma will find a way to manifest itself into her life. The cuts will run deep, Ariel, but how they heal is going to depend upon just how prepared she is.”

Silence fell over the room as Ariel contemplated Hayley’s words. She thought it over, and over as the quiet grew between them. For a long moment, the only sound seemed to be the ticking of a clock somewhere far off in the house. Finally, Ariel looked up to Hayley, who waited patiently.

“What do we do?” Ariel asked, her voice conveying a sense of defeat. She could swear she saw the edges of a smile tugging at Hayey’s dark lips.

“Now,” Hayley said, leaning back and folding her hands in anticipation. “You tell me everything about Rylee. Leave nothing out.”

---

Bob Dylan sang something about Heaven’s Door as Ariel sat in her blue Charger outside Woodhaven Auditorium. It was a Saturday; the lot was nearly empty, and the sun beat down on the blacktop, creating a noticeable aura of heat that refused to relent. A bead of sweat slid down Ariel’s brow as her eyes fixated on the orange ‘check engine’ light, fading in and out of focus as her thoughts drifted.

Woodhaven Auditorium. The place where Hayley worked as a musical director. The place where they’d agreed to ‘teach’ Rylee the ins and outs of womanhood. There had been so much to it, as Ariel had learned from Hayley. Everything from learning to walk, talk, subtle movements, voice inflections, vocabulary, presentation, all of it played a role, and they were things that Ariel had never even thought about until now.

“These are things that young ladies learn from birth,” Hayley had told her. “To you, being a woman is as natural as breathing. For Rylee, it all must be learned.”

Imagine being taught to breathe.

Her purse weighed heavily against her, digging into the crook of her shoulder during her brief sojourn across the parking lot. Past a parked car, a light pole, an oval mulch bed with three trees, and finally to the front of Woodhaven auditorium. This was nothing new; she’d been here a few times already. Rylee had been relatively opposed to the idea at first, even if she hadn’t said much, but the one thing she was learning was that her protests would generally fall on deaf ears.

Ariel passed through a large lobby area with gray-carpeted floors, past a white staircase set into the wall, and around the bend of the oval-shaped interior. Overhead, natural light streamed through rectangular plate glass windows set around the top of the outer wall, creating light rectangular patches that reflected her shadow en route to the basement.

Her next turn was to the right, down a brief passageway that came to an intersection and the inner ring of the auditorium. Another right took her through a metal door and down a set of concrete stairs flanked on either side by a tubular metal handrail. The descent into the Woodhaven Auditorium basement was a stark contrast to the rest of the building and it became even more so as she stepped into the cinderblock hallway, a sense of dampness in the air supported by a line of copper pipes running the length of the ceiling. It was a short walk past electrical boxes and caged incandescent lights to the third door on the right, through which was Hayley’s other rehearsal room.

It was behind an unremarkable metal door across from a section of chain link fence that cordoned off a large emergency generator; Ariel turned away from the fence and pushed open the door, squinting momentarily as she stepped into the light. Hayley’s rehearsal room was much the same as you’d expect to find in a choir room at a high school; it was roughly as large, but it was cluttered as all hell. Racks of costumes to the left, a messy desk shoved against the wall, instruments here and there, seemingly discarded and forgotten at some point.

Across the room, Hayley had Rylee in a simple blue button-down shirt and a black, knee-length skirt. They seemed to be in the middle of one of Hayley’s drills where Rylee would straighten her skirt, sit, and then stand again. It was repetitive by nature, but Hayley had insisted that Rylee learn to ‘move like a woman’; whatever the hell that was supposed to mean. Walking, sitting, standing, running, apparently all of it was different, and Hayley had spoken similarly to Ariel regarding learned behaviors.

Getting Rylee in front of Hayley in the first place had had its challenges, but after that, it was all downhill. Their parents had jumped at the prospect of Rylee learning mandolin, especially for free, and as such, the first thirty minutes of these sessions was dedicated to teaching Rylee just enough of the instrument to be passable at home. What she didn’t realize was that she’d started to become good at it.

Hayley began to wrap the lesson up as she saw Ariel approaching, and Ariel took a moment to look Rylee over. Hayley’s outfit for her today was extremely simple; she’d never really gone all out on the clothing aspect of this. Rather, she seemed to be interested in teaching etiquette, behavior, and movement. Fortunately for Ariel, she’d been curating Rylee’s closet at home, meaning she was able to see her in a variety of outfits, including a few of her old prom dresses.

All seemed to be going well, which was why Ariel was caught slightly offguard by Rylee’s statement as they all sat together on the couches.

“Why are we doing this?” Rylee spoke up suddenly, prompting a look of surprise from both. “I mean, what’s the point?”

“Rylee…” Ariel said, a hint of warning tainting her voice.

“No, why?” Rylee demanded. “I’m allowed to ask questions at the end, right.”
“That’s correct, Rylee,” Hayley confirmed. “Though it’s more intended for transition-related questions.”

