My heart beats faster at the breathtaking sight of the ballerina effortlessly performing her steps. From the tiara pinned to her blonde hair, through her beautiful, embellished tutu and soft pink tights to her shiny satin pointe shoes, she is the very image of grace, elegance and femininity. As I watch her dance in the mirror, I actually have to remind myself that the ballerina… Is me.

Today is Friday the 12th of May 2017, and exactly fourteen years ago, a baby boy was born. Today, that ‘boy’ woke up and pulled on a pair of thick grey tights, a pleated grey skirt and a soft white blouse, before swallowing a pill that would prevent ‘his’ body from being further poisoned by the testosterone ‘his’ reproductive organs was producing. Once ‘he’ had come back from school- and opened ‘his’ birthday presents, of course- ‘he’ changed into a pair of soft pink tights and a skin-tight black tank leotard, before coming to the Krystie Fullerton School of Dance, where SHE was greeted by HER friends as the 14 year old girl that SHE is.

As the music ends and I dip into a perfect ballerina’s curtsey, I take another glimpse in the mirror at my reflection. It’s all I can do not to pinch myself at the sight of me in my tutu- a year ago I thought I would never get the chance to express my feminine side ever again. I thought I’d be ‘locked in’ the way I was- a boy, then a man, for the rest of my life. Now, I’m not only getting the chance to express my feminine side, but it’s my entire life. Most days when I wake up, I have a smile on my face that lasts for the entire day. Some days, though, I wake up in a panic at the thought that this life might not last…

“Oh my god oh my god you are so awesome!” Laura squeaks as she rushes over and gives me a tight hug, taking care not to crash the tutu that’s sticking out from my waist.

“You were SO cool out there!” Mia concurs, giving me a tight hug of her own. Naturally, this quickly turns into an eight-girl group hug as my teachers and the rest of the class applaud my routine- though there are four additional people here tonight whose approval I’m especially interested in.

“Ashley!” Cassie squeaks, rushing toward me with her arms outstretched. I can’t help but giggle as I pick her up and give her a cuddle- she is, of course, dressed in the pink tights and lilac leotard that make up her own ballet uniform, even though she hasn’t had a class today!

“Hey, Cassie!” I giggle. “Did you like my dance?”

“You are SO pretty!” My six year old sister squeaks excitedly, making my heart melt as Bryony and Dorothy also come over for their cuddles, accompanied by our mother. The most heartwarming thing, though, is that when Cassie came over to me to give me my cuddle, she ran straight past Laura without once looking back at her- and given how much Cassie idolised the older girl in the past, that tells me that I’m definitely doing SOMETHING right.

“Very beautiful,” mum says with a proud voice, before making room for my teachers.

“Tres bien,” Mademoiselle Renou says with a proud grin on her face. “You would never tell that you have only been en pointe for two months!”

“Thanks,” I say as my cheeks redden. “I guess I just have the best teachers in the world, heh.”

“Suck-up,” Miss Fullerton teases as she gives me a gentle hug, trying to avoid squashing both my tutu and her swollen belly. “Now go, get changed and enjoy the rest of your birthday, MISS fourteen year old!”

“Yes, ma’am!” I giggle as I remove my tiara, before heading into the costume storage room and exchanging my tutu for the black leotard I wore to class. When I emerge, I’m not surprised to find Cassie taking the opportunity provided by an empty studio to dance to her heart’s content- and even though she’s only six, some of her steps are even better than my own!

“Come on, you four!” Mum urges, trying to calm Cassie down as she ushers me and my sisters back to our car. “Ahh, almost wish you’d all worn your ballet uniforms today, that would’ve made such a cute picture.”

“We can all wear them when Bryony does her birthday dance next month!” Cassie immediately offers, making me giggle.

“I definitely wouldn’t mind,” I shrug. “You wouldn’t either, would you, Dorothy?”

“Nope!” The four year old girl squeaks with a happy grin.

“Just as long as dad doesn’t see the photograph,” Bryony says, immediately lowering the mood of the car as I help mum fasten Cassie and Dorothy’s seatbelts.

“There was no need to speak like that, Bryony,” mum chastises as I climb into the passenger seat and we set off for home. “Your father loves all four of his daughters equally and totally.”

“That’s right,” I say, backing up my mother even as I try to forget the conversation we had several months ago, at the start of my transition, when dad said he’d happily trade in his one son and four daughters for five sons.

Of course, dad’s one son is the (very convenient) reason he didn’t accompany the rest of the family to the ballet studio, and even though I smile when I see dad bouncing Eddy on his knee, the look on dad’s face when he sees me in my skin-tight dancewear immediately makes my heart sink. It isn’t a look of anger, or disapproval, or hatred… But neither is it a look of happiness or love. Dad may have accepted his responsibilities as my father, he may have sworn to protect me no matter what… But he never agreed to like this responsibility.

Dad’s attitude is all the more maddening when I enter the living room and am greeted by a very welcome surprise.

“Happy birthday, Ashley!” Grandma Jo says, giving me a tight hug as my sisters all rush forward, demanding their own hugs.

“Happy birthday, Ashley!” Grandpa Chris says, giving me a much less tight hug- but a loving one nonetheless.

“Happy birthday, young lady!” Great-Grandma Hazel says, chuckling happily as I lean in to give her her hug (being 84, she’s obviously not as mobile as my other grandparents). “I hope you’ve had an enjoyable day?”

“Yep!” I giggle.

“Ashley did a special dance at ballet as it was her birthday and it was SO beautiful!” Cassie excitedly squeaks as she runs around the room with Dorothy, getting their hugs.

“Really?” Grandma Hazel asks. “Clare, I assume you took a video with this on your fancy phone?”

“Of course,” mum says with a smug grin.

“Well then,” Grandma Jo says, “I know what we’ll all be watching now! AFTER the young women have covered up their one-pieces, of course.”

“It’s called a leotard, grandma!” Cassie says in a near-pout.

“I know what a leotard is,” the sixty year old woman says with a knowing grin. “I used to take dance lessons of my own, believe it or not.”

“You- you did ballet!?” Cassie gasps, her jaw dropping.

“Well, tap dancing lessons, but, you know, close enough,” our grandmother replies, her grin widening.

“She was always dancing around the house when she was a little girl,” Grandma Hazel chuckles. “Reminds me of a few other little and not-so-little girls I could name!” I laugh as Cassie and I are ushered out of the room, returning a short while later in smart, long-sleeved knee-length dresses. I giggle as I sit down, keeping my knees pressed firmly together, as my grandparents hand me yet more presents to add to the already very generous pile I opened this morning.

On my ‘pile’ already are tons of clothes, mostly dresses and skirts but some tops, some underwear, a new swimsuit and even a bikini for the summer. I’ve got new dancewear as well, including several pairs of dance tights and two new leotards. I have new make-up, new nail polish and some jewellery- I even have a new pair of earrings, despite the fact that I’ve yet to get my ears pierced. More accessories, feminine-themed books and DVDs round out my present pile, with my grandparents’ presents all fitting into one of the existing ‘themes’. With every present I open, though, dad’s scowl just gets deeper and deeper. Every time I think I’ve had a breakthrough, every time I think I’ve taken a step forward with him, it always ends with him taking a hundred steps back…

“I bet you enjoyed this birthday more than your thirteenth, didn’t you?” Grandma Jo asks, making me giggle girlishly.

“OH yeah,” I reply, earning giggles from all the other women in the room. “And not just because I got all the presents I REALLY wanted. I think this is the first time I’ve ever actually been really happy on my birthday.” I giggle again and try not to cry as mum sits down next to me and gives me a gentle cuddle- something I’ve seen her do to my sisters plenty of times, but something that I thought had stopped for me several years ago.

“Do you have anything special planned with your friends tomorrow?” Grandpa Chris asks.

“Just hanging out,” I shrug. “Same as every other Saturday.”

“The difference being that this Saturday,” mum says, “Ashley’s sisters will all be ‘hanging out’ too, so Ashley WILL be on her best behaviour!”

“Are you saying that there are times when she isn’t on her best behaviour, Clare?” Grandma Hazel asks, and everyone- with the exception of dad- starts to chuckle as I blush.

“…Girls will be girls, I guess,” mum shrugs. “Especially when they’re fourteen years old! We always make sure to step in before this one goes TOO far though, don’t we, Andy?”

“Of course,” dad mumbles. Despite- or maybe because of- his feeble attempt to sound positive, the tone of dad’s voice still causes an awkward silence to fall over the room.

“Well, anyway,” Grandpa Chris says. “As long as Ashley enjoys her birthday weekend, that’s the important thing, right?”

“Right,” everyone replies, trying vainly to regain the celebratory atmosphere that has been lost.

Unsurprisingly, this attempt fails, and my grandparents depart shortly afterward, bidding me and all four of my siblings goodbye with gentle cuddles. It’s all I can do not to breathe a sigh of relief as I relax back into the sofa, taking care not to crease my new dress.

“Well,” dad says, rising from his chair with Eddy in his arms. “This one’s way past his bedtime, and so are you two!”

“Aww,” Cassie pouts as our father points at her and Dorothy.

“You want to be wide awake tomorrow, don’t you?” Dad retorts. “So you can hang out with all the older girls, right?” Dad chuckles happily, and so do I, as Cassie’s disappointment is replaced by an enthusiastic nod and she and Dorothy follow our father upstairs to get ready for bed.

“Once they’re done, it’s your turn, young lady,” mum says, making Bryony sigh.

“Yes, mum,” the ten year old girl mumbles. “Can- can Ashley brush my hair tonight?”

“As long as she doesn’t mind,” mum says, smiling as I nod in agreement. “And yes, she can paint your toenails too, don’t think I don’t know what the two of you have been doing these last few Fridays! Just don’t let your dad see. Or worse yet, your sisters!”

“Thanks mum!” Bryony says with a happy grin as she and I jump off the sofa and head straight up to my bedroom.

In the six months since I became a full-time girl, my bedroom has changed a lot to reflect the change within me. As well the obvious change in what’s contained within my drawers and my wardrobe, the whole décor of the room has changed. Gone is my light blue paint in favour of a lilac colour. My bed sheets are soft pastel colours instead of my old blue and white hoops. My walls are covered with photos of family and friends, rather than football posters, and ornaments and books about fashion, dancing and celebrities fill my shelves instead of football magazines and Star Wars action figures. I love my new room- and judging by the look of awe that spreads across Bryony’s face every time she sets foot in the room, she’s more than a little fond of it too.

“Okay, sit down, socks off, same as always,” I say to my sister, who dutifully parks herself on her bed and removes her lacy white socks. “You know, at secondary school, we have to wear tights with skirts until the start of June, no matter how hot it is.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Bryony says as I fetch a bottle of red nail polish and a wad of tissue paper, and begin painting her tiny toenails.

“It’s not,” I shrug. “But those are the rules. Same way that boys aren’t allowed to wear shorts at all, no matter how hot it gets.”

“Or skirts,” Bryony says, making me briefly pause.

“I think we both know how unfair THAT is,” I mumble as I continue my painting.

“How unfair DAD is,” Bryony spits.

“Now- ugh,” I sigh. “I was going to say ‘try not to hate dad too much’, but you’re not wrong…”

“I hate the way he treats you,” Bryony snarls. “Just because you’re a girl now.”

“He’s trying his hardest,” I say.

“He’s had six months,” Bryony mumbles.

“He had thirteen and a half years before that,” I retort.

“I know,” my sister mumbles. “But it still makes me mad.”

“He’ll come round soon,” I say. “He’ll realise that he’s now got four daughters, and his only option is to get used to it.”

“If he doesn’t, I’ll make him,” Bryony says determinedly.

“You don’t have to fight my battle for me,” I mumble as I hand my sister a small electric fan to dry her toenails.

“You’re my sister, that’s my job,” the ten year old girl replies, warming my heart. “And you’ll watch over me at secondary school next year, won’t you?”

“Of course,” I say with a smile. “Me and all the gang will take care of you in your first year.”

“Does that include that George boy you were friends with?” Bryony asks, immediately draining all the warmth from my heart. “Will he be coming tomorrow?”

“…I don’t know,” I mumble, ushering Bryony and her tiny socks out of my bedroom. “But you will, of course! Plenty of older girls for you to hang around with…”

“I know,” Bryony says with a smug grin as she shuts the door behind her, leaving me alone in my room with my thoughts- all of which are centred around my former best friend.

Six months ago was the first day I went into school wearing a skirt. That day should’ve been one of the happiest of my life, but reality soon conspired to make it one of the most miserable days of my life- not least because of what happened to my friend George. Before the morning had even ended, Ryan Reid- one of the most feared thugs in year 11- had beaten George so badly that he needed to be taken to hospital for treatment, and all for the ‘crime’ of being my friend. The following day, Ryan’s sister Samantha- a girl in the year above me- would assault me with a shoe, leaving a scar above my left eye that will take years to fully heal.

Ryan and Samantha were both expelled for their assaults, of course, and George’s parents are taking legal action against the Reids for what they did, but the damage they caused was irreversible- and I don’t just mean my scar. In the weeks following my and George’s return to school, attitudes toward us changed. We were no longer greeted by giggles and pointed fingers, but by hushed whispers and averted gazes. We went from objects of ridicule to objects of pity, and even fear… And George simply couldn’t cope with it. Despite his insistence that we were friends, that we were tight, in the weeks following the assault, George became more and more ‘distant’. We’d sit together in class, sure, but we’d be all business, focussed on work instead of chatting about our usual nonsense. At break, George would steer clear of our usual table, even despite the presence of his (soon to be ex) girlfriend in the group.

By the start of March, the boy who had once been so open-minded that he’d even started taking ballet lessons had stopped talking to me altogether, instead spending all of his breaks and lunchtimes playing football with the same idiots who sneered at me behind my back in the school corridors. I still had my best girl friends, of course, and I’d even started to make friends with some of the girls in my year (who’d stepped into the ‘George’ role in classes), but I still really, really missed George- and still do, in fact. He could quite easily have turned his back on me the second he discovered that I was transgendered, but he didn’t, and not doing so caused him to be badly hurt. I can’t blame George for hating me, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less…

My alarm clock wakes me early on Saturday morning, and I just about manage to drag myself out of bed and to the shower, where I let the hot water wash away my tiredness ahead of what promises to be a fun, exciting day. After blow-drying my hair, I brush it into a cute, feminine style, with a lop-sided fringe that covers my forehead- or rather, covers the scar on the left hand side of my forehead.

