“Happy birthday dear teenager…” Mum yells in my ear, startling me into awakeness as the sun streams through my bedroom window. “Happy birthday to you!”

“Mum!” I tiredly moan into my pillow. “What time is it?”

“8am,” mum says. “Which means that you’ve only been thirteen for 8 hours and already you’re acting like a stereotypical teenaged girl!” I chuckle as mum whips the covers off of my nightie-covered body and dumps a LOT of presents besides my hairless legs.

“Thanks,” I say, giving mum a quick hug as I look over my gifts. Though it’s not just the gifts I’m thankful for- I’m thankful to mum, to grandma, even to God for being given the opportunity to simply BE a stereotypical teenaged girl, after everything I’ve gone through over the last twelve months.

After taking my morning pee- and my trusty boy-blocker- I cart my presents downstairs, where I thank mum profusely after opening every single one. Everything in my present pile is either fashion or beauty related- I’ve got skirts, dresses, funky tights and accessories, even a pair of sparkly sandals with a very high- almost 3 inch- heel. I’ve got loads of make-up, including several different shades of eye shadow, and several bottles of multi-coloured nail polish as well. Fashion books and ballet books and DVDs complete my pile, and after giving mum yet another hug, I sit back amongst my presents and breathe a long, contended sigh. I am in teenage girl heaven… And just a few short months ago I was in pre-teen boy hell.

After dad was sentenced to 7 years in prison for my kidnapping, it was like a weight was lifted from my shoulders, and I could finally live my life the way I always wanted without constantly having to watch my back. When I returned to school in September in my brand-new grey pleated skirt and stretchy grey tights, I was given a hero’s welcome- or rather, a heroine’s welcome. My ordeal gained me a great deal of fame… but I’d happily trade in all the fame in exchange for not going through what I did. I still have regular nightmares where I’m trapped in the darkness, with dad shouting and me, yelling at me, and no one coming to my rescue… And every time I hug anyone, even mum, I get an electric shock of tension down my spine as it always reminds me of the Sunday afternoon I was so cruelly ripped away from my life. The only person with whom I don’t get this feeling is grandma, and even with her I can’t hold onto a hug too long…

“Happy birthday teenager!” Grandma says as she arrives, greeting me with a big hug and an armful of presents that I eagerly open- more clothes, more make-up (that, of course, comes with a warning not to wear too much at once) and more dance and acting related stuff.

“Thank you so much for all my gifts, this is the best birthday ever!” I gush, giving mum and grandma yet more hugs after changing into a new black denim skirt, translucent black tights and a clingy long-sleeved top.

“I don’t know, last year’s takes some beating!” Mum jokes.

“What time are your friends getting here?” Grandma asks.

“In about an hour,” I say.

“I’ll be sure to be out of your hair by then,” grandma chuckles.

“Oh- no, you don’t have to go, really…” I say.

“Nonsense,” grandma insists. “No teenaged girl wants their old grandma hanging around the place when their friends are here. Besides, I’ll have you all to myself tomorrow, won’t I?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say. I know I SHOULD want grandma to go so I can enjoy my time with my friends… But a very large part of me wishes that she could stay just a little while longer. Sure enough, when my friends arrive a short while later, grandma has left, and whilst that makes me sad, the infinite cheerfulness of my friends just about makes up for it.

“Happy birthday 13 year old Laura!” Nicole squeaks, giving me a tight hug and thrusting a birthday card into my hands. “If you’re wondering about your present… Priya and Suriya are bringing that!”

“Oh?” I ask, intrigued by the cryptic nature of Nicole’s message.

“Yeah, we sorta clubbed together to get you something big rather than get you a small gift each,” Nicole says. “I KNOW you’ll love it!”

“I already do!” I giggle happily as we sit down on the sofa and I start showing off my presents. Megan and Harriet arrive shortly afterwards, both greeting me with cards and hugs, before Priya and Suriya arrive just before 10:30, bringing a small, carefully-wrapped package with their cards and hugs.

“Happy birthday, fellow teenager!” Priya laughs as she hands me the package- which I can immediately tell contains an item of clothing.