“What transition?” Rylee asked suddenly, looking from Hayley to Ariel. “Look at me. Look at me! I look fine now, but at the end of the session the makeup comes off, the pants go on and I’m him again! We’re not working toward anything! I’m not taking those fancy red pills you have, I’m not becoming a girl! I’m just coming to your stupid basement to play dress-up; I get to be happy for a little bit, and then I’m back to nothing! I’m nothing! I’ll always be nothing!”

“Rylee, please!” Ariel scolded, but Hayley raised her hand, requesting silence.

“Rylee, your feelings are valid. I remember, very vividly, having those same feelings when I was a teenager in the seventies. My home life…wasn’t dissimilar to yours. A father with a temper, an overbearing mother, a church community that operated as a High Control group and exerted its will on its members. That’s why you’re here, Rylee. I see myself in you. I can see you’re afraid, I can see you’re sad, and I surely understand what you’re feeling. But it does end. It’s going to hurt now, badly, I won’t lie to you, and when it’s over you’re going to need years of therapy to come to terms with what happened to you, but you can come out on the other side as a relatively normal, well-adjusted person. However…”

“However?” Ariel gawked at Hayley, her expression dangerously close to morphing into a glare. What the hell could she possibly mean? What else could her sister be, besides normal and adjusted? She grimaced as a thousand possibilities came to her mind in response to that question.

“However, Rylee...” Hayley turned her attention from Ariel to Rylee, looking at her sharply. “You made a promise two weeks ago, on this very couch, that you wouldn’t hurt yourself anymore. You’ve broken that promise, haven’t you?”

“Rylee?” She spoke that single word, her sister’s name, but the tone and inflection conveyed a million-and-one questions. Rylee looked back at her, her eyes briefly twitching in Hayley’s direction, and then back to Ariel. She squirmed in her seat, her mind racing to come up with a counter to Hayley’s claims. Hayley couldn’t know, after all. She hadn’t pulled her sleeve up, she hadn’t seen the fresh cuts, the barely formed scars. But all she had to do was walk over and check, right? She’d probably seen the way Rylee had grimaced with nearly every move, how she’d winced when she’d released tension on her arm when she stopped supporting the neck of the mandolin. Hayley had taught her nearly everything there was to know about body language, so why did she expect that she’d be able to hide anything from her? God, she was so stupid. Even so, her silence over the last several seconds had been enough, and Ariel cursed under her breath.

“Rylee, I’ve told you many times that if you’re hurting, you come to me, you go to your sister, you don’t self-harm. I also told you that if you continued to hurt yourself, I would be forced to take action. I cannot sit by while you mutilate yourself! This is unfortunate, but--”

“Wait,” Ariel spoke up quickly, her voice cracking as she did so. Hayley swiveled her head, doing her best not to contort her stoic, concerned expression into a glare as she regarded a now nearly-frantic Ariel. “You can’t call CPS. They’ll separate us. You know what’ll happen! She’ll go to some shitty foster home, or a group home, they won’t let her be herself or…she’ll get hurt. They’ll hurt her! You can’t do that to us!”

“You’ll be separated anyway,” Hayley pointed out. “You’re going off to college next year, aren’t you?”

“I don’t have to,” Ariel said without hesitation. “In fact, I won’t.”

“Let me try to understand this,” Hayley said, raising one eyebrow. “You’re going to throw away your entire career just to--”

“Oh, fuck off, I can always go later,” Ariel suddenly snapped, her temper lost. “Do you think I’d rather see my sister in a casket?”

“And you’re sure about this? Your parents will go along with it?”

“My parents!” Ariel suddenly laughed. “Mrs. Gamble, those people stopped being my parents when I stopped being afraid of them. It’s me, and it’s Rylee. That’s it. I’ll protect her. It’s what big sisters do.”

“I’m going to choose to give you the benefit of the doubt,” Hayley said, finally. “If only because I agree with you. I don’t want to see you two split up, but you need to give me your word now that you won’t leave for college until your little sister leaves.”

“Yes, fine, you have my word,” Ariel agreed.

“I’m increasing the frequency of these lessons. We’ll switch to three days a week; I’ll speak with your parents. Rylee, pack up your instrument.”

---

Surrounded by teachers and students, Ariel stood alone in the hallway of Woodhaven High. The previous year she’d been interested in extracurriculars; she’d even wanted to join choir. The hallways were plastered with fliers from different clubs, including the prom committee; streamers and pamphlets, all beckoning to a life that Ariel had left behind.

Moments ago she’d emerged from Mr. Hammond’s office, the look of disappointment following her even as she sped away from the threshold and into the hall. She’d told him that she ‘appreciated the offer’, but that she’d have to pass. She made an excuse about putting off school for another year, about ‘finding herself’. That was a load of bullshit, wasn’t it? She wasn’t trying to ‘find herself’, she was trying to help Rylee find herself! It was a job she hadn’t wanted, but it was what she got. She’d taken up the mantle that no one else would, that no one else could.