As I cover my face with a light layer of foundation and apply a little mascara and eyeliner, I can’t help but muse on how ‘right’ everything about this feels. The joy of playing with my hair, experimenting with my look, of enhancing my features with make-up… Sometimes I wonder whether or not I’d enjoy it as much if ‘the norm’ was reversed and it was men who wore make-up instead of women. However, I’m fairly sure the answer would be ‘no’, as while the act of applying make-up is an enjoyable one, it’s nothing compared to when I’m finished and I stare in the mirror at the vision of femininity I have created.

The feeling of excitement only grows when I return to my bedroom to take my testosterone blocker (which hasn’t changed my body much since I started taking it- then again, I didn’t expect it to) before picking out my outfit for the day. After pulling on a comfortable pair of panties and a training bra (which I don’t really need to wear, but I don anyway), I pull on a brand-new red and black hooped long-sleeved top I got yesterday, followed by a cute miniskirt made from a shiny black material. I giggle as I do a quick twirl and the skirt flares out away from my waist, but a quick look in my mirror at my bare legs shows that my look for the day is far from complete.

It’s much too warm outside for tights- peeling off my ballet tights last night was a particularly unpleasant experience- and I don’t particularly want to wear leggings underneath this skirt as they’d ruin the look. However, as I sit down on my bed, I’m reminded of Bryony sitting opposite me last night in her tiny white socks, and I immediately know how I’m going to complete my look for today. I open my underwear drawer, but I reach past the wadded-up ball of tights and instead pull out a pair of long, light black socks, smiling wickedly as I stretch them over my legs, the tops coming to rest just above my knees. A final glance in my mirror shows that I look a lot older than my fourteen years and a day- but most importantly, I don’t look in the slightest bit boyish.

This is confirmed for me when I head down the stairs and am instantly greeted by a look of utter discomfort from my father.

“Morning, Ashley,” dad mumbles as he gives Eddy his morning feed.

“Hi dad,” I say, making my father’s look of discomfort worsen as I cross one socked leg over the other.

“What time are your friends arriving?” Dad asks.

“Probably the next 45 minutes,” I reply.

“Right,” dad says with a grimace. “Get this down you, Ed, don’t want you getting hungry in the car!”

“…The car?” I ask.

“Yeah,” dad says, looking at me as though I’ve missed something obvious. “While you’re playing with your friends, me and Eddy will be with your grandparents.”

“O… Kay…” I say.

“Ashley,” dad sighs, “you’ve got to do what you want to do. I’ve accepted that. But it doesn’t mean I’m going to stick around and encourage it. And I’m certainly not going to- well, umm, Eddy-“

“You’re not going to let me ‘corrupt him with girliness’?” I sneer, rolling my eyes as dad averts his gaze. “Dad, I’m not going to make Eddy be anything he doesn’t want to be.”

“…You were meant to defend him from his older sisters, not become one of them,” dad mumbles, making me groan with frustration.

“What does he need ‘defending’ from?” I ask.

“You know,” dad mumbles. “From teasing, that sort of thing…”

“Yeah, because super-smart Bryony, all-loving Cassie and is-a-little-sister-herself Dorothy are going to torture Eddy when he’s older, aren’t they?” I snort.

“It’s when THEY’RE older that worries me,” dad says. “You don’t know what teenage girls can be like.”

“Dad, I AM a teenaged girl,” I say, silencing the older man.

“We’ll be back around dinnertime,” dad says, gently placing Eddy into his car seat before heading into the kitchen to bid my mother and my sisters farewell with a kiss for each for them… But, obviously, no kiss for me.

“Hi Ashley!” Bryony excitedly squeaks as she jumps onto the sofa next to me. “What time are your friends coming round?”

“Umm, soon,” I say, straightening my skirt and my socks. “You’re excited about hanging out with the girls, then?”

“A bit,” Bryony shrugs. “I figure I’d better get to know them now, so that I’ll know them already when I go to your school in September.”

“Yes, that’s the only reason,” I say, before biting my tongue as I realise that I’m acting the exact same way dad stated that my sisters would in the future. “…But it is a good idea, I guess. Most of the girls already know you anyway, heh! You already hang out at Nicole- sorry, Sabrina’s sister’s house most of the time, you go to ballet with Laura’s stepsister…”

“I know,” Bryony shrugs. “But I want to hang out with THEM, not their sisters. I want them to like me…”

“Aww,” I sigh, giving my sister a long, tight hug. “Of COURSE they’ll like you! I won’t give them any other choice!”

“Thanks,” Bryony whispers. Moments later, a knock comes from the door, interrupting out tender moment.

“Huh,” I muse. “Laura must be early today…” However, when I answer the door, I’m surprised to find that it’s not the usually-first Laura stood on my doorstep, but another one of my friends.

“Happy birthday!” Mia giggles, giving me an excited hug. “That is a CUTE skirt, hehe!”

“Thanks!” I squeak, doing a twirl for my friend and giggling as the skirt once again flares out. “Like the socks?”

“LOVE the socks!” Mia gushes as we head into the living room. “Hey, Bryony!”

“Hi Mia,” Bryony replies in a quiet, almost nervous voice.

“Aww,” Mia sighs. “I remember when I was younger, always being dragged along to my big- well, to my older siblings’ birthday parties, but I’ve got two older BROTHERS, and you, Bryony, only have an older SISTER, hehe!”

“And trust me, I didn’t need to ‘drag’ Bryony anywhere!” I say, making my friend giggle as my sister starts to blush.

“Oh, stop embarrassing her!” my black-haired friend chastises me. “So, Bryony, you looking forward to spending all day getting teased by your sister at school!”

“I WAS looking forward to secondary school,” Bryony replies, making Mia giggle even more as I dramatically roll my eyes.

“You’d better start respecting your big sister if you want this skirt handing down to you when you’re older!” I snort, making my sister smile smugly. Before bryony can retort again, another knock comes from the door. However, when I answer the door, I’m surprised to find that it still isn’t my fellow T-girl.

“Happy birthday, birthday girlie!” Harriet squeaks, giving me a tight, giggly hug. “Okay, your birthday was ACTUALLY yesterday, but, like, whatever, right?”

“Right!” I giggle.

“And that is a CUTE skirt!” Harriet giggles, playfully stroking the fabric of the hem. “Goes SO well with those socks.”

“I know, doesn’t it?” Mia replies, having obviously overheard us from the living room. “Hey, Hazza!”

“Hey Mia!” Harriet says, giving the black-haired girl a much less tight hug than the one she gave me. “You been here long?”

“Just a few minutes,” Mia replies. “Just, you know, catching up with the birthday girlie and her little sister.”

“Aww,” Harriet coos. “You looking forward to big school, Bryony?”

“A bit,” Bryony shrugs.

“Oh my god!” Mia says, as though she suddenly remember something. “If you’re eleven, that means you’ll be getting your pointe shoes soon too, won’t you?”

“Miss Fullerton says I’ll probably get them around Christmas time,” Bryony says. “I’m kinda nervous about that, too…”

“There’s no real need to be,” I say. “They don’t hurt as much as everyone makes out, not at first, anyway.”

“And they make you look SO girly and gorgeous,” Mia gushes. “Just look at your sister if you don’t believe me!”

“Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the girliest of them all?” Harriet asks as she gives me a playful cuddle.

“Me!” I exclaim, pulling a feminine pose on the sofa to the delight of my friends and my sister.

Naturally, talk of pointe shoes soon attracts Cassie through from the kitchen, meaning that ballet dominates our chat for the next few minutes- with Cassie even doing a few steps, much to everyone’s delight- before the rest of my friends arrive. Laura is a little put out to find that she wasn’t the first to arrive, but soon gets over it, especially when Priya and Suriya arrive, with two brightly-coloured packages in their hands.

“Happy birthday!” The sisters both squeak, wrapping me in a tight hug before forcing the packages into my hands.

“Oh my god, thank you so much!” I say. “This has EASILY been the best birthday ever, hehe!”

“Is that because it’s the first birthday that MISS Ashley Moore has celebrated?” Priya asks with a smug grin, bringing a sad smile to my face.

“Of course,” I whisper.

“Then that just means that your fifteenth will be even better!” Suriya giggles. “And then your sixteenth will be better than that, and your seventeenth will be better than that… And we, as the older members of the gang, will make sure that your eighteenth will be the biggest, best and girliest birthday of all time, won’t we, Pri?”

“Duh, of course!” Priya laughs. “Okay, we’ll all be at university by then, but we are SO coming back for that. For everyone’s party, hehe!”

“Too right, you are!” Laura giggles as we return to the living room. “Now, Ash, one of those presents is from us, the other one we picked up at ballet last night. It’s from another friend…” I frown in confusion as I examine the two gifts more closely- one is obviously a pair of shoes, and has the names of all seven of my friends (and about a hundred ‘X’s) on the label, whereas the other- which seems to be an item of clothing- doesn’t seem to have a label at all.

“Is- is it from Miss Fullerton?” I ask as I carefully open the present. “Or Mademoiselle Renou?”

“Not quite,” Laura says smugly as I fully unwrap the gift- which is an absolutely STUNNING dress.

The dress is knee-length, has cap sleeves and a fairly low neckline, and is made of a shimmering red fabric that seems to sparkle in the sunlight. Clipped to the dress is a handwritten note that I read aloud for the benefit of my friends.

“Happy birthday, Ashley,” I say. “Every girl deserves to be treated like a princess on her birthday, no matter how she was born or what anyone else says. This creation of my fiancée’s might not be a super-huge ball gown but it should do for now. With love, Nikki Thomas.”

“Oh, that is SO cool,” Nicole gushes. “Now you’ve both got Sarah Phillips dresses!”

“I know!” Laura squeaks. “You have GOT to try that dress on, Ash.”

“AFTER you open your other present!” Suriya orders, making me blush as I tear the wrapping paper off the other gift, which, as I predicted, is a shoebox- but when I look inside the box, my heart instantly melts.

The shoes are the same colour red as my new dress and made of a soft fabric, but that’s not the most exciting thing about them- that would be the two inch high heel on the back of the shoes.

“After what your mum said at the photoshoot last month, I figured that you SHOULD have your own pair of heels,” Laura says as I excitedly examine the shoes. “Though obviously, don’t let her see them!”

“…And don’t let my sisters try them on either,” I say, regarding my three younger siblings with a smug grin as they let out sighs of disappointment.

“NOW you can try them on,” Priya says with a grin just as smug as my own as I head toward the living room door.

“Not with her nails looking like that, she can’t!” Laura suddenly interrupts, producing a bottle of dark red nail polish from her handbag and making me giggle even more excitedly.

Ten minutes later, with nails that match my outfit, I sweep into the living room in my new dress and my new shoes, earning cheers from all of the other girls in the room- even the ones with single-digit ages.

“You are SO pretty, Ashley!” Cassie (whose nails have also been painted by Laura) squeaks, before running over to give me a tight hug.

“Thanks, Cassie!” I squeak in response, gently cuddling the tiny girl as I exchange a quick look with Laura- the girl Cassie had idolised for months before the start of my transition, but who barely gets any attention from her anymore. The smile on my friend’s face is enough to tell me that she’s more than happy to pass the ‘responsibility’ onto me- and I, of course, am only too happy to take it!

“How does it feel?” Megan asks, excitedly bouncing up and down as I twirl and pose for the girls.

“INCREDIBLE,” I reply. “I’ve never worn a dress like this before, it’s so soft and smooth… And the shoes are AMAZING too, hehe! I almost feel like I’m at prom…”

“It’s your birthday,” Priya says. “It’s better than prom!”

“Says the girl who’ll be going to her own prom in a few weeks!” Suriya teases her sister, who simply rolls her eyes in response.

“What’s ‘prom’?” Dorothy asks, earning ‘aww’s from all of the teenaged girls.

“Prom,” Laura explains, “is the single BEST thing about school!”

“After you leave school,” Suriya continues, “when you’re sixteen, like Priya, you have a special party where all the girls wear fancy make-up, gorgeous jewellery… And the biggest, fanciest dress that money can buy!” I giggle as Suriya’s obvious excitement for prom quickly spreads to my sisters, who are all hanging on every word she’s saying.

“Of course,” Nicole interjects, “the BEST part about prom is that you get to dance with boys!” I grimace as my sisters- who of course, don’t have the same ‘fondness’ for boys that Nicole does- screw their faces up in disgust.

“Eww,” Bryony spits. “Boys are horrid!”

“Well it doesn’t HAVE to be a boy you dance with,” Harriet says, winking in my direction to let me know that she has the same attitude toward boys as my sisters- and more to the point, the same attitude that I have.

“Ashley,” Cassie asks, “will you dance with a boy at your prom?”

“Umm…” I stammer, flustered at having suddenly been put on the spot. “I, umm- it’s not something I have to think about, not for a while.”

“Wimp,” Suriya whispers to me with a giggle.

“Oh my god,” Nicole suddenly exclaims. “I just had an idea- everyone say who would be your ultimate prom date!”

“Everyone old enough to think of a prom date, anyway!” Mia laughs. “And mine would HAVE to be… Justin Bieber.”

“Good choice!” Suriya giggles. “Okay, mine… Zayn Malik.” I’m forced to giggle as everyone else in the room showers Suriya with frustrated groans. “Okay, so it’s an obvious choice,” the tiny Indian girl continues. “But he IS cute, and if we get married, I don’t have to change my surname, right?”

“So does that mean that Harriet would go to prom with Bradley Cooper?” Priya asks, making our ginger-haired friend grimace.

“Eww, no thank you!” Harriet sneers. “Try Jennifer Lawrence. Or Taylor Swift, or Hannah Dexter…”

“You like tall girls, then?” Nicole asks, playfully pushing Harriet toward the six foot tall Megan.

“Well who’d be your choice then, Nicole?” Harriet asks.

“Guy Martin,” Nicole says with a smug grin.

“Really?” Laura asks. “That motorbike guy from the north?”

“You can’t tell me he ISN’T cool,” Nicole says. “And CUTE!”

“And covered in grease half the time,” Megan snorts.