“Thank you, ‘fellow teenager’!” I giggle as Suriya rolls her eyes- it can’t be easy being the youngest, especially as I’m fairly sure she’s the only one amongst us who hasn’t started puberty. Well, only one of the genetic girls, anyway…

“Unwrap it! Unwrap it!” Megan squeaks as I make a show of looking at the elaborate wrapping paper- which makes my friends all groan with frustration.

“Open it!” Harriet shouts, and I finally burst out in giggles and tear off the paper, gasping at the sight of what’s inside.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, holding the dress aloft. And it truly is- it’s clearly hand-made rather than store-bought, in a dusky pink fabric that seems to sparkle in the sunlight. It has thin straps, and when I hold it against my body, comes to a couple of inches below my knees.

“It’s probably a bit big for you now,” Priya explains, “but you’ll grow into it soon enough.” I smile, but inside, I’m unhappy- as beautiful as the dress is, it’s just a reminder that whilst my friends are ‘developing’ my only choices are ‘develop into a man’ or ‘don’t develop at all’. Despite being the second oldest of the girls, I’m the second shortest, and once Suriya (the current shortest) ‘develops’, I’ll be physically left behind.

“It’s so gorgeous,” I gush. “Thank you so much!”

“Try it on!” Megan laughs. “I want to see how it looks on you!” I giggle as I take the dress upstairs to change into it. Sure enough, one I’ve stepped into it, I can tell that even if the buttons on the back were fastened, it’d be too big- but not by much, and as I step downstairs, holding the dress to my chest, I’m greeted with hoots of approval from my friends.

“Gorgeous girly girl!” Nicole squeaks as I ‘model’ the dress.

“You are GORGEOUS,” Harriet concurs.

“Where did you even get this dress?” I ask. “I can’t see any tags in it…”

“From an online store,” Priya explains. “It’s actually the one run by Nikki Thomas’s girlfriend, figured you’d appreciate that!”

“I do, thank you all so much!” I lift my arms to allow Priya and Suriya to fasten the buttons on the back of the dress, and whilst it’s still a bit too big- especially around the chest- I feel like a prom queen as I swish around the room in the beautiful garment.

“Best birthday ever!” I squeak, giving all of my friends hugs as they coo over the dress. I keep the dress on through a light lunch, before changing back into my skirt and top out of fear of wrinkling the dress. Unlike last year’s ‘fashion party’, my party doesn’t have a specific ‘theme’ beyond ‘teenaged girl hanging out with her friends’, so the six of us while away the rest of the day watching some of my new ballet DVDs (taking the opportunity to recreate some of the steps, of course) and experimenting with my new make-up and nail polish.

I’ve just applied a liberal amount of eyeliner and glossy red lipstick to my face when a knock comes from our door. Worried that it might be grandma- who would undoubtedly tell me off for my make-up- I open the door, only to be surprised by who is actually on my doorstep.

“Ph-Phil?” I ask, my heart suddenly beating faster.

“Hi Laura,” Phil says nervously as his celebrity sister giggles in the background. “Hi, um…”

“Happy birthday?” Victoria says, barely suppressing her laughter.

“Oh, um, happy birthday,” Phil says, handing me a small gift. “You, um, you look nice…”

“Thanks,” I say nervously. “You shouldn’t have, really, I didn’t get you anything for your birthday last month…”

“Well, um,” Phil stutters.

“Phil’s trying to say that he has a rich older sister who doesn’t mind lending- LENDING- him some money for a small gift,” Victoria chuckles. “Go on, open it!” I smile as I tear open the gift to find a small brooch in the shape of a ballerina.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, my cheeks burning. “Thanks…”

“Thanks…” Phil repeats absent-mindedly, his own cheeks flushed. We pause for a brief second, before I lean in and give Phil a kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a very noticeable lipstick mark!

“Ooooooh!” I hear my five friends squeak behind me, making mine- and Phil’s- cheeks burn even more.

“Um, do you- do you want to come in?” I ask.

“No…” Phil says embarrassedly, making me frown disappointedly.

“What the idiot means,” Victoria giggles, “is that he’d love to come in, but we need to get home so can’t stay, I’m afraid.”

“Yeah,” Phil laughs nervously. “I’ll, um, I’ll see you later…”

“Yeah,” I giggle. “See you later, Phil…” I keep giggling until the front door is closed, at which point my friends all burst out into song.