In that vein, she found herself cursing her parents a lot more than usual lately. In some ways she couldn’t blame them; they had no way of knowing that Rylee existed, but if they did know, their immediate instinct wouldn’t be to help her. Ariel had done her research as she tried to uncover the truth of Rylee; she’d found the stories of children just like Rylee who had been sent to conversion therapy, whether it was a traditional setting, or done under the guise of a summer camp, the latter of which could be far more traumatizing. She had seen her little sister, and she couldn’t abide the thought of her coming back from one of those camps, that dead look in her eyes, the robotic movements, the lack of self that her parents would undoubtedly perceive as more viable than the alternative. Still, it wasn’t her responsibility.

It wasn’t her responsibility.

She pushed forward through the hallway, step after lonely step until she emerged into the common area; a wide open space marked with carpet rather than the black and white tile found throughout the school; probably an effort at noise reduction. Round tables dotted the area, and only a few were in use right now. Too early in the morning.

She was standing there, across the quad, nearly hidden in the shadow of a locker. For the last few years, Ryan had taken to wearing a thin flannel jacket over a gray t-shirt. The same outfit every day. Every single day, like a goddamn cartoon character. That, in part, was why she reveled in forcing Rylee from her comfort zone, making her wear colorful outfits and different cut blouses – at least that was something she could enjoy.

They locked eyes for a moment, and then Ryan faded back into the shadows. They never talked at school; they had to keep up that cover of sibling rivalry. Even more so, Ariel had to keep up the cover of finding her little brother annoying. That, of course, was becoming less and less of a cover as she watched her future slip away.

Whatever future she had left was now intertwined with Rylee’s. Utter bullshit, and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

She pushed the resentment deep down and made her way through the commons, past the floating wall of yellow lockers where Ryan had stood just moments ago. He’d scurried off now, probably toward his next class; the buzz of the period-ending bell sounded overhead and followed her as she walked slowly down the hall. The biology room was on the right, the art room directly beside it alongside a deep hallway that led to the building’s outer wall.

The inside of the art room bore a stark contrast to the rest of the school; black and white linoleum gave way to rough concrete floors flanked by dull gray walls, invisible now with the canvas boards and white drawing sheets etched and colored with soft lead. The room was empty this time of the day; art class didn’t start until the afternoon, so she stood there, staring at the art on display. Lots of art was created here in this room, but some of the drawings, the special ones, were put on display. She recognized a few of the drawings as her own; one of the first things they’d learned in art class was basic shapes, then shading, then three dimensional objects. Drawing a house, specifically your own house was an art class ‘rite of passage’ and she’d done it at least a few times. Many of her first attempts had been carelessly crumpled up and tossed into the waste bin, but she could see one now, suspended on a piece of thin wire that had been suspended from the top of a barely-used chalkboard. A dozen other drawings were there too, but this one stood out to her: their house.

It wasn’t a traditional home, more of a manufactured home that had been plopped down on a foundation and added onto later. Mom and Dad had done some work on it in those early days, back when Ryan…no…when Rylee had been three and she’d been five. She could still remember Mom and Dad up on the roof, fixing some kind of sealant issue. Ryan…no, Rylee. She had to stop thinking of her as Ryan. She had to. Rylee had climbed up a metal extension ladder and ended up there on the roof with them. Ever the avid explorer, it was the first time she’d invoked the rage of her father and it was all Ariel could think of as she stared at the drawing. The yard. The porch. The windows into hers and Rylee’s rooms. All of it there in vivid detail as she’d drawn it; the place that had destroyed her dreams in more ways than one.

The rage rippled, then surged, enrapturing her muscles, her bones, her conscious thoughts as she snatched the sheet from the wire, hearing it tear as she pulled it free of the pins holding it. It took a minimal amount of effort for her to tear it in half, then again, and again, and again. Sweat formed on her brow; she breathed heavily, nearly hyperventilating as she gave into the rage, turning to grab another drawing. It wasn’t hers of course; she didn’t know whose it was, but it didn’t matter. It. Didn’t. Matter.

She tore the drawing, then another, then another. She ripped, she tore, she smashed, she screamed. Shreds and ribbons of artwork, most of which wasn’t hers, sat in a pile at her feet, drawing paper seasoned with a mixture of soft lead and her own tears. She tore, and tore, and when she’d run out of drawings, she turned to the more physical art. Ceramic cups and plates that had been baked in the classroom’s kiln and painted, paper mache creations, other modern art that her classmates had been proud of and the teacher had thought good enough to display. She smashed, she cried, she smashed some more.

When all was done, she sat there in a pile of debris, head in hands as she sobbed uncontrollably.

“Fuck,” she whispered to herself. “Fuck!”