“Okay then, Miss Cartman,” Nicole says. “Who’s be your pick?”

“I…” Megan begins, before grimacing. “I don’t really want to think about BOYS right now.” The look Megan gives me tells me why without her having to say a word- my former best friend obviously caused a lot more damage than I thought when they split up

“Okay,” Nicole says quietly, obviously sensitive to Megan’s pain. “Birthday girl, pick someone… Boy OR girl.”

“Ehh,” I grimace as I’m suddenly put on the spot.

“It CAN be someone in this room, if you want,” Harriet giggles.

“Ooh! Ooh! Can I go?” Cassie asks, earning yet more ‘aww’s from the other girls.

“Ehh, sorry, Cassie, it really has to be someone as old as Ashley, or older than her,” Laura says, making my sister pout.

“…How can I choose between you all?” I answer, earning groans from the girls- though their frustration quickly gives way to a group hug with me in the middle.

“Careful of the dress!” Laura says, breaking the hug before it gets too tight. “Though- and this is just a hypothetical question- if you HAD to go to prom with a boy… Who would you choose?”

“Umm,” I mumble as I pretended to think.

In truth, it’d be a no-brainer- the only boy I’d ever consider spending any time with would be the former best friend who’s making Megan so miserable. We wouldn’t go in a romantic way, of course- like the way Priya will be going to prom with her boyfriend- but as two friends who happen to be a boy and a girl. Even though I’d constantly irritate him with my fussing with my dress and make-up, and he’d constantly irritate me with his pretending not to care about my look (and knowing George, he wouldn’t have to pretend much). We’d probably dance together once, but not a slow dance, and we’d probably go home in a limo, but not by ourselves, with other ‘couples’.

It probably wouldn’t surprise you to learn that this is something I’ve thought about a lot. And as much fun as I’m having in my party today… There’s a part of me that really wishes that George was here too. Obviously, he’d be bored out of his skull, and embarrassed about some of the things we’re discussing (not least the prom date ‘quiz’), and he’d probably spend most of his time cuddled up next to Megan and wouldn’t speak to me as much as the girls… But he’d at least be here. And not sat alone in his bedroom playing videogames, which is what he’s inevitably doing right now.

“Wow,” mum breathes as she walks into the living room, snapping me out of my reverie. “Don’t you look grown-up!” I giggle as I stand up and do a twirl for my mother in my new dress and shoes. “Are those high heels?”

“They’re barely two inches,” I retort. “Hardly ‘high’…”

“Still, though…” Mum says with a look of concern on her face, before letting out a sigh. “Ugh, I suppose you ARE growing up. And it is a pretty dress.”

“And a pretty Ashley!” Cassie squeaks, making me giggle. “Mummy, we’re talking about who we’d take to a prom!” I instantly grimace- as do all the other teenagers in the room- as mum’s face changes from a look of concern to a look of anger.

“Okay,” mum says as she takes Cassie and Dorothy by the hand and leads them out of the living room. “Think you’ve spent enough time with the big girls today. You too, Bryony.”

“But mum…” Bryony pleads.

“No buts!” Mum says as my sisters all pout at being removed from the party, leaving us eight remaining girls in an awkward silence.

“…At least that wasn’t me being dragged away,” I say, earning giggles from all of my friends. “Seriously though- and I probably shouldn’t say this, but I’m going to anyway- Bryony IS kinda worried that she won’t fit in next year.”

“Aww,” Suriya sighs. “Well we’ll all make her feel welcome at school, won’t we, girls?”

“Of course!” Nicole giggles. “And the same goes for Sabrina, right?”

“Duh, of course!” Laura laughs. “The more girls, the better!”

“Kinda wish I wasn’t a year older now,” Priya sighs sadly. “Oh well, I guess I’ll just have to enjoy hanging out with all the older kids at college, staying out later, not having to worry about detentions or being grounded…”

“You’ve never ever had a detention and you’ve never been grounded before!” Suriya retorts, making her sister giggle.

“And I never will be,” Priya retorts. “More importantly, though… Ashley never did tell us which BOY she’d pick to go to prom with!” I roll my eyes as the focus suddenly shifts back to me.

“…I wouldn’t go,” I say defiantly. “If I couldn’t go with a girl, I just wouldn’t go!”

“You say it, sister!” Harriet laughs, before giving me a VERY tight squeeze.

“But no girl in particular, right?” Mia asks with a wink.

“…Laura hasn’t answered the question yet,” I say, giggling as Laura rolls her eyes before shooting a look of pure fury at me.

“Priya hasn’t either,” Laura says.

“Because everyone knows she’s taking her boyfriend,” Suriya retorts. “Ooh… Does this mean that you’ll be taking KAIN?”

“Kain isn’t my boyfriend,” Laura mumbles.

“Not yet, anyway!” Mia teases as Laura’s cheeks start to redden.

“This is a stupid game,” Laura mumbles. “And we haven’t given MISS Moore a makeover to match her new dress yet, have we?”

“…I’m going to pay for putting you on the spot like that, aren’t I?” I sigh.

“If by ‘pay’ you mean ‘spend the rest of the day looking like a supermodel’, then yes,” Laura says as she and Mia grab my hand and lead me to the kitchen where- along with the other girls- we spend the next few hours making each other over until we all look like Hollywood stars. Obviously, hundreds of photos get taken for our social media accounts, and as the birthday girl, I (and my new dress and shoes) am the focus of most of the pictures, some of which mum prints out for her scrapbook- and my bedroom wall- when she gets home.

Despite their pleading, my sisters aren’t allowed back into the ‘party’ for the rest of the day, meaning I don’t see them again until after my friends leave at 6pm. Cassie, of course, immediately gives me a hug and tells me how pretty I am and how glad she is to be my sister, but Bryony still seems unhappy at being excluded from the party- and her unhappiness only deepens when dad and Eddy return just after the last of my friends leave. However, no matter how much Bryony pouts, she can’t match the look of sheer horror on my father’s face when he sees my dress… And my make-up, and my nails, and my heels…

“Did- did you have fun?” Dad asks.

“It was SO cool,” I reply, trying not to grin as dad grimaces (and Bryony chuckles) at my girly exuberance. “I got this dress from Nikki, that girl who I met at the photoshoot a few weeks ago, remember?”

“Oh,” dad mumbles.

“Oh yes,” mum says in an attempt to avoid an awkward silence. “She was very friendly. Have you thanked her for the dress yet?”

“Umm… Not yet,” I say. “I’ll probably send her a Facebook message after dinner.”

“Make sure you do,” mum says. “And make sure you wash off all that make-up before you go to bed!”

“Yes, mum,” I say with a giggle.

Naturally, I decide that when mum says ‘wash off the make-up before you go to bed’, she means ‘make it the last thing you do before you go to bed’, so I keep the make-up securely in place, along with my dress and my heels, as I head up to my bedroom and switch on my tablet computer. Unsurprisingly, when I log into Facebook, Nikki is showing as ‘unavailable’, but I send her a message anyway thanking her for my present. Much to my surprise, though, a reply comes through to my message mere seconds later.

‘Hey Ash!’ The message reads, followed by a string of emojis including an image of a birthday cake. ‘How was your big day? The big one-four, right?’

‘Right!’ I reply with a grinning emoji. ‘Thanks so much for the dress, I’m wearing it right now!’ I smile as I take a photo of me in my mirror and send it to Nikki, who sends several thumbs ups in response.

‘Gorgeous and girly!’ Nikki types with a grinning emoji. ‘Can’t chat long, kinda wearing a special dress myself…’ I giggle as Nikki sends me a selfie of her wearing a very extravagant mauve strapless dress, fancy gold jewellery and an elaborate hairdo that looks like it took hours to secure in place.

‘So cool,’ I reply.

‘And it’s my turn in the big white dress in a few weeks!’ Nikki types, her excitement obvious in her words. ‘Before that though, I’m glad you messaged me. Make sure you buy the Sunday Globe newspaper tomorrow. There’s a feature in the magazine you might want to read.’ I barely pay attention to the winking emoji Nikki sends as my heart rate suddenly increases- there’s only one reason why I’d want to read that newspaper tomorrow…

‘Is it being published?’ I ask.

‘Yep!’ Nikki replies with a ‘cheering’ emoji. ‘Took them longer than they’d thought to edit together all the photos they took as they took a LOT. They sent me a DVD with a copy of every photo they took on there- I’ll make sure you and Laura get copies at ballet on Tuesday.’

‘OMG thank you so much!’ I type as I literally bounce up and down on my bed. ‘I am SO telling all my friends about this!’

‘I’ll leave you to it, then,’ Nikki types with a ‘giggling’ emoji. ‘There’s a beautiful brown-haired girl staring me who I think wants a dance with a bridesmaid!’ I reply with a smiling emoji as Nikki goes back offline, before opening up a group chat with all of the girls.

‘Hey girlies!’ I type excitedly. ‘Guess who’s going to be in a newspaper tomorrow…’

‘OMG!’ Laura- who was obviously in the photoshoot as well- immediately replies. ‘It’s tomorrow?’

‘Nikki just told me!’ I type, still literally bouncing with excitement. ‘This is so awesome!’

‘OMG is this that photoshoot you two went to?’ Megan types.

‘Yep!’ Laura types, followed a string of emojis- a string I’m more than happy to contribute to myself!

‘OMG OMG we are so buying that!’ Nicole types. ‘OMG we’ve got to tell everyone else from school!’

‘I’ll tell everyone from drama!’ Suriya types.

‘I’ll message gym club!’ Nicole types. ‘Pri, can you let everyone in your year know?’

‘I’ll do what I can,’ Priya types with a grinning emoji.

‘Everyone apart from Scott bloody McIntosh!’ Laura types with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji at the mention of her ex-boyfriend. ‘Ash, can you let your year know?’

‘Sure,’ I type, but as I go to compose a new message, I suddenly realise that of all the people in my year, the only one I really know all that well is George… And I haven’t messaged him in weeks. Nonetheless, I open up a new chat window to him and begin typing.

‘Hey George,’ I type. ‘Just so you’re aware, I was at a photoshoot with a few other trans people a few weeks ago, it’s going to be published in the Sunday Globe magazine tomorrow. Just in case you want to read it.’ I hesitate before pressing the ‘send’ button- it’s been ages since I spoke to George, and the first thing I’m going to say to him is ‘hey, I’m going to be in a newspaper’. After what happened between him and Ryan Reid, the last thing he’ll want to hear is me boasting at him…

After a moment of indecision, I delete the message I’d typed, before closing the chat window entirely and collapsing back on my bed to try to process everything that happened today.

My last thirteen birthdays had all been massive disappointments. Every single time, I was complimented on being a ‘handsome young man’, or a ‘big strong boy’, when all I wanted to be called was a beautiful young woman, or a pretty girl… And today, after fourteen long years, that finally happened. My friends- my amazing friends- have given me the birthday celebration I’ve always dreamed of- the same type of celebration that they themselves have had for the past few years. My parents- even my father- have supplied me with the gifts- the clothes and the make-up- that I always wanted.

I am, unquestionably, a fourteen year old girl, just as I always wanted to be… But still, my life is far from perfect. My best friend won’t even speak to me anymore. My dad can barely look me in the eye, and several of my grandparents prefer to act like I don’t even exist. I knew it wouldn’t be as easy as pulling on a skirt and living happily ever after- but I am entitled to want more ‘wins’, aren’t I?

After chatting with the girls some more, I head to bed just after 10pm and try to focus on the positives in my life- and there are many of them- rather than the negatives. After all, there’s no guarantee they’ll be negatives forever…

I’m woken the following morning by a firm hand shaking my tired body awake, giggling excitedly as I groan.

“Wake up, superstar!” Mum says as I rub the tiredness from my eyes.

“Super- what?” I moan.

“Does this look familiar?” Mum asks as she shoves a magazine in my face, on the cover of which are nine people wearing a variety of clothing, all of which has a blue, pink and white theme. As I scan the cover with my bleary eyes, I immediately start to recognise faces- one of them is Stephanie Abbott, a singer from my favourite band, one of them is Nikki Thomas, the same girl I was chatting with on Facebook last night. One of the girls is Laura, looking almost unrecognisable in her tutu, pointe shoes and stage make-up… And one of them is me, giggling happily as I pose in a knee-length party dress.

“It- it’s out?” I ask, before remembering my conversation with Nikki last night. “Oh, um, cool!”

“Your grandparents are downstairs,” mum says. “With a dozen copies for you to sign, hehe! So get up and get dressed quick, megastar! Your adoring public awaits!”

I giggle excitedly as I get out of bed and quickly shower, before putting on a very light layer of make-up (just a little mascara and a bit of pink lipstick), pulling on a lacy vest and a pair of panties followed by a light pair of black tights, a girly grey t-shirt and a brand-new wraparound tartan skirt. As I look in the mirror at my reflection, I’m once again reminded that I am, unquestionably, the fourteen year old girl I always wanted to be… But as I head down to the living room, the look of discomfort on my father’s face as he sees me reminds me that I still have a long way to go, and the momentary look of discomfort on the face of Grandpa Chris- who’s always been one of my biggest supporters- tells me that I may never reach my goal.

Fortunately, the squeals of excitement from all three of my sisters- who tackle me onto the sofa with tight hugs the second they see me- are a good reminder that I have had plenty of ‘victories’, and will continue to do so.

“Ashley you are so AWESOME!” Bryony gushes.

“You are so pretty in that dress!” Cassie squeaks. “Did they let you keep it? Can I try it on?”

“Girls!” Mum laughs, instantly calming my sisters down. “Give your sister- your FAMOUS sister- some space!”

“You looked very grown-up in the photos,” Grandma Jo says with obvious pride in her voice. “And in your interview too.”

“Yes, very mature,” Grandpa Chris concurs. “Wasn’t she, Andrew?”

“Umm, umm, yes,” dad splutters as he cradles my baby brother in his arms. “Very- very, umm, mature, Ashley…”

“I, umm… It was a fun day,” I mumble as my cheeks turn a deep shade of red.

“I don’t doubt it!” Grandma Jo laughs, before handing me about ten copies of the magazine and a ballpoint pen. “Better get in practice now, superstar!” I blush even more as I sign the magazines for my grandparents, before groaning with embarrassment as they hand me a giftwrapped package that they’d hidden behind the sofa.