“’Laura’s got a boyfriend…’” They all sing, furthering my embarrassment.

“No I DON’T,” I plead, though deep down… I kinda wish I did, and I genuinely wish that that boyfriend was Phil. He is funny, and friendly… and cute…

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Priya laughs. “You’re thirteen now, I mean, I’M thirteen and I have a boyfriend…”

“Who you’re never even so much as kissed!” Suriya teases her sister.

“I’m playing hard to get,” Priya says, sticking her tongue out at the giggling Suriya. The conversation quickly descends into a discussion about boys- Priya’s boyfriend, Phil- ‘my boyfriend- and all the various cute and popular boys in years 8 and 9 at our school. Even though grandma isn’t here, at 5pmthe six of us (plus mum) sit down for a traditional special birthday meal that leaves me feeling so bloated I can barely move. After my friends depart a little while later, I head upstairs to my room and open my make-up drawer, pulling out a tiny bottle of pills. A quick search on Google a while ago revealed that laxatives were a way to fend off the symptoms of bloating- and keep one’s weight down- so I’ve been taking the odd pill now and again, not after EVERY meal, but after every one that made me feel bloated or fat (maybe 2 or 3 times a week). Of course, the pill does have some ‘unpleasant side effects’, but they (literally) pass by the time I get into bed.

“Did you enjoy your birthday?” Mum asks once I’m snuggled under my warm sheets in my cute blue nightdress.

“Yeah,” I say with a smile. “Thank you, thank you so much for everything!”

“I saw you and Phil at the door,” mum says. “When he gave you that brooch, and you gave him that kiss…”

“…Yes?” I ask with fake innocence.

“I guess eventually I am going to have to give you ‘the talk’,” mum sighs. “God knows, when I was thirteen, I was obsessed with boys most of the time…”

“Too much information!” I giggle. “Besides, it’s not like we haven’t had sex education classes at school… I know ‘what goes where’. Even though I technically don’t have any ‘where’…”

“And even if you did, it’d be off-limits for AT LEAST another three years!” Mum snorts.

“Assuming I’ll be ALLOWED to have a girl’s puberty by then…” I sigh, making mum smile sadly.

“Talk about it with Doctor Williamson when you see her on Friday,” mum says, turning out my light. “Good night, Laura- my beautiful teenager!”

“Night,” I say with a smile, huddling under my sheets.

“Hey Laura!” Phil says, running up to me in a very handsome-looking shirt and jeans. “Are you ready?”

“Ready!” I say, smoothing my short party dress. I stare into Phil’s eyes and my heart begins to beat faster, my entire body begins to glow with a tense energy, and the two of us lean in to each other, our lips meeting…

I awake with a gasp and take several deep breaths to slow down my racing heart. That dream was VERY different from the ones I’m used to having…

I lay awake for about an hour before the sound of mum moving about downstairs prompts me to bed out of bed, have a quick wash and take my boy-blocker, before pulling on my new fuchsia-coloured dressing gown and slippers and padding downstairs.

“Morning teenager!” Mum teases as I sit at the breakfast table.

“Are you going to say that EVERY morning?” I sigh.

“No, I’ll probably stop once you’ve turned twenty,” mum giggles. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“I’m not really hungry, just juice will be fine,” I say as mum pours me a tall glass of orange and grapefruit juice. “What time’s grandma coming round?”

“Just after ten,” mum says. “Why, did you miss her yesterday?”

“A little,” I confess. “Wonder what she’d have thought about ‘the kiss’!” Mum and I both giggle as I finish my light breakfast and change into my outfit for the day, a knee-length purple dress over translucent dark tights.

“There’s my teenaged granddaughter!” Grandma says, opening the front door and giving me a big, welcome hug.

“Am I going to have seven whole years of that?” I giggle. “Novelty’s got to wear off eventually, surely…”

“Well it certainly wore off with your brother quickly enough,” grandma chuckles as she sits down on our sofa. “It was like the day he turned thirteen he was chasing after girls like a bloodhound, obsessing over guns and cars… Not much has changed!”