“I know your birthday was two days ago,” Grandpa Chris says as he hands me the present, “but as you’ll see, we couldn’t very well give you this then!” I giggle as I unwrap the present, before sighing happily as I see what’s inside- a framed copy of my photos and interview from the magazine’s article.

“It’s as much a present for your parents as it is for you,” Grandma Jo explains. “Something to remind them of the time when their eldest daughter was a megastar.”

“The FIRST time their eldest daughter was a megastar!” Grandpa Chris says.

“Oh my god, thank you both so much!” I sigh, blinking back tears as I give my grandparents a tight hug each.

“No, thank YOU,” Grandma Jo says. “We are very, very proud of you, Ashley. We all are, aren’t we Andrew?”

“Yes, yes of course,” dad says, obviously trying his hardest to sound enthusiastic. “Very, umm, very proud.” I force a smile on my face- if dad’s making the effort, then so can I, at least for today.

My grandparents stick around until the late afternoon, spending as much time fussing over my sisters as they do over me once the initial excitement of my ‘fame’ has died down. The attention I get means that the grin I’ve had on my face stays put even after my grandparents leave- and even after dad calls me into the kitchen for a private talk.

“You know, Ash,” dad mumbles as he fiddles with Eddy’s bottle, “I AM really proud of you. For, umm, for what you’ve done. I read your interview twice, all the way through… Umm, thanks for not, umm, you know, ‘dropping me in it’…”

“You’re welcome,” I shrug. “I wasn’t, you know, ‘generous’, though…”

“Yeah, you didn’t have any reason to be,” dad sighs. “I know I’ve not made it easy for you the last six months. But you know I don’t, umm, I don’t love you any less for, well, you know…”

“For becoming a girl?” I ask, biting my lip as dad frowns and averts his gaze.

“I, umm, I didn’t know just how hard it had been,” dad says. “Until I read the interview, I mean. I didn’t, you know, realise what you were feeling…”

“Even though you were the one who told me that life both at home and at school would be hell?” I ask.

“I’d hoped that I’d be wrong,” dad sighed. “But that scar on your forehead shows that I was right.”

“The girl who gave me it got expelled,” I retort. “Permanently. No one’s dared to touch me since.”

“Doesn’t mean that they won’t,” dad says. “But hopefully, this magazine thing will help a little. Help, umm, make you popular…”

“I get it,” I whisper. “Or it’ll just paint an even bigger target on myself…”

“I can’t say I WASN’T thinking that,” dad sighs. “But no matter what, Ash, I will support you.”

“Even if you can’t accept me as your daughter?” I ask in a cold voice.

“Just- just give me time, okay?” Dad sighs. “After six months, it is getting a little easier every day, and you’ve stuck with it fully. Even I have to acknowledge that it’s not, you know, just some silly little game…”

“And never was,” I say.

“No, obviously it wasn’t,” dad says, before letting out a long sigh. “Ash… You’re a lot happier than I’ve seen you for a very long time. That makes me happy. Would I be happier if you were still my son? Yes. I won’t deny that. But you have to do what you have to do.”

“…Good talk,” I say with a sarcastic snort of laughter.

“We’ve had worse,” dad sighs. “Go on, get ready for dinner. Don’t forget you’ll need to remove your nail polish before school tomorrow.”

“I know,” I say as I leave the kitchen to find mum just ending a phone call.

“Hi Ashley,” mum says. “I was, umm, I was just calling your grandparents- umm, Grandpa Alan and Grandma Wendy- to see if they saw the magazine.”

“Okay…?” I reply.

“They, umm, they did buy a couple of copies,” mum says, making us both smile. “That’s all they’d say, though.”

“Oh,” I whisper.

“Ashley…” Mum sighs, rushing over to give me a gentle hug. “This will be the turning point for you, I know it. Things WILL start to get better, you WILL have a happier time at school, you WILL get the love you deserve from your family.”

“Or things will just get infinitely worse,” I snort.

“Don’t think that!” Mum urges. “Be positive, Ashley. I’m sure Laura’s being positive about the article.”

“Yeah, well, she actually LOOKS like a girl,” I sigh.

“So. Do. You,” mum says. “Trust your mother, okay? Things WILL get better from now on. I can see you getting a LOT more friends at school after this article!” Yeah, I think to myself as I head upstairs to get ready for dinner. I bet George won’t be one of them, though…

Despite my parents’ optimism, I still have butterflies in my stomach the following morning as I walk up to the front gate, dressed in the same white blouse, grey tights, pleated grey skirt and tiny ballerina flats I’ve worn to school for the past six months. The last time I was this nervous was the first day I came to school dressed like this- fortunately, as I walk into the vast building, I’m greeted by the same seven people who made that first day slightly more tolerable. And just like that first day, all seven of them are buzzing with energy, and swamp me in a group hug the second they see me, before playfully hauling me and Laura onto their shoulders.

“Superstars! Superstars!” The six girls chant as Laura and I almost start hyperventilating from the attention.

“God, girlies!” Laura squeaks, her legs just as wobbly as my own as we’re gently lowered to the floor.

“What?” Mia asks. “It’s not every day that two of your best friends become SUPERSTARS!” Laura and I both bite our lips and blush as another chant of ‘superstars’ starts up.

“Heh, just hope everyone else in the school agrees,” I chuckle, straightening my skirt as I head toward form.

“Oh, I reckon you might be surprised,” Suriya says with a knowing grin as she and the other girls head toward their respective forms.

As I approach my form room- my legs still unsteady due to nerves- nothing seems particularly out of the ordinary, but as I set foot inside the classroom, it immediately falls deathly silent. The eyes of every girl in the room- but oddly, none of the boys- follow me as I hesitantly make my way to my seat, and the second I sit down, one of the girls on an adjacent table leans toward me with a wide grin on her face.

“Hey, Ashley!” The girl whispers. Oh god, I think to myself. Here we go… “…What’s Stephanie Abbott like? Is she as mental as everyone makes her out to be?”

“Umm,” I say, taken aback by my classmate’s question- and the fact that it appears to be genuine. “Yeah, she’s cool, I guess…”

“Eee!” The girl squeaks excitedly as I suddenly realise the opportunity that’s been presented to me.

The girl who’s interrogating me now is one of the girls who thought nothing of giggling at me when I first showed up to school wearing a skirt, or whispering behind my back… She’s obviously only interested in talking to me because of my ‘celebrity connection’- even I’m not deluded enough to think that she’s suddenly become interested in being friends with me because of my winning personality. But at the same time, even a fake friend is better than an enemy…

“I’ll tell you who’s REALLY cool, though, and that’s Jamie-Lee Burke,” I continue, delighting the girls who are hanging off my every word. “She’s really friendly, despite how famous she is, and she’s really interested in making a difference for- well, you know, girls like me…”

“SO cool,” one of the other girls sighs. “I saw some of the photos from her wedding at the weekend, it looked SO amazing…”

“Yeah,” I sigh dreamily, not even realising that I’ve adopted the exact same mannerisms as the other girls in the class. “I actually got a selfie from Nikki Thomas at the reception, think she was one of the bridesmaids.”

“YOU got a selfie from one of Jamie-Lee Burke’s bridesmaids?” Yet another girl squeaks, making me grin smugly as I remove my phone from my pocket and show the giggling girls the photograph I was sent on Saturday evening.

“Phones away,” Mr. Jackson, our form tutor, says as he enters the room, causing me to hastily mute and pocket my smartphone before the start of the class. I smile across at the other girls as Mr. Jackson runs through the announcements for the day- I’m certainly going to have a few ‘announcements’ of my own today, the main one being ‘I am now one of the popular girls, and I am going to milk my popularity for all it’s worth!’.

My smile immediately fades, however, when I cast a glance behind me, and am greeted by a look of utter horror on George’s face.

The look of horror persists all throughout the first lesson of the day, even as I try to ignore George and immerse myself in gossip with my ‘new friends’ (even getting a telling-off from the teacher at one point for talking too much!). Fortunately, the second lesson of the day is PE- the only lesson all week where everyone else in the class is female, and I’ll be guaranteed to be George-free for a whole hour. However, as I change into the regulation shorts and t-shirt- alone in my own ‘private changing room’, of course- I can’t help but feel sorry for the boy. For years, I was the only friend he had, and vice versa- and whilst me pulling on a skirt may not have changed that, George getting beaten to a pulp certainly had. I’ve still got Laura and the other girls, and now I have girls in my year almost literally queuing up to be my friend. George, however, has no one…

“Hey, fellow superstar!” Laura squeaks, giving me a tight hug as I- once again clad in my blouse, skirt and tights- arrive at our usual table at the start of break. “Oh, don’t look like that! We ARE superstars, and you know it! Right, girls?” I blush and am forced to grin as the six other girls launch into yet another chant of ‘Superstar’.

“Ooh, she’s smiling…” Harriet teases as me cheeks get even redder. “Would I be right to guess, MISS Moore, that you are now one of the more popular girls in your year?”

“…If not THE most popular,” I mumble, earning rugby tackle-like hugs from the girls on my side of the table.

“You are so cool!” Mia squeaks as she gives me a tight squeeze.

“Excuse me?” Laura retorts with a look of mock offence on her face.

“You are BOTH so cool!” Mia giggles as she drags Laura into our hug.

“SO cool!” Suriya sighs happily. “Wonder if we could persuade that magazine to do an article on supercool Indian girls?”

“You wish!” Priya laughs, giggling as her sister sticks her tongue out at her.

“Ahh, this is SO awesome!” Nicole squeaks as she bounces up and down on her seat. “It’s about time we were THE cool kids again!”

“Oh sure, just steal our fame, why don’t you?” Laura teases, making our friend both blush and giggle.

“I don’t mind,” I shrug as Laura and I are finally released from our scrum, giving me the chance to straighten my skirt and sit down. “It’s nice to FINALLY have people whispering about me for the RIGHT reasons, heh!”

“I bet,” Mia sighs, gently resting her head on my shoulder.

“Did- did you hear back from George?” Megan asks, instantly lowering the mood of the whole table.

“No,” I whisper. “He- he hasn’t spoken to me, only the girls in my class…”

“HIS loss,” Harriet says smugly. “Girls are better than boys, anyway.”

“Yeah, I know,” I sigh. “But-“ Before I can finish my sentence, our table is interrupted by the approach of a group of about eight girls, all of whom look like they’re in year seven.

“Excuse me?” The ‘leader’ of the girl asks. “Are- are you Laura White and Ashley Moore?”

“Hi, yep, yep we are!” Laura replies with a giggle, clearly exciting the younger girls.

“Oh my god!” The year 7 girl squeaks excitedly. “Can- can we get selfies with you, please?”

“Of course!” Laura replies, and before I can argue- not that I would have- I’m pulled into a pose alongside Laura and the younger girl, who takes out her phone and takes a photo of the three of us.

“Me next! Me next!” One of the other younger girls squeaks, and I feel my cheeks start to flush as our six friends break into year another ‘superstar’ chant- which attracts yet more younger girls to our table for selfies, followed by more, until we’re eventually so swamped that we have to turn away a large crowd by the time the bell rings to signify the start of the next lesson.

As I’m walking to my next lesson, I’m suddenly joined by Melissa Jeffries- probably the most popular girl in our entire year. It’s hardly the first time she’s paid any attention to me, though in the past, her ‘attention’ consisted mainly of giggling at me, pointing her finger at me and whispering behind my back… her attitude toward me now- like the attitude of the other girls in my form- is very different.

“Oh my god, Ashley!” Melissa gasps, her eyes as wide as dinner plates. “Were you- were you posing for selfies just now?”

“Maybe,” I reply with a smug grin. “What can I say? I’m a celebrity now, got to be there for my adoring public…”

“Oh my god, you are such a diva!” Melissa says with a snort of laughter. As always, I can’t be 100% sure whether she’s insulting me or complimenting me- but I’ve been on such a high for the last few hours, there’s no reason not to assume it’s a compliment.

“I know,” I say, pulling my thickest and girliest pout for Melissa and her friends, all of whom giggle at me- but in a much different, much friendlier way than they’ve giggled at me in the past.

“Oh, you are SUCH a girl!” Cameron- another member of Melissa’s gang- says with a giggle, which only intensifies when I pull a girlish pose for the gang.

I’m almost bent double in a fit of girlish giggles myself, both at my playing around and at the fact that after fourteen long, LONG years, I am finally being treated as the girl I always longed to be. I’m dressed as a girl. I’ve made-up my face and styled my hair to look like a girl. I speak like a girl, and I’m acting 100% like a girl, and I’ve never felt more comfortable in my own skin… Until I enter my next class and am confronted by another look of horror from my former friend. All of a sudden, I feel VERY self-conscious…

Fortunately, another selfie session at lunch (not to mention the presence and unconditional support of my seven REAL friends) puts me at ease for the rest of the day, and by the time I elegantly slide onto the passenger seat of dad’s car at the day’s end, I have a wide smile on my face- a smile that doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Take it you’re a celebrity now, then?” Dad asks with a sigh.

“I may be one of the most popular girls in school, yes,” I reply, trying not to frown as dad bristles at my use of the word ‘girl’.

“Well, enjoy it while it lasts,” dad sighs. “Because believe me, it WON’T.”

“Ugh,” I spit. “Dad, WHY are you so down on teenaged girls? I mean, you HAVE a teenaged daughter. Ten years from now, you’ll have another three. I’ve got seven friends who are all teenaged girls, and I’m probably going to make more. Bryony, Cassie and Dorothy will all have their own friends too. Whether you like it or not, dad, the next ten years you are going to be DROWNING in teenaged girls.”

“Just- just shut up, okay?” Dad snaps. “And don’t say I didn’t warn you! Because when your fame runs out, Ash, you are going to fall HARD.”

“IF my fame runs out,” I pout as we head to my sisters’ primary school to pick them up, before returning home.

At home, feeling the need to remain as girly as I can, I change out of my uniform into a comfortable black and white striped top and one of my shortest skirts- a look that my sisters (especially Bryony) approve of, but which makes dad frown as I sit down on the sofa, baring most of my hairless thighs to the world. After dinner, I finish my homework, before switching on my tablet computer and logging onto Facebook, finding a group chat already underway.

‘SUPERSTAR!!!!!!!’ All of the girls- Laura included- type as I enter the chatroom, making me reply with a ‘blushing’ emoji.

‘Oh stop blushing,’ Priya types with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji. ‘You ARE a superstar and you know it!’

‘Did I see you walking to class with the most popular girls in your year?’ Nicole asks.

‘Maybe,’ I reply with a ‘winking’ emoji, followed by a ‘giggling’ one. ‘You must’ve been too Laura?’

‘Maybe,’ Laura types, followed by the same emojis as me.

‘Though we already ARE the most popular girls in our year!’ Suriya types. ‘We’re half the cheerleading squad, part of the gym team AND Krystie Fullerton’s star ballerinas!’

‘You said it, girlfriend!’ Nicole types with a ‘cheering’ emoji.

‘It was only girls who asked us for selfies though,’ I type as George once again worms his way into my mind.

‘Well duh,’ Harriet replies. ‘Boys won’t ask for selfies with you two, they’re too stupid, they’ll probably think they’ll ‘catch gay’ or something.’

‘That never stopped me from asking to hang out with you,’ I type.

‘That’s because you’re not a boy!!!!’ Harriet types, making me feel warm inside. ‘Let’s face it, Ash- you were NEVER a boy. And that’s what makes you cool. You AND Laura.’ I smile as I reply with ‘giggling’ and ‘hugging’ emojis, which Laura soon sends through as well.

‘I am gay, though,’ I type with a ‘winking’ emoji. ‘’Gay’ as in ‘lesbian’.’

‘Gay girls rule!’ Harriet types with a ‘kissing’ emoji that I reciprocate.

‘So do straight girls!’ Suriya hastily types.

‘ALL girls rule!’ Nicole types as a separate, private chat window opens- and as Megan is the only other person in the chat, my heart sinks as it’s obvious what- or rather, who- she wants to talk about.

‘Hey Ash,’ Megan types. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve heard anything from George yet?’

‘Nope,’ I reply, earning a ‘frowning’ emoji from Megan.

‘Ugh, that wimp,’ the tall, bespectacled girl types as I feel a pang of guilt in my chest.

‘I didn’t actually message him,’ I type after a long pause. ‘Figured he wouldn’t want to hear from me. I know, I’m a wimp too.’

‘You’re forgiven,’ Megan types with a ‘hugging’ emoji that I happily reciprocate.

‘George still doesn’t talk to me,’ I type with a ‘frowning’ emoji. ‘Guess he hasn’t talked to you since you split up?’

‘Nope,’ Megan types, and much to my surprise follows up with a ‘crying’ emoji.

‘God, Meg,’ I type, followed by a ‘hugging’ emoji that Megan immediately reciprocates. ‘Thought you dumped him?’

‘I did,’ Megan types. ‘But only because he’d become such a moron. He was my first boyfriend, my first proper one, anyway. I miss the OLD George, the one who supported you when you came out. The one who actually went to ballet for two months!’

‘Blame Ryan fucking Reid for that change,’ I type with an ‘angry’ emoji.

‘But Ryan’s gone for good now,’ Megan types. ‘George is safe to hang out with us again, he just chooses not to.’

‘Tell you what- I’ll message him now,’ I type. ‘I promise I’ll send it, I’ll take a screenshot for you.’

‘It’s okay, I believe you,’ Megan types with, at long last, a ‘smiling’ emoji, before leaving the chatroom. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves before opening up another chat window- this time, to George. It’s almost a relief when I see that he’s not currently online, but I’m no less anxious as I type my message.

‘Hey George,’ I type. ‘I really hate that we don’t talk anymore. Can we get together for a chat sometime, face to face?’ I pause before sending the message, wondering whether or not I should add that I’ve also spoken to Megan, but ultimately, I decide to send the message as I’ve typed it, before returning to the main chat window.

‘Six months today!’ Laura types, making me frown as I try to work out what Laura’s talking about, before realising that today is her half-birthday, and in exactly six months’ time, she’ll be sixteen years old- and it’s obvious that she realises the significance of that age.

‘Six months until I can get full oestrogen!’ Laura types with a ‘cheering’ emoji.

‘Six months until something else can get ‘filled’ too!’ Suriya types with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji.

‘Eww!’ Laura replies. ‘Though you’re not wrong!’ The ‘winking’ emoji Laura sends shows that she’s obviously thought about the ‘other thing’ Suriya’s talking about a lot. ‘Though I’m saving myself for someone who WON’T blab to the school like the lying arsehole he is!’

‘To be fair Scott’s been really quiet about that lately,’ Priya types. ‘I suppose it helps that no girl will go near him.’

‘Because he dated a trans girl?’ I ask.

‘Because no girl wants to date someone who boasts to the whole school!’ Priya replies. ‘No matter how fit he is!’

‘And you and me are cute enough that ANY boy would happily date a trans girl!’ Laura types with a ‘giggling’ emoji.

‘Yeah, well, no boy is dating THIS trans girl!’ I type with a smug grin.

‘You go girl!’ Harriet types with a ‘cheering’ emoji. ‘But you know, you ARE fourteen now, you’ll be in year 10 next year…’

‘Okay…?’ I type.

‘What Harriet’s trying to ask,’ Mia types, ‘is whether or not you’ve seen any cute girls you like the look of?’

‘Other than the seven I’m talking to?’ I reply with a ‘winking’ emoji that earns me a barrage of emojis in response- some ‘winking’, some ‘giggling’, some ‘hugging’, some ‘sticking out tongues’… Even a couple of ‘kissing’ emojis from Harriet and Mia.

‘Well whatever you do,’ Laura types, ‘DON’T ask one of us in the year above you to set you up with one of the girls in our year!’

I giggle as the eight of us while away the evening chatting about boys- and in mine and Harriet’s case, girls- before heading to bed. Before I climb into bed, though, I check Facebook one last time to see whether or not George has replied to my message- and much to my disappointment, he hasn’t even read it yet.

My alarm wakes me at the usual time on Tuesday morning, and after eating my breakfast, brushing my teeth and washing my face, I head through to my room where my school uniform is laid out, waiting for me- though before I pull it on, I bite my lip to keep from giggling as I reach into my underwear drawer for a pair of grey school tights and, as I’m feeling extra-girly today, a soft training bra. My giggles intensify, though, as I reach for my final piece of underwear, located inside a packet that has the label ‘ONLY on ballet days’ attached to it by my mother. I giggle as I step into the flimsy thong and pull it up, taking a deep breath as the extra-narrow rear nestles securely between my buttocks and 'holds' the rest of me in place. My training bra and tights soon follow, with my blouse, skirt, blazer and ballerina pumps completing my look.

With my uniform securely in place, I head down to dad’s car, and I’m soon being greeted by my seven friends at the school gate- though thankfully, today the greetings are just the usual hugs, rather than ‘superstar’ chants and being hoisted onto my friends’ shoulders. I am, however, still bombarded by questions from my (female) classmates all throughout form and the first few lessons of the day. Every time I look at George, though, the look of horror he had plastered on his face yesterday is gone- replaced by a look of sadness, and it isn’t hard to guess what’s making him upset.

Nonetheless, George keeps his distance all throughout the first two lessons of the day, and judging by the way Megan’s acting during break, he’s clearly keeping his distance from her as well. I stealthily check my phone before the start of the third lesson to see whether or not he’s replied to my Facebook message (in case he’s more comfortable talking online than face to face), and whilst I’m not surprised to see that he hasn’t replied, I am somewhat surprised to discover that he has actually read the message. I briefly consider sitting next to George to talk during the lesson, but when the teacher arrives, I think better of it, and sit at my usual desk with three other girls. I do, however, make sure to smile in George’s direction at least once during the lesson, to let him know that I genuinely do want to talk to him and repair our relationship.

Lunchtime, however, won’t be the time for us to do that, as today is Tuesday, meaning that it’s also drama club, which is where I spend my lunchtime along with Laura, Nicole, Suriya and Harriet. As we go to leave the large hall, however, I pause when I see an unexpected figure waiting at the door.

“How- how long have you been there?” I ask the tall, bespectacled boy.

“A couple of minutes,” George mumbles. “I, um, I got your message.”

“Okay,” I whisper as the other four girls give us some privacy. “I really do want to talk, George. I- I’ve really missed you. I HATE that we never hang out anymore.”

“You wouldn’t prefer to hang out with Melissa Jeffries, then?” George retorts, making me roll my eyes and sigh.

“She hasn’t been my friend for almost three years,” I say, grimacing as the bell rings to signal the end of lunch. “…We should get to class. But we NEED to talk more.”

“…Yeah,” George whispers, nodding in agreement. “Do- do you want to come to my house after school?”

“…Can’t, I’ve got ballet tonight,” I grimace. “You could come over to mine after ballet, if you’d like?”

“Umm, sure, I guess,” George mumbles as we arrive at class and head to our usual, separate desks. “Ash, umm, I’ve- I’ve kinda, you know, missed you too…” I smile as I sit down, though all of a sudden I feel VERY self-conscious about the thong wedged between my buttocks.

As much as I want to reconnect with George, I AM a very different person from the kid- from the boy that George has known for the past two years. And in truth, I do feel much, much more comfortable hanging out with girls- even superficial ones like Melissa Jeffries- than with boys… But at the same time, a very wise person once said ‘you can never have too many friends’. I don’t want to have to abandon George’s friendship just because I’m now living my life as a girl. I shouldn’t have to abandon his friendship, and as we leave the class and head to the car park for our respective lifts home, I make sure to flash another smile at him before sliding onto the passenger seat of dad’s car, making him grimace yet again as I straighten my skirt and my tights.

“Still ‘famous’, then?” Dad asks.

“Yep,” I reply. “Oh, is it okay if George comes over tonight? After ballet, I mean.”

“George!?” Dad snorts. “You haven’t spent any time hanging out with him in months.”

“I know,” I reply.

“…He is- he isn’t your- your boyfriend, is he?” Dad asks, clearly panicking at the prospect. I briefly consider saying ‘yes’ just to see how he’d react, but I ultimately think better of it.

“No,” I say. “We- I just want to talk to him, to catch up, that’s all.”

“At least you haven’t forgotten who your REAL friends are,” dad says with a chuckle as we pick up my sisters from primary school, before heading back home.

After dinner, I head up to my room, where I smile as I perform my twice-weekly ritual of getting ready for my ballet class. My school uniform comes off, followed by my grey tights, which I replace with a pair of soft, smooth baby pink tights. I reach into my dancewear drawer for a leotard, tonight opting for a short-sleeved one in the hope of 'disguising' it as a t-shirt for when I see George later. Our dance studio is flexible in that girls can wear any style of leotard to class, as long as it's black. As I’m feeling extra girly today (I’m still wearing my training bra), and my feminine ‘disguise’ is flawless, I don’t bother pulling on a dance skirt to cover up- though I do pick out a pair of grey shorts to wear later, when- or rather, if- George comes around. After applying a little mascara and eyeliner, and pinning my hair back with several sparkling hairpins, I grab my dance bag, slip my feet into a pair of girly pink trainers and head downstairs to where my mum is waiting with her car keys- and Cassie is waiting with a hug at the sight of me in my dancewear!

A short while later, I walk through the front door of the Krystie Fullerton School of Dance, where I am, as always, greeted with tight hugs from my seven identically-dressed friends.

“Hey, Ashleyrina!” Suriya squeaks. “Is that a new leotard? You don’t normally wear short sleeved leos to class…”

“I’ve had it a while,” I say as I pose and show off the leotard to my friends. “Just felt like a change today.”

“Huh,” Suriya says. “Well, it DOES suit you.”

“ANY girl’s black leotard suits you!” Laura- who has come to class in a skimpy spaghetti-strapped leotard- giggles. “So do pink tights, pointe shoes and buns- once your hair’s long enough, of course!”

“Reckon it’ll be this time next year,” I say with a grin. “I’ll be a bunhead, same as every other girl here, hehe!”

“Mes filles!” Mademoiselle Renou suddenly shouts, ending our conversation.

“Allons-y!” Priya whispers, making us all giggle as we head into the vast hall.

Ever since December, and the debut of Miss Fullerton and Mademoiselle Renou’s production ‘La Soixante-Troisieme Papillon’, lessons have been slightly different, with our class- already the most advanced one they teach for our age group- being split into two classes, ‘advanced’ and ‘elite’. As I only graduated to pointe shoes a couple of months ago, I’m in the ‘advanced’ class, whilst Laura and Suriya- as two of the soloists from December’s performance- are in the ‘elite’ class, along with Mia (who, it turns out, has been taking ballet for longer than any of us) and Nicole, who almost certainly would’ve been a soloist had she not missed several months of practice after breaking her ankle a few years ago.

After the class as a whole finishes our warm-ups and stretches, we change into our pointe shoes and split into our two separate groups, which particularly pleases me as I find myself stood next to Megan at the barre.

“I spoke to George,” I whisper to my tall friend as we begin our pointe exercises.

“Yeah, Laura told me she saw him after drama,” Megan replies. “Is- is everything okay?”

“I don’t know,” I sigh. “He’s coming over after ballet, we’re going to chat. Hopefully we’ll chat, anyway…”

“Do you know what you’re going to say?” Megan asks.

“Just that I miss him,” I sigh. “I, umm, miss hanging out with him, umm, I didn’t-“

“It’s okay, I’ll try not to get TOO jealous,” Megan teases, before a loud cough from Miss Fullerton ends our conversation.

Just under an hour later, I breathe a sigh of relief as I free my bruised, aching feet from their pointe shoes and slip them back into my soft pink trainers, before unpinning my hair and letting it shake loose- just as many of the other girls in the reception area are doing.

“Hey Ash,” Megan says as she sits down next to me and unties her bun.

“Hey Meg,” I reply.

“Sooo…” Megan says. “Have- have you, you know, heard anything from George yet?”

“Not yet,” I say, making the tall girl sigh. “Honestly, I promise I’ll tell you all the details tomorrow.”

“I know, I know,” Megan moans. “But- do- do you think it’d be best if I came home with you tonight? You know, to do homework…”

“N. O,” I reply, making Megan cringe. “Ugh, Meg, I- I’m sorry, it’s just- it’s kinda, you know, a- well, not a ‘guy thing’, but-“

“Yeah, I know,” Megan sighs. “You know, me and George used to talk a lot about you? About you and Laura?”