“Meanwhile,” mum teases, making me cringe. “Laura’s obsessing over make-up, clothes and dancing, and she’s certainly being chased by boys, one of whom may even have caught her…”

“Phil is not my boyfriend!” I plead, but mum and grandma’s chuckling tells me that my arguing is in vain.

“Pity, he looks like such a nice kid,” grandma teases.

“Laura certainly thinks so, with the lipstick mark she left on his cheek yesterday…” Mum teases, making me bury my (make-up free) face in a cushion and scream with embarrassment.

“Oh, don’t be so coy!” Grandma teases. “Nothing out of the ordinary about a teenage girl being obsessed with boys, you know!”

“Even though you wouldn’t KNOW I was a teenager to look at me,” I sigh.

“Oh yes, I know THAT angst as well,” grandma chuckles, and it’s mum’s turn to cringe this time. “How does it go again? ‘I must, I must, I must increase my bust!’”

“I developed eventually!” Mum sighs. “You will too, Laura.”

“Not without ‘exterior help’ I won’t,” I moan.

“By which I hope you mean those pills you’re taking, and NOT implants,” grandma says.

“Even THEY don’t contain oestrogen,” I moan. “They just stop my body from producing testosterone…”

“Well once you’re old enough, the doctor WILL prescribe oestrogen,” mum says.

“Yeah,” I sigh. “But by then all my friends will be women, and I’ll still be a girl…”

“Stop being in such a hurry to grow up!” Grandma scolds me. “You’ve only just become a teenager, stop being so desperate to become an adult!” Knowing when I’m told off, I nod- but I’m still very obviously unhappy.

“We’ll talk about it with Dr Williamson on Friday,” mum says. “Now, who wants nibbles?”

“That sounds lovely,” grandma says with a smile. “Laura?”

“Yeah,” I say, though out of all the parts of my body that I want to expand, my waistline is at the BOTTOM of the list…

However, I eat my big, filling lunch- and, thankfully, a light dinner, meaning I don’t have to take a laxative- I finish off the homework I didn’t do yesterday (obviously, I’m not going to work on my birthday) and head to bed, relaxed and ready for the week ahead.

The following morning, I have a smile on my face as I wash, eat a light breakfast, take my boy-blocker and pull on my trusty school uniform (even if my tights feel tighter than usual around my waist). When I arrive at the school gate, I am, as usual, greeted with hugs from my five friends, all of whom are still buzzing after my ‘party’, but I also get waves and ‘hi’s from most of the other kids at school, up to and including the 16 year olds. With all the publicity I got from my ordeal in August, everybody in school now knows my name, and it’s like everybody wants to be my friend. All my friends, of course, are loving being in the ‘popular clique’- especially Megan and Priya, who’ve never been what you’d call ‘popular’. Virtually every break or lunch, we get other kids (usually year sevens or other year eights, sometimes a few year nines) hanging around near our table as those our popularity will somehow ‘rub off’ on them.

This particular lunchtime, however, is different, as it’s the first day of the new school year for signing up for the various extra-curricular clubs. Obviously, Nicole, Harriet, Suriya and I sign back up for drama club- which puts a huge smile on the face of Mrs. Ingram- before Nicole, Suriya and I head straight for dance club. When Priya attempted to sign up for it last year, she complained that she felt left out as all the other girls there were experienced dancers who could dance en pointe, and whilst Nicole, Suriya and I aren’t there yet, we won’t feel left out if we all stick together. On the way, the three of us pass the sign-up area for the cheerleading team, where we stare at the ultra-slim, ultra-girly girls who'll soon be cheering on the school's sports teams. Sadly, the club is only open to girls in Year 10 or above... But two years from now, I'll be there.

Before we head to our next class, there’s just enough time to sign up for one more club, so with a devilish smile on my face, I lead Nicole and Suriya to the gym, where Mrs. Hall- our PE teacher- is holding sign-ups for gymnastics club.

“Laura,” Nicole cautions. “Are you sure? The club can be a little intense, and you know you wouldn’t be allowed on the school team…” I simply smile knowingly at Nicole’s uncharacteristic pessimism.

“It’s no more intense than what we do at ballet,” I say. “What, are you afraid of the competition?” Nicole giggles and rolls her eyes as I write my name on the sign-up list.