“Seriously?” I ask.

“Seriously,” Megan says. “Think about it- I was Laura’s best friend at primary school, George was your best friend in year 7 and year 8. We both had best friends who sudden- sorry, no, not suddenly, but we had-“

“I get it,” I whisper. “Best friends who ‘changed’. And you don’t just mean ‘changed clothes’.”

“Yeah,” Megan says. “Part of why I’ve missed him so much. Laura keeps telling me to go and get another boyfriend… Easier said than done.”

“Even for a six foot tall ballerina with an amazing body?” I ask, making Megan giggle.

“Glad you approve,” Megan says between giggles. “I’m not exactly the cutest girl out of our group, though… No prizes for guessing who all the boys REALLY want.” I follow Megan’s eyeline to where Laura and Suriya are stood untying their severe buns and pulling on the loose, short dresses they’d worn to the dance studio.

“You know,” I mumble. “…Ugh, I shouldn’t really say this- promise you won’t get too angry at George?”

“I’ll try,” Megan says, confused by my sudden hesitation.

“George and I…” I say with a grimace. “We- well, he- WE would sometimes, you know, talk about which of you- of us- which of the group we, you know, fancied the most… Suri usually came top.”

“Oh my god,” Megan gasps, before letting out a loud giggle. “I thought it was just girls who did that!”

“Umm, hello?” I retort, gesturing to my leotard-clad body. “Girl?”

“Oh sure, YOU are,” Megan giggles. “George isn’t a girl though… or is he? Sorry, or is SHE?”

“…I won’t mention you said that when I see him tonight,” I say, making Megan giggle even more as we head to our respective lifts home.

I try to put my friend’s teasing out of my mind as I arrive back home and head up to my bedroom to change, but before I’ve even kicked off my trainers, a knock at the front door makes my heart start to race. I hastily remove my footwear, before pulling on the clingy shorts I’d picked out earlier and skipping down the stairs to the front door, where my old best friend’s distinctive silhouette is clearly visible. I take a deep breath before forcing a wide smile on my face and opening the door.

“Hey George!” I say in a voice far higher in pitch and far (for want of a better word) sweeter than I’d intended to use- and the barely-disguised grimace on George’s face tells me that he’s not exactly happy with it either.

“Umm, hey Ash,” George says, obviously trying not to stare at my soft pink legs… Or the tight shorts covering my bum… Or the skin-tight leotard covering the rest of my body… Or my lightly made-up face.

“Why- umm, do- do you, you know, want to come up to my room?” I ask, biting my lip to try not to blush at the fact that I just invited a boy up to my bedroom.

“Okay,” George mumbles, following me up the stairs.

“Hi George!” Dad yells from the living room.

“Hi Mr. Moore!” George yells back, and I try not to frown at the fact that dad didn’t yell ‘hi’ to me when I returned home…

“Sit down anywhere you want,” I say as I close my bedroom door behind George, before sitting down cross-legged on my bed, again wincing as my thong suddenly rides up between my buttocks.

“…Your room’s changed,” George says as he sits down on the edge of my bed.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I- I love it. My room, I mean… I always wanted a room like this.”

“Always?” George asks.

“Literally as long as I can remember,” I reply.

“It’s REALLY girly,” George mumbles.

“So am I,” I whisper, making George sigh. “God, George…”

“Don’t hug me,” George says hastily. “I- I don’t think I can handle that…”

“God, George!” I repeat, this time more angrily. “What- what happened to us? Twelve months ago you found out that deep down inside, I was a girl. Now I’m a girl on the outside as well. I really didn’t think that it’d be such a problem!”

“I really didn’t think that you’d be THIS girly,” George retorts.

“What, you thought I’d just be like I was, only wearing a skirt instead of trousers?” I snort. “This is who I’ve always wanted to be. The way I was before… I see now that it was just an act, trying to hide who I really was ‘cause- ‘cause I was scared of what would happen if people found out about, you know, the ‘real’ me. Now I don’t need to hide anymore.”

“Oh trust me, ‘hiding’ is the one thing you’re NOT doing!” George scoffs.

“What’s THAT supposed to mean?” I ask. “I’m not going to shrink away into a corner just because I’m transgendered and some people don’t like it!”

“No, you’ll go around splashing your face and your- other bits- in a national newspaper!” George snaps. “And just a reminder, but ‘some people’ include people who want to give you another one of those!” I flinch as George reaches toward my face, flicking my cowlick aside to expose my scar.

“Don’t-“ I retort, before letting out a long sigh. “Okay, maybe you have a point. And I AM sorry that you went through what you did with Ryan Reid, I really, really am. If there was ANY way I could make it up to you, you know I would. Anyway APART from giving up being a girl.”

“That’s just it,” George sighs.

“WHAT’S ‘just it’?” I ask. “George, I am TRYING here! I want us to be friends, just- actually, no. Obviously we can’t be friends just like we were before, ‘cause you think that we’re still two boys who are friends. Well, we’re NOT.”

“You’re doing a good job of making THAT obvious,” George snorts.

“GOOD!” I say. “I DO want us to be friends. But- but as a boy and a girl. Not, like, boyfriend and girlfriend-“

“Good, because THAT’s never happening,” George says, making me roll my eyes.

“Damn right it isn’t,” I spit. “Because I’m not- sorry, I mean, I AM gay.”

“…So you DO fancy boys?” George asks.

“There!” I say, throwing my arms up in frustration. “There’s the problem, George! Never mind everything I’m wearing, never mind my hair, the way I’m sitting, the way I’m speaking, never mind everything about me, you still think I’m a boy.”

“You still have a cock, don’t you?” George asks.

“So does Laura,” I retort. “Is she a boy or a girl?”

“…A girl, obviously,” George mumbles.

“And so am I,” I say defiantly.

“So- so when you say ‘gay’…” George says hesitantly.

“I mean ‘lesbian’,” I say with a confident grin.

“Like the ginger one, what was her name, Harriet?” George asks.

“Yeah, just like her,” I say.

“So- so when we discussed which girls we thought were fit,” George said cautiously, “I mean, if we did that now, talked about which girls we thought were fit-“

“Yeah, I got no problem doing that,” I shrug, making George smile.

“So- so do you, you know, think that Melissa Jeffries is fit?” George asks.

“She’s cute,” I say. “Maybe a bit short- especially for you, Mr. 5’ 11”! But she has to be to be in the gymnastics team, I guess. A bit like Suri, I know she’s REALLY annoyed that she’s only 5’ 1” and probably won’t grow anymore, but it just makes her SO much cuter. Especially in her gym leotard, or her cheer uniform, hehe!”

“Do- do you still fancy her?” George asks. “I’m only asking because when you- well, when ‘boy Ashley’ was going out with her, you seemed like you really liked her…”

“She IS cute,” I say. “And I guess I fancy her a little… I- I’m not really thinking about a girlfriend right now, though. Want to concentrate on actually becoming a girl before getting one, heh.”

“Yeah, I- I’m kinda not thinking about girls either,” George mumbles in a voice that instantly tells me that he’s lying.

“Tell the truth,” I order my friend, who rolls his eyes and sighs. “Do- do you miss Megan?”

“…A little,” George mumbles.

“…She kinda misses you too,” I whisper. “Do NOT tell her I said that, okay? I don’t need to get in any more trouble…”

“I won’t,” George says, his interest clearly piqued by my admission. “She- she really misses me?”

“You were her first proper boyfriend,” I shrug. “And you have a lot in common- your best male friends both became girls.”

“THAT’s true, yeah,” George chuckles.

“See?” I tease. “You’re smiling… Admit it, you HAVE missed hanging out, right? And I don’t just mean with ‘Boy Ashley’. There’s no shame in admitting that you’re lonely, George.”

“…Boys DON’T talk about feelings,” George says firmly.

“I wouldn’t know about THAT,” I say with a playful wink that makes George sigh and chuckle again.

“No, that’s obvious,” George snorts. “…It’s going to be weird, you know? If we’re friends again. Trying to be friends with a girl, but not fancying her…”

“I’ll try not to be TOO hurt by that,” I say. “Even though I DON’T fancy YOU, either!” George laughs as I playfully stick my tongue out at him- though he’s obviously still uncomfortable with my extremely feminine mannerisms.

“…Better a female friend than no friend,” George says.

“Well THAT makes me feel wanted,” I retort.

“Okay, okay,” George sighs, extending his hand toward me. “Friends again?”

“Friends,” I say, shaking George’s hand. “’Mates’ might be going a BIT far, though, hehe!”

“’Friends’ it is,” George says with a laugh. “So… Which girls DO you think are fit?”

“…I’ll get back to you on that,” I say with a giggle as I relax back on my bed and spend the next hour gossiping about school, about our other friends and every topic under the sun that DOESN’T include relationships.

By the time George leaves around an hour later, it’s as though we’d never not been friends. We chatted just as we had every day for the whole of our first two years at school, with no tension or awkwardness despite the fact that I was wearing skin-tight clothing, and I was acting just as girly at the end of our chat as I was at the start. Even if George again refused a hug as his mother arrived to pick him up!

The following morning, I again head into school wearing my ubiquitous blouse, skirt and tights. I am, as always, greeted by hugs from my seven female friends, but when I head into form, instead of sitting at the desk I’ve sat at for the past few months, I drop my school bag underneath the seat next to where my best male friend is sat. I smile and try not to giggle as I sit down on the chair, subconsciously smoothing my skirt underneath me as I do so- an action that briefly causes George to bristle, before he breaks into a grin too.

I sit with George for the first two lessons of the day, too, trying to ignore the reactions of the girls I had been sitting with, who are clearly put out that I would ‘abandon’ them for a boy they consider a ‘loser’. However, I don’t care in the slightest about their reaction- I’m just happy to have my friend back, and if it damages the ‘fame’ that I had, well, as much as it pains me to admit it, dad was right when he said it was never going to last forever anyway.

By the time first break rolls around, I’m almost giddy with excitement- and not just because of my repaired relationship with my friend.

“Sooo…” I tease as George and I head outside. “Coming to the table?”

“Ehh…” George grimaces. “I- I dunno…”

“Ugh, don’t be such a wimp,” I spit, before sighing. “Sorry, sorry… But- you know? Megan WILL want to see you… reckon you’ve got a lot to talk about with her, too.”

“…Okay,” George sighs, grimacing as I giggle girlishly before leading him to our table- though I have to fight my natural instinct to grab his hand, as that might have made us both die of embarrassment!

“Hey girlies!” I squeak excitedly as I approach our usual table. “Room for one more?”

“George!” Megan suddenly exclaims, before blushing a beautiful shade of red at her outburst. “Umm, uh, hi…”

“Hi,” George mumbles, his cheeks also a lot redder than they were seconds earlier.

“Ooh…” Suriya teases. “Think we might need to give the lovebirds some privacy…”

“Shut up,” Megan spits, before blushing even more as the other girls- myself included- break into a chant of ‘Megan’s got a boyfriend’.

“Come on, girlies,” Laura announces as she and the other girls- with the exception of Megan- stand up. “Let’s give them some space!”

“Good luck,” I whisper to George as I follow the other girls to another area of the school, where we spend the rest of break gossiping- and unsurprisingly, the only topic on people’s lips is George and Megan.

As I head toward my next lesson, my heart beats faster when I see George walk toward me- and the wide grin on his face tells me that it clearly went VERY well with Megan.

“Do I get to sing ‘George has a girlfriend’ at you?” I tease my bespectacled friend, who rolls his eyes in response.

“If you want to get pushed down the stairs,” George retorts, making me giggle. “But yes, Megan and I are boyfriend and girlfriend again.”

“Eee!” I squeak excitedly, making George grimace yet again. “This is SO cool! Things are finally getting back to normal… So you’ll be hanging out with us at break and lunch, then?”

“Sure,” George says with a smile. “But more for Megan than for you.”

“Break a girl’s heart,” I spit, before giggling again as we arrive at our next lesson, where George and I again sit together, despite the looks it earns me from the more popular girls in the class.

At the end of the lesson, both George and I have smiles on our faces as we head out of the class, though George’s smile soon changes to a look of confusion as he sees me head into the girls’ toilets, rather than to our usual table.

“…You need a piss before lunch?” George asks.

“Umm…” I grimace. “It’s kinda- kinda going to be just you and Megan at lunch, I reply. Well, you, Megan, Harriet, Mia and Priya, if she’s not on prefect duty.” As if on cue, Laura, Suriya and Nicole arrive at the entrance to the toilets, all wearing smiles on their faces and multi-coloured scrunchies tying their long hair back into tight ponytails.

“Hey gymnashley!” Laura squeaks. “Hey George! Sorry, but WE’RE borrowing Ashley this lunch!”

“And every Wednesday lunchtime, actually!” Nicole giggles. “You’ll just have to settle for your GIRLFRIEND instead, hehe!”

“…I joined the gymnastics club,” I shrug. “Miss Edwards was impressed with how well I did in class, so she invited me to join the club, even though I’m not allowed on the team… Sorry. I’ll see you in maths, okay?”

“Umm, sure,” George says as I’m all but literally dragged into the toilets by the three girls.

The toilets are the same place where I get changed for PE, and they obviously act as Laura’s changing room too when she does PE, but as an ‘act of solidarity’, Nicole and Suriya also change alongside us as we remove our school uniforms and stretch long-sleeved spangled maroon leotards over our bodies. Normally, this action brings a wide smile to my face, but today, I feel especially self-conscious as I make extra sure that the crotch of my leotard is as smooth and flat as those of my friends. The fact that the walkway from the changing room to the gymnasium goes past a window to outside doesn’t help matters. I try to hold my head high as Laura, Nicole, Suriya and I join the other girls outside the changing room, but I still feel the stares of everyone outside burning a hole in my body- and when I look over and see that one of those people is George, I suddenly feel VERY small.

Of course, forty-five minutes of tumbling and dancing helps to ease my anxieties, but as I pull my blouse, skirt and tights back on (over my leotard, like the other girls), I still feel somewhat awkward- not least because I’ll be seeing George in our next lesson.

“Hey,” I say cautiously as I exit our ‘private changing room’ and run into my best male friend- who almost looks like he was waiting for me.

“Hi,” George mumbles, before an awkward silence immediately descends over us- a silence that persists all throughout the final lesson of the day.