“No, it’s not THAT,” Nicole overdramatically sighs. “It’s just… I dunno, you’ve never done gymnastics before…”

“Neither have I,” Suriya says, also writing her name on the sign-up sheet. “I think someone’s maybe a little jealous?”

“Oh- shut up!” Nicole giggles, writing her name underneath mine and Suriya’s. “Okay, you’ll both be awesome, girly gymnasts!” The three of us all giggle as Mrs. Hall hands us our long-sleeved purple leotards that we’ll all be wearing at the club, and- for Nicole and Suriya, at least- in PE lessons where we do gymnastics.

“Mrs. Hall,” I say cautiously, “I- I will be allowed to wear the leotard in PE lessons, won’t I?” Mrs. Hall simply chuckles at my hesitation.

“Yes, Laura, you’re no different than any of the other girls, no matter what anyone says,” Mrs. Hall says, warming my heart. “In fact, as Nicole will tell you, you’re not only allowed to wear the leotard, but it’s mandatory that you wear it!” I grin as I carefully fold the bright garment and place it in my bag, where it stays for the rest of the day before I get in mum’s car for the drive home.

“Good day?” Mum asks.

“Yep,” I say with a giggle, unzipping my bag. “Afraid I might have a bit more uniform for you to wash each week…” Mum coos happily as I hold up my new leotard for her to see.

“Very pretty,” mum says. “When’s your first lesson?”

“Tomorrow,” I reply, putting away my leotard.

“Guess I’m going to be doing some ironing tonight,” mum sighs, and I giggle as we drive home. After finishing my homework I opt for an early night so I’m refreshed and ready for school- and my first gymnastics lesson- tomorrow, and when I get up on Tuesday morning, after pulling on my school uniform, I carefully pack my new leotard at the top of my bag. When I arrive at school (to be greeted by the usual round robin of hugs), I open up my bag to show the girls the leotard, only to giggle happily as Nicole and Suriya also open their bags to show off their new leotards.

“So cute!” Harriet squeaks happily, gently stroking the stretchy fabric of my leotard. I bristle slightly as Harriet reaches into my bag to pull the leotard out, mindful that the last time Harriet took a leotard out of my bag, it didn’t end well for anyone, but this time there’s no malice in her eyes- the only negative feeling she has is envy that she doesn’t have a similar leotard of her own.

However as I stretch the clingy leotard over my body ahead of my gymnastics lesson, I feel a tingle of sadness. In the eyes of many, like my friends and my teachers, what Mrs. Hall is true- I’m no different from any of the other girls- but the fact remains that the other girls are all getting changed in the changing room, whilst I’m getting changed in the PE teacher’s office. When I step out of the office, I’m greeted by Nicole and Suriya in their leotards and a couple of other girls from the gymnastics club, who are also wearing their club leotards.

“So jealous!” Harriet says, stroking the sleeve of my leotard whilst wearing the same type of shorts and t-shirt I wore last year. Once the lesson is started, we ‘leotard-wearers’ are separated from the rest of the group to learn slightly more advanced stuff. Suriya and I- as the only newbies in the ‘leotard group’, are partnered with other, more experienced girls to help get us up to speed.

“You’re really flexible,” Carley- my ‘buddy’ for the lesson- says as she watches me perform my stretches. “You’d never be able to tell that you were- well, you know.”

“Thanks,” I say with a giggle. “Fourteen months of ballet kinda helps there!”

“Oh cool,” Carley says. “Whose school do you go to?”

“Krystie Fullerton’s,” I say with a smug smile that only widens as Carley’s jaw drop.

“No way!” Carley gushes. “You know everyone calls you and your group the ‘Little Angels’, right? Well, they’re right!”

“I don’t mind the ‘Angel’ bit,” I giggle. “The ‘Little’ bit, on the other hand- not so fond!” Carley and I giggle as we work hard throughout the lesson, but what she said sticks in my mind- I’m really flexible ‘for someone who used to be a boy’. As I strip off my leotard at the end of the lesson and pull my uniform back on, it only drives it further home that I will always be ‘one of the girls- but who used to be a boy’, but when I remember Nikki Thomas’s advice from earlier in the year, I smile. When I look in the mirror, my eyes may see a boy in a leotard, but my brain sees Claudia Fragapane, or at the very least, a girl- a GIRL- with the potential to be as great a gymnast as her.