It’s only as we’re walking through the car park at the end of the day that my patience finally evaporates, and I turn to confront my friend.

“Why, exactly?” I ask, startling the tall boy.

“Umm… ‘Why’? Why what?” George asks.

“Why the silent treatment?” I sigh. “Things were going SO well, then all of a sudden, boom! Quiet again.”

“It- it’s nothing,” George mumbles.

“No, obviously it ISN’T nothing,” I say. “Is it because you saw me at lunch? WHY did you go there at lunch, anyway? The gymnasium’s nowhere near our table.”

“I- I kinda, umm, kinda needed to see for myself,” George says quietly.

“’See’ what, exactly?” I ask.

“…You,” George whispers. “In- in that, you know, one- one piece thing…”

“It’s called a leotard,” I say, rolling up my sleeve to show George to spangled fabric still clinging to my arm. “Go on, touch it if you’re that curious.”

“I- I dunno…” George whispers.

“It’s not going to magically turn you into a girl if you just touch it,” I say. “If it could, I’d never take it off…” After making sure that no one’s looking, George gingerly reaches out a hand, and with the very tips of his fingers, gently touches the sleeve of the leotard, snatching back his fingers as soon as he makes contact, almost as though the garment had bitten him.

“It- it’s soft,” George mumbles. “And- and smooth…”

“Yep,” I say. “Most of my clothes are.”

“Is- is it, you know… Comfortable?” George asks. “Because it looks kinda tight… You know, when I say ‘tight’, I mean-“

“It is a little ‘tight’,” I mumble.

“Then why wear it?” George asks, but before I can answer, I’m interrupted by the arrival of George’s new- and old- girlfriend.

“Hey you!” Megan giggles, gripping George’s hand in her before rolling her eyes at me. “Ugh, WHY do you girls keep your leos on after gym club? You must be, like, on fire underneath there!”

“…It is a bit warm,” I shrug. “But I’ve had, like, thirteen years of no leos… need to catch up somehow, heh.”

“Aww,” Megan sighs as I lower the sleeves of my blouse and my blazer.

“That’s why I wear it,” I say softly. “Because in a very, very small way… It DOES make me a girl.”

“’The magic leotard’, heh,” Megan giggles.

“I still don’t see how it can be comfortable, though,” George says, earning an eye roll from his girlfriend.

“I’ve got an old long-sleeved leo at home if you want to find out,” Megan says, making me giggle along with her as George reacts like someone just threatened him with a gun. “What? We’re almost the same size, it should fit you… It’d be a little, you know, ‘tight’, though…”

“Yeah, but, you know…” George mumbles, his cheeks quickly reddening.

“We know… What?” I ask, folding my arms. “It wouldn’t magically turn you into a girl, George, we just worked that out, didn’t we?”

“But- but you said-“ George stammers.

“I’m a girl trapped in a boy’s body,” I state. “That’s the only reason it, you know, ‘works’ for me.”

“For anyone else,” Megan says. “It’d just be, you know, a bit of fun. You’re not AFRAID, are you?”

“No,” George instantly replies, before grimacing as he realises exactly what his macho bravado has just agreed to.

“And have you or haven’t you said sometimes that you wished you knew what it was like for Ashley?” Megan asks, making my jaw drop as I grin at my red-faced friend.

“…I wish we hadn’t got back together,” George mumbles.

“No you don’t,” Megan giggles, giving George a kiss on his cheek before cuddling his arm close to her shapely chest in the way that Suriya, Laura and Mia did with my arm on many occasions.

A loud parp from my father’s car horn suddenly grabs my attention, and I grimace as I quickly say goodbye to my friends, before heading over to the car and sliding onto the passenger seat, wondering whether to wince or grin as sitting down causes my tight leotard bunches up into an uncomfortable wedgie.

“You and George are still getting along well, then?” Dad asks.

“Yeah,” I say with a shrug. “Sorry we got chatting a bit…”

“Apologise to your sisters, they’re the one who’ll be wondering where we are,” dad chuckles. “But I’m glad you two are getting along. Is your phone charged up? For when your counsellor rings you, I mean.”

“Yep,” I say. For the last few months, I’ve been having mostly telephone meetings with Dr Williamson, largely as our regular meetings are on Wednesdays, and Megan is right- it IS warm, wearing a leotard under my blouse and my blazer!

After arriving home, I waste no time in stripping off my sweaty uniform (and my leotard), before changing into a loose, comfortable knee-length blue skirt and a girly white t-shirt. I’ve only just finished changing when my phone rings, and a quick glance at the screen confirms that my counsellor is the one calling me.

“Hello,” I say, answering the call.

“Hello Ashley,” Dr Williamson says. “Are you ready to begin our session?”

“Yep, just about,” I say. “I’m alone in my room, got a pen and my exercise book ready.”

“Good,” Dr Williamson says. “Before we begin, did you have a good birthday?”

“I did, thanks,” I reply with a grin. “Everything was great- well, almost everything…”

“Go on,” Dr Williamson urges.

“Well, all my presents were great, they really were,” I say. “I spent Saturday with my friends- my female friends- and my sisters, I really had a lot of fun.”

“Go on,” Dr Williamson says, in a manner that I know really means ‘but?’.

“…Some of my grandparents are still a bit distant,” I sigh. “And dad, he- he’s still having a really hard time accepting me, even after all this time.”

“Well we’ll set your father aside for later in the session, as always,” Dr Williamson says. “Did your grandparents- the ones you describe as distant- make any contact with you for your birthday?”

“Just cards,” I sigh. “One of them even said ‘happy birthday grandson’.”

“I’m very sorry to hear that, Ashley,” Dr Williamson says. “But you do need to persist with them, to let them know that you are not their grandson, and it is not appropriate for them to behave like you are still male.”

“Easier said than done,” I sigh.

“I’m not denying that,” Dr Williamson says. “But you’re six months into your transition. It must be clear to them by now that this isn’t some kind of silly whim, that it IS real, it IS happening and they need to accept it. I’m always happy for you to arrange an appointment for them to see me, if you feel that would help.”

“…Maybe some other time,” I say. “Though they apparently liked the article that came out on Sunday.”

“That was going to be the next thing I asked about,” Dr Williamson says warmly. “I had my doubts over whether it would be in your best interests to take part in the article, but you did come across as very mature. I spoke to Nikki Thomas about the photoshoot too, she commented on how mature you were on the day. You should be proud of yourself, Ashley.”

“Thanks,” I whisper as my own cheeks start to redden.

“I hope it’s made you a few new friends at school!” Dr Williamson chuckles.

“…People are being, well, less hostile than they were before,” I say.

“Good,” Dr Williamson says.

“One of those people is actually George,” I say. “He’s the, umm, the boy I told you about, the one I was friends with back- back before, you know…”

“Ah, yes, I remember you saying,” Dr Williamson says. “You’ve said recently though that you’ve been drifting apart from him, haven’t you?”

“A bit,” I say. “The article’s made me realise that I find it SO much easier to be friends with girls than boys. I just- I just don’t have anything in common with boys, you know… Well, apart from, like, ‘liking’ girls…”

“But you’re still growing closer to George now, rather than further apart?” Dr Williamson asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “He came over last night, after ballet, we got chatting, you know, ‘cleared the air’… We talked a lot today at school too.”

“That’s good,” Dr Williamson says. “And he does recognise you as entirely female, I trust?”

“Yep,” I say. “Think he’s struggling a bit there too, though. He- this lunchtime, he saw me in my gymnastics leotard as I was going to gym club, I think it freaked him out a little. I mean, he sees me in my uniform literally every day, he’s seen me in my ballet uniform before… I reckon he thought that because I wanted to be friends again, it meant I wasn’t going to be a girl anymore, then I go and do something extra-girly like gymnastics.”

“It’s possible,” Dr Williamson muses.

“Then again,” I say, “apparently he’s said to his girlfriend- that’s Megan, one of my girl- one of my female friends- apparently he’s said to Megan before that he’s wondered what it’s like for me. Megan and him are the same height so I reckon she’s going to try to get him to try on some of her clothes to ‘see what it’s like’.”

“Okay,” Dr Williamson says, clearly intrigued by what I said.

“You never know,” I muse. “He might even enjoy it…”

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up too much, Ashley,” Dr Williamson cautions.

“What do you mean by ‘hopes’?” I ask.

“A lot of people experiment with crossdressing in their youth,” Dr Williamson explains. “Either by being dared, or simple curiosity, or any number of other reasons. For some people, it’s just a bit of fun. Some people actively dislike it. And yes, for some, it can become a major- for want of a better word- hobby, or even lead to a genuine desire to transition. But you need to accept that that likely won’t be the case with George.”

“I know,” I say.

“I hope you do,” Dr Williamson says. “I am sometimes worried about the peer pressure you experience from the other girls in your group.”

“I’m not ‘pressured’ into doing anything,” I immediately retort.

“I know you don’t feel pressured,” Dr Williamson says, “and I am 100% convinced that your desire to transition is genuine, I’ll never doubt that, but the truth is that you are a teenaged girl, and your social group consists entirely of other teenaged girls. You’re bound to experience SOME peer pressure. You need to make sure that you don’t buckle under it, and even more importantly, don’t become a source of it either.”

“I won’t,” I say confidently as the conversation moves onto other topics, before wrapping up just over an hour later.

As I hang up the phone, though, I’m forced to confess to myself that there is a part of me that’s excited by the prospect of George experiencing the joys of femininity- and whilst I know I shouldn’t, I am thinking about the possibility of ‘Georgina’ and I walking into school in matching uniforms…

After eating a quick dinner, I return to my bedroom, where I switch on my tablet computer and log into Facebook, smiling as I see that the two people I want to speak to the most are online.

‘Hi Megan and George!’ I type into a new chat window. ‘Or should that be ‘Merge’? Lol, you two have the cutest couples name ever!’

‘Lol,’ Megan types with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji.

‘Want to continue that convo we were having before my dad rudely interrupted me?’ I type with a ‘winking’ emoji.

‘Not really,’ George replies, making me giggle.

‘BOY!’ Megan and I simultaneously type, making me giggle even harder.

‘Honestly, what ARE you afraid of?’ Megan types.

‘I’m not afraid, I just don’t want to do it,’ George replies.

‘I see you talked about this without me then?’ I type with another ‘winking’ emoji. ‘Which is cool, I guess, I mean, it is Merge and not MergeLEY, lol!’

‘You are not calling us Merge!’ Megan types. ‘You make us sound like one of the teams on the apprentice!’

‘Ashley, your team name’s a bladdy disgrace!’ George types, making me roll my eyes. ‘You’re fired!’

‘Don’t change the topic,’ I type with a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji.

‘We did talk about it a little,’ Megan types. ‘Only the BOY’s too squeamish to even consider it!’

‘I just don’t see what good it’d do,’ George types. ‘And I wouldn’t want everyone at school to find out.’

‘Well if you can trust anyone with privacy, it’s us,’ Megan replies. ‘Especially about this.’

‘I can guarantee that,’ I type. ‘And you can’t see what good it’d do, well, I can’t see what harm it’d do.’ Immediately as I send the message, though, Dr Williamson’s earlier words of wisdom immediately spring to mind. I AM subjecting George to peer pressure, I’m that desperate for another friend to love that which I love, when I already have a friend in the exact same situation as me in Laura, and six other amazing female friends… Maybe having a friend who doesn’t idolise all things girly could be a good thing?

‘If you don’t want to,’ I type, ‘we don’t want to forc-‘ Before I have the chance to finish my message, however, George sends through a reply that almost makes me drop my tablet.

‘Okay, fine, if it’ll get you off my back,’ George types.

‘Seriously!?’ Megan types with a ‘wide grin’ emoji.

‘Ashley’s right, it won’t hurt me,’ George types. ‘But I’m only doing this as a bit of fun, like a game, okay?’

‘Sure,’ I type, having deleted my earlier message. ‘Are you sure about this?’

‘No,’ George bluntly replies, earning a ‘hugging’ emoji from his girlfriend.

‘You never know, you might like it,’ I type with a ‘winking’ emoji.

‘That’s what I’m afraid of,’ George types, earning ‘sticking out tongue’ emojis from myself and Megan.

‘I won’t think any less of you if you do like it,’ Megan types. ‘If anything, I think you’re even cooler for agreeing to try it!’ Okay, this is DEFINITELY peer pressure now, I think to myself.

‘So when do you want to do it, then?’ George asks. ‘This weekend?’

‘Nah, we’re having a sleepover this weekend,’ Megan types. ‘And boys are NOT invited to that, BOY!’ Megan’s ‘winking’ emoji lets us both know that this time, ‘boy’ isn’t intended as an insult.

‘Are you doing anything tomorrow night?’ I type.

‘That’s a bit soon, isn’t it?’ George types, his panic clear in his words.

‘Gets it over and done with,’ I type. ‘And we can do it at my house, my sisters are all at ballet tomorrow, mum’ll be busy with Eddy, we’ll have all the privacy we want.’

‘I’ll bring over some clothes I reckon will fit you best,’ Megan types. ‘And yes, that WILL include a leotard!’ George’s ‘sad’ emoji is met with ‘sticking out tongue’s from both Megan and myself.

‘Why did I agree to this again?’ George types.

‘Because you’re a cool, sweet friend who wanted to know what it was like for his best friend,’ I reply.

‘And you want your girlfriend to think that you’re cool!’ Megan types, earning a ‘kissing’ emoji from George that she immediately reciprocates.

‘I’ll leave you two to ‘merge’,’ I type with a ‘winking’ emoji as I leave the chatroom.

As I head to bed, I find myself unusually excited about tomorrow evening. It takes me a while to remember that the last time I was this excited, it was before I myself dressed up for the first time- in a pair of tights that, ironically enough, I couldn’t wait to remove earlier this afternoon. I try to convince myself not to get too excited, that there’s every chance that George will hate the experience, but as hard as try, I can’t conceive of how anyone wouldn’t love to be able to dress up as a beautiful girl- especially when they’re being supported (and loved) by two other beautiful girls.

As I pull on my soft grey tights the following morning, I’m reminded of the first time I wore Suri’s tights, almost three years ago, and how much of a ‘tingle’ it had sent through my body. Much to my delight, that ‘tingle’ is back on force, especially as I straighten the stretchy garment and feel it cling to every square inch of my legs, from my backside right down to the tips of my toes. I hope Megan brings some pairs of tights tonight so that George can experience this…

As always, my seven female friends greet me with hugs at the school entrance, though Megan’s hug feels tighter than usual- and the twinkle in her eye tells me that she’s looking forward to tonight, possibly even more than I am!

The same can’t be said of George, though, as when I sit down next him at form, his face is a mixture of nervous anticipation and outright terror.

“Relax,” I urge my fearful friend. “We’re not going to make you do anything you really don’t want to. We won’t shave anything, we won’t do anything to your hair, we won’t even do any make-up. Unless, of course, you want-“

“No,” George says with a quivering voice. “And keep your voice down, we don’t want everyone hearing about- about tonight!”

“Ugh, seriously,” I spit. “Total privacy! You have my word! We won’t even tell Laura about this.”

“She’s the last person I want you to tell,” George scoffs. “Don’t want her doing to me what she did to you…”

“Okay, seriously,” I say, trying to hide the anger in my voice. “She didn’t do anything to me. This-“ I gesture towards my body, in particular the pleated skirt hanging from my waist. “This is who I was long before I’d even heard of Laura White.”

“Well it’s not who I am,” George spits, making me roll my eyes.

“And how are you going to be sure of that?” I tease.

“Yes, yes, okay, I’ve already agreed to it, haven’t I?” George retorts- and immediately, it’s like I can feel Dr Williamson behind me, barking the words ‘peer pressure’ over and over.

“Just- try to look forward to it, okay?” I say. “If you go into it with the feeling that you’ll like it, you won’t dread it so much.”

“You make it sound like a rollercoaster,” George snorts.

“Oh trust me,” I retort as I stare behind me at the girls who, three days ago, were queuing up to be my friend, but who today- possibly even due to my resume friendship with George- barely even acknowledge my existence. “That’s EXACTLY what it is.”

Unsurprisingly, George remains much quieter than usual for the rest of the day, especially during break and lunch, when he sits at our table getting his arm mercilessly cuddled by Megan. By the time the bell rings to signify the end of the school day, George is practically hyperventilating- which is made even worse when we head downstairs and are greeted by his girlfriend, whose school bag is bulging in an ominous way.

“Stop panicking!” Megan hisses as she once again grabs George’s arm and cuddles it close to her chest. “No one’s going to find out about this!”

“Easy for you to say,” George says, before grimacing as his eyes meet mine. “…Sorry, sorry… but it DID get out about you, before you, you know, ‘confirmed’ it…”

“That’s because there WAS something to ‘get out’ about Ashley,” Megan says. “If there’s nothing to ‘get out’ about you, you have nothing to worry about.”

“…And if there is?” George asks.

“Then you have eight amazing friends who will do literally ANYTHING for you,” I say as we head to George’s mother’s car (there obviously being not enough room in dad’s car with my sisters in there too).

“Thank you for the lift, Mrs. Dixon,” Megan says as she fastens her seatbelt.

“Thanks,” I concur as I sit down and straighten my skirt and my tights.

“Oh, you’re more than welcome Megan, Ashley!” George’s mother replies. “I’m so glad the two of you are George’s friends again, he always seemed so- so sensible when he hung out with you and the rest of your ‘gang’.”

“Mum!” George hisses, clearly embarrassed by his mother.

“What? You are,” Mrs. Dixon replies. “None of this acting like a macho idiot like your older brothers. Though I suppose that wouldn’t really go over well with you in particular, Ashley…”

“Not ALWAYS,” I reply with a smile. “But not, you know, not NEVER either…”

“Well either way, you’re both positive influences on George, and that’s what matters most,” Mrs. Dixon says with a proud smile. “Megan, are you going to be a prefect next year?”

“Hopefully,” the bespectacled girl answers. “I’ve put my name forward for it, reckon I’ll get it. Laura and Suriya have too. Nicole and Mia don’t want to be prefects and Harriet’s had some disciplinary issues, so it’ll probably be just the three of us.”

“And then George and Ashley the following year!” Mrs. Dixon says, which even makes me blush.

“Mum!” George snaps, which only makes the older woman laugh at her son’s embarrassment as we speed toward my house.

After letting myself in and finding the house deserted, I giggle excitedly, before leading Megan and George up to my room, where George grimaces as Megan opens her school bag to reveal the treasure hidden within.

“Say hello to your new wardrobe, MISS Dixon!” Megan giggles as George looks more and more embarrassed. “I’ve got one skirt, one tank top, one summer dress, a few pairs of tights and oh yes- one long-sleeved ballet leotard!”

“So…” I tease. “Where do you want to start?”

“With our homework,” George says, earning boos from Megan and myself.

“You’re just delaying the inevitable…” I coo in a sickeningly sweet voice that actually makes George shudder.

“Do I REALLY have to wear the tights too?” George sighs.

“YES!” Megan and I reply simultaneously.

“I am going to feel so, so stupid,” George sighs as he tentatively reaches toward Megan’s skirt, stroking the fabric almost as though he’s testing to see whether or not it will hurt him.

“You won’t know for sure until…” I coo. “Want us to give you some privacy?”

“Duh,” George says, making Megan and I giggle as we leave him alone in the bedroom.

“God this is so weird,” I say, giggling as Megan looks at me with a look of confusion on her face. “Being on THIS side of the door.”

“Hehe,” Megan giggles. “You know, Laura used to say the same thing when it was you in there?”

“Hehe,” I reply. “Can you believe that George actually thinks Laura is responsible for ‘corrupting’ me into a girl? Like, I’d still be a boy if not for her?”

“…Be fair, he might have a point,” Megan says with a sympathetic smile. “Would you have had the courage to come out to your parents if Laura hadn’t, you know, ‘paved the way’?”

“…Probably not,” I say, before bursting into a fit of giggles. “Do NOT tell George that he was right, though!”

“Oh, trust me, I won’t!” Megan giggles. “But there’s no way Laura put the idea of being a girl into your head- I can tell just by looking, Ash, that you are absolutely, positively, 100%, totally GIRL!”

“ALL girls rule!” I cheer, exchanging a playful high five with my tall friend as a knock comes from my bedroom door to let us know that we can reenter.

As the I open the door, I have to bite my lip to keep myself from giggling as I’m confronted by the sight of George with Megan’s tank top (which is obviously too small for him) stretched over his torso, and her short black skirt hanging from his hips.

“…I feel stupid,” George moans as Megan and I enter the room and quickly shut the door behind us.

“No, no, you look- you look good,” Megan says as she sits down next to George and adjusts his clothes.

“Kinda cute, actually,” I say, earning a foul stare from George- and surprisingly, from Megan as well. “Sorry…”

“How does it feel?” Megan asks. “APART from ‘stupid’!”

“…Soft,” George admits. “It- it’s not really, you know, comfortable, though…”

“Try on the tights,” Megan says. “That might make it better.”

“I doubt it,” George says as he’s handed a pair of the translucent legwear, staring at it with confusion.

“Oh, okay, fine,” Megan sighs, hiking up her skirt and removing her own black tights. “Here’s what you do. Roll up one leg, so it’s kinda like a donut…”

“Okay…” George says, copying Megan’s actions with his own tights.

“Then,” Megan continues, “point your toe and put it into the ‘donut’.”

“Right…” George says, shivering as his foot makes contact with the soft nylon.

“Next, stretch it up your leg until it’s just over your knee,” Megan says, giggling as George follows his instructions and shivers again. “Now repeat with the other leg.”

“This feels REALLY weird,” George complains.

“Probably because you have hairy legs,” I say, shrugging as Megan and George give me another foul look. “What?”

“Don’t listen to her, George,” Megan says, making me frown. “Some girls like hairy legs!” George smiles as he and Megan stand up and finish pulling on their tights- and George actually smiles as he emulates Megan in smoothing them over his legs.

“This actually feels kinda nice,” George muses. “Umm, do NOT tell anyone I said that, okay?”

“Our lips are sealed,” Megan says, putting an idea in my head. “Right, Ashley?”

“Our lips are absolutely STUCK together,” I giggle as I reach into my dresser drawer and produce a tube of my brightest, reddest lipstick. “We won’t tell anyone about this, either…”

“No, no thanks!” George says. “Besides, you’ve worn that before, it’d be kinda like we kissed if we share lipstick, isn’t it?” I smile as, once again, Dr Williamson’s cry of ‘peer pressure’ pops into my head.

“Meh, it’s okay,” I shrug. “You’ve already proved you’re, like, a MILLION times cooler than most boys by just wearing what you are!”

“Hell yeah!” Megan cheers as she gives the blushing George a tight hug, before stroking his nylon-covered thigh.

“Well if you’re not going to wear it, SOMEONE has to!” I giggle as I pop the cap off the lipstick and apply it to my mouth, making George and Megan laugh as I pout at them with my new scarlet lips.

“Am I really playing dress-up with two girls?” George asks with disbelief, making myself and Megan giggle as she helps herself to my lipstick.

“Admit it, you’re having fun, right?” I ask, before pouting again.

“…Actually…” George grimaces. “I’m kinda- kinda not. I- I’m sorry, I’m really sorry- like, to you, Ashley. I know how much you enjoy this, but-“

“It’s okay,” I say with a bright red smile as I try to hide my disappointment. “Really, it is.”

“You’re sure?” George asks. Not really, I think to myself. But if you’re okay with me being a girl… I guess I can be okay with you being a boy.

“Of course,” I half-lie. “It just means you’re lucky, that’s all.”

“…Lucky?” George chuckles.

“Yeah,” I say. “It just means that you actually WERE born into the correct gender!”

“Aww,” Megan sighs. “You two are SUCH good friends…”

“Yeah,” George says as I smile sadly.

“Do- do you reckon we’d have been friends if, you know, I was a girl from the start?” I ask. “Like, from birth, or even from the start of year 7, like Laura?”

“…To be honest, I doubt it,” George says, making me frown. “But I am glad we’re friends now. I wouldn’t have got Megan if we weren’t friends.”

“’Got’ me,” Megan snorts, punching George on the arm, before surprising him with a long, wet kiss on his cheek that leaves a very noticeable red smudge!

“…I’m glad we’re friends too,” I say, sitting down on the other side of George.

“Girl or not, if you kiss me, I WILL punch you,” George says, making me giggle uncontrollably. “Can I PLEASE change out of these clothes now?”

“Sure, sure,” I giggle. “Don’t- don’t worry about trying on the leotard. You’ve earned your ‘cool points’ for the year!”

“Thanks,” George mumbles as Megan and I prepare to leave the room.

“Just dump the clothes back in my bag once you’re done with them,” Megan says. “And don’t tear my tights taking them off!”

“Will do,” George says, before knocking on the door a few minutes later to let us know that he is, once again, dressed in his regular, boring, boy’s uniform.

“NOW we can do homework,” I giggle as I sit down, my knees pressed tightly together, and get my school books out of my bag.

About an hour later, dad returns home, accompanied by my three sisters, all of whom are dressed in their tiny ballet uniforms. Megan, George and I decide that this is our cue to finish our homework and head downstairs for dinner, though it’s only when dad’s eyes go wide when he sees the three of us that I remember I’m still wearing my lipstick… And George still has a tell-tale red smudge on his cheek.

“You three had ‘fun’, then?” Dad snorts.

“Umm- uh- yeah…” George mumbles, hastily rubbing the mark on his cheek.

“God, George, I don’t know how you put up with it,” dad sighs.

“I don’t mind,” George shrugs with a smile. “I- I like hanging out with girls. Girls are cool. Most of the time.”

“Girls rule!” Megan and I cheer- a cheer that my three sisters are only too happy to join in with!

“Well, better you than me,” dad sighs. “Come on, I’ve got us all takeout. Assuming that isn’t too fatty or whatever for supermodels, or actresses, or dancers?”

“It had better not be!” Cassie squeaks, making all of us- dad and George included- giggle as we head through to the living room for our dinner.

After dinner is over, George’s mother returns to pick up her son and his girlfriend, and I bid the two farewell- George first with a handshake, followed by Megan with a hug, though before the tall girl goes, she pauses briefly to talk to me.

“We’ll see you tomorrow night at the sleepover, right?” Megan asks.

“Duh,” I retort, making my friend giggle. “Still can’t believe it’s Priya’s last day tomorrow, just won’t be the same without her. It’ll be even worse next year when you and the girls in your year leave.”

“Aww,” Megan sighs, giving me another hug. “At least you- at least WE will still have George.”

“Yeah,” I say. “But as we found out tonight, I can’t swap fashion tips or make-up with George!”

“If you say so,” Megan shrugs with a knowing smile.

“Go on…” I say.

“Well I’m not saying ANYTHING,” Megan says. “But all I know is that I brought three pairs of tights with me tonight… And I’m only taking TWO home. I didn’t miscount them, and obviously you don’t have any need to steal tights, which means…”

“…Which means we keep quiet about it and not let on that we know, right?” I say, giggling as Megan replies with a simple wink.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, GIRL!” Megan giggles, hugging me again before leaving me with my thoughts.

Whether or not George did steal the tights, it doesn’t matter- all I know is that I’m glad he’s my friend again, male, masculine idiot or not. My ‘fame’ from earlier in the week being almost completely gone by Friday is a small price to pay to have my REAL friend back- one George is better than a hundred Melissa Jeffries who only want to be my friend because they think I can make them famous somehow. And, of course, it also makes dad happier- not that I care too much about THAT, of course.

Dad’s insistence that George is my only ‘real’ friend is wrong, of course, as is proven on Friday night after ballet, when I return to Priya’s home with the seven other girls for the sleepover. Even though it’s not my first sleepover, I still treasure every second of it- especially as with Priya going to college next year, she’ll make new friends, meaning our ‘excellent eight’ will inevitably drift apart, or gain new members, such as mine and Nicole’s sisters, who will start at our school in September.

But for now, I can sit back and enjoy what my life- my 100% girly life- has to offer. It doesn’t matter if it’s a fancy tutu, or a photoshoot, or a tight gymnastics leotard or a tube of red lipstick- or even if it’s just the company of my very best friends. I am Ashley Natalie Moore. I am a girl. I am unquestionably one of THE girls. My life has never been girlier… And I’ve never been happier.