“Hey fellow gymnastic girl!” Nicole squeaks as she exits the changing room. “Still wearing your leo under there, I hope?”

“Um, no,” I say. “What if I need to pee?”

“Umm, you just pull the gusset to one side and let go,” Nicole giggles, rolling up her sleeve to reveal that she is indeed still wearing her leotard, as does Suriya.

“What if I need to, you know, ‘not pee’?” I say, making Nicole recoil with a look of mock-disgust on her face.

“Eww,” Nicole laughs. “TMI, Laura!” With the other three girls looking at me expectantly, I allow myself to giggle with my friends as we head off to our break time. After a quick catch up with Megan and Priya- who both coo over Nicole & Suriya’s leotards- we head off to our next lesson (French), and after a quick lunch, Nicole, Suriya, Harriet and I head to drama club, where Mrs. Ingram is busy integrating the New Year sevens into the club. My cheeks start to blush when I see some of the younger child look in my direction, before giggling and whispering to each other. Last year, this was nothing unusual and was usually for the ‘wrong’ reasons- now, the younger girls (and a few boys) look at me with respect, sometimes even awe.

“Hi Laura!” Mrs. Ingram beams upon seeing my group enter the room. “Hi girls!”

“Hi Mrs. Ingram!” Nicole says with a wide grin, before any of the rest of us get a chance to say hello.

“Okay,” Mrs. In gram says, “now that everyone’s here, we’re going to do some one-to-one scenes, so you’ll need to find a partner, but… I want you to partner with someone if a different year from you. There are as many year sevens here as there are every other year combined, so I know this is possible!” The four of us look at each other and shrug- it’s Mrs. Ingram’s club, so obviously she can run it however she wants- and we set off to find a partner. Within seconds, however, a young-looking year seven boy approaches me with a look of near-awe in his eyes.

“Hi,” the boy says nervously. “Hi, um, are you Laura White?”

“Hi!” I say with a friendly smile. “Yep, that’s me!”

“Hi,” the kid says again with a cute, nervous smile that reminds me a LOT of the way Phil smiled at me on my birthday. “Um, hi, um, I’m Ashley Moore, can I partner with you?”

“Sure, Ashley!” I giggle, grabbing one of the print-outs from Mrs. Ingram’s desk and acting it out along with Ashley. The kid is clearly nervous- and obviously, nowhere near as good an actor as me- but by the end of the club we’re having fun and giggling like we’ve been old friends. There’s something about Ashley that I can’t quite put my finger on, but I can tell that we just ‘click’, and we have the potential to be really, really good friends.

“That was fun,” Ashley laughs as he puts the print-out back on Mrs. Ingram’s desk. “What- what lesson have you got next?”

“Drama, actually,” I giggle. “You?”

“PE,” Ashley sighs. “We’re doing rugby… I hate it.”

“Ugh,” I spit. “SO glad I don’t have to do that.” Ashley nods- even though I hadn’t outright told him my ‘status’, as he recognised my face and knew my name it’s safe to assume he knows who- and, for want of a better word, what- I am.

“I had PE before break,” I say. “Though that was gymnastics, rather than rugby.”

“Oh,” Ashley says, his interest suddenly piqued. “Did- did you wear a leotard?”

“Yeah,” I say flatly. “Because I’m in Mrs. Hall’s gymnastics club, everyone HAS to wear a leotard in lessons.”

“Cool,” Ashley says. “I, um, I should go…” I wake as Ashley leaves, before turning around and looking straight in the face of my three excited friends.

“Ooooh!” Nicole, Suriya and Harriet all exclaim.

“Don’t tell me Laura’s got TWO boyfriends…” Harriet teases, making my cheeks burn with embarrassment.

“Don’t tell Phil, he’ll get jealous!” Suriya says.

“Stop it!” I plead as we line up outside the classroom for our final lesson of the day. After a lengthy drama lesson- during which I get mercilessly teased by the three girls about my ‘two boyfriends’, I hop in mum’s car and head home. The sly smile on mum’s face confuses me at first, but when I arrive home to find a large package with ‘13’ written on the outside in camouflage-themed pink writing, the smile quickly spreads to my face.

“It came this morning,” mum explains. “You know your brother’s useless when it comes to posting things on time…” I grin as I open the package, smiling happily as I find various items inside including a pair of big, girly sunglasses, pink (albeit camouflage-themed) false nails and a big card that reads ‘to my sister on her 13th birthday. Enjoy apologising to mum for being such a brat over the next seven years.’ Giggling happily, I grab my tablet computer and immediately open up Facebook, sending a lengthy thank you message to Ricky with plenty of ‘X’s in it (which Ricky doesn’t know how to react to!) before finishing off my homework and turning in for the night. Even though I had a fairly light dinner, I still take a laxative before heading to bed- between gymnastics club and ballet tomorrow, I’ll be spending most of the day in a skin-tight leotard that I really DON’T need ‘paunching’.

Sure enough, when I wake up on Wednesday morning, I feel ‘refreshed’ from the laxative, and ready for the day ahead. I giggle as I pack my still slightly sweaty gymnastics leotard in my bag, before remembering what Nicole said yesterday. Giggling slightly, I strip off my uniform and roll the leotard up my body, grimacing a little as I feel it cling snugly, before pulling my blouse, skirt and tights back on top of the leotard. Of course, when I arrive at the school gate and show the girls the purple sleeve underneath my blouse, I get giggles of approval and hugs from all five of my friends!

At our first break time, the six of us sit around our usual table and prepare to discuss gymnastics club and ballet, when we’re interrupted by a figure approaching our table.

“Um, hi,” Ashley says, his face a picture of near-terror as he stares at us six girls.

“Oh, hi, Laura’s second boyfriend!” Suriya teases, making Ashley blush uncontrollably.

“Suriya!” I chastise the giggling Indian girl. “Hi Ashley, want to sit with us?” I roll my eyes as my friends all let out a loud ‘ooh’ at my invitation.

“Um, yeah, thanks,” Ashley says, sitting next to me on the bench.

“I’m afraid we only talk about girly things at this table,” Priya giggles. “Unless you like talking about ballet, gymnastics, clothes, hair and make-up?” Ashley blushes harder under Priya’s teasing, though as Priya mentions all the feminine delights, I can’t help but notice his eyes light up slightly… Almost the same way mine used to at primary school, when the girls I hung around with would talk about girly things…

“It’s okay,” Ashley shrugs as we resume our discussion of dancing. I keep glancing over at Ashley during the chat, and every time one of the girls- especially me- mentions things like leotards, tights, dresses, make-up or nail polish, Ashley takes a LOT of interest, much more than any ‘normal’ boy would…

After break, we all head to our respective classes, and at lunch, I find myself in the PE teacher’s office, stripping off my uniform to reveal my spangled purple leotard underneath. After 30 minutes of stretching, rolling and tumbling (that if I’m honest, leaves me a little light-headed), I head back downstairs with the other girls, sighing as I head back into Mrs. Hall’s office.

“It sucks so much that you can’t change with the rest of us,” Carley comments. “I mean, you ARE a girl, it’s, like, it’s just obvious. The school shouldn’t treat you differently like this, it’s not fair.”

“Yeah,” some of the other girls- especially Suriya and Nicole- agree.

“I’D be okay with it,” Natalie- a year 9 girl- says, “but my parents would probably have a fit if they let you change with us…”

“Well that’s THEIR problem, isn’t it?” Nicole says firmly, wrapping an arm around my lycra-covered shoulder.

“Girls, come on,” Mrs. Hall says, breaking up the impromptu ‘conference’. “Laura, I know you don’t like the rules, but you DID agree to them before you started last year.”

“Yes, Mrs. Hall,” I say sadly, heading into her office and pulling my blouse, tights and skirt back on over my leotard. When I meet back up with Nicole and Suriya to head to our next lesson, I still feel a little down, but knowing that the rest of the girls are on my side… It makes a BIG difference.

After the final lessons of the day- during which sitting in a sweaty leotard becomes REALLY unpleasant- I head out to my mum’s car, ready to head home and change into yet another leotard, when I’m interrupted by a call from behind.

“Laura! Hey, Laura!” Ashley calls, running up to me, almost out of breath.

“Hey Ashley!” I say with a warm smile. “What’s up?”

“Um,” Ashley stutters. Sensing that the boy is really, really nervous, I offer him a way out of the conversation before it starts.

“I really have to get going,” I say apologetically. “But would you like me to add you on Facebook?”

“Yeah!” Ashley laughs. “Umm, it’s Ashley Moore, you should be able to find me…” I giggle as Ashley rushes off to his own mother’s car, his cheeks burning with every step he takes.

“Boys flinging themselves at you left, right and centre…” Mum teases as I sit down in her car.

“Mum!” I say. “He’s just a friend…”

“’Just a friend’ who’ll have a lipstick mark on his cheek before too long?” Mum asks, making me cringe with embarrassment.

“Mum!” I yell as my mother laughs her head off all the way home. After changing from my school uniform (and gymnastics leotard) into my ballet gear, a knee-length black denim skirt and a lilac hoodie, I eat a light dinner before Mr. Malik picks me up for my first ballet class of the week.

“Soo…” Suriya teases me. “Have you told PHIL about ASHLEY yet?”

“Neither of them are my boyfriend!” I futilely plead as the entire people carrier descends into a fit of giggles.

“I’m sure Suriya is happy about that,” Harriet teases the petite Indian girl. “I saw the way you looked at little Ashley at break…”

“I do not fancy him!” Suriya pleads. “You have to admit though, he IS cute…” The giggling only gets louder, until the six of us are dropped off at the ballet studio, where Miss Fullerton immediately makes a beeline for me.

“Hey girls!” The tall, blonde woman says. “Hope your minds are ready for an hour of dancing, and you’re not distracted by things like, oh, say, boys… Right Laura?”

“I do not have a boyfriend!” I plead.

“Oh really?” Miss Fullerton teases. “That’s not what my fellow Angel said after she saw you leave a lipstick mark on her little brother’s cheek…”

“Please, can we just dance?” I ask, making Miss Fullerton giggle even louder as she leads us into the studio.”

After an hour of intense dancing that leaves all six of us worn out, we get back into Mr. Malik’s people carrier, everyone considerably LESS excitable than we were on the journey to ballet. Once I arrive home, I head up to my bedroom and switch on my tablet computer, grinning when I see the solitary notification on the screen- ‘Ashley Moore has sent you a friend request’. I quickly open up Facebook and accept the friend request, and before I even get the chance to close down the app, my tablet pings to inform me of a new message from Ashley.

‘Hi Laura,’ the message reads. I roll my eyes as the screen indicates that Ashley keeps stopping and starting typing, but no further message comes through.

‘Hi Ashley!’ I reply with a smiling emoji. ‘Sorry about delay in accepting your request, been at ballet.’

‘Cool!’ Ashley types. I take a deep breath before replying, praying that my earlier instincts were correct.

‘Ashley…’ I type. ‘Is there a reason you wanted to hang out with me and my friends?’

‘What do you mean?’ Ashley replies, making me roll my eyes at his stereotypically boyish denseness.

‘Ashley,’ I type. ‘If there’s something you want to tell me, you can tell me privately and I won’t tell anyone, I promise. But the way you asked about my leotard yesterday, the way you seem interested in our discussions about ballet and fashion… Ashley, and I don’t mean this in a nasty way, I truly don’t… But do you wish you were a girl?’ I grimace as Ashley pauses before replying.

‘Sometimes,’ Ashley types, and I smile sadly, understanding exactly how hard it must have been for him to type that message.

‘That’s perfectly okay,’ I type. ‘In fact, as I keep getting told, it’s cool! Do your parents know?’

‘I can’t tell them,’ Ashley writes. ‘They’d kill me!’

‘You don’t know that for sure,’ I reply, remembering the unconditional support my mum and grandmother gave me… But also remembering the actions of my so-called father.

‘I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be happy,’ Ashley replies. ‘I’m the only boy, I’ve got 3 younger sisters… I really envy them at times.’

‘You feel like the odd one out?’ I ask. ‘Trust me, I know what that feels like. Do you have many friends in Y7?’

‘Not really,’ Ashley types. ‘No one from my old school came to this one so I don’t have anyone to hang out with.’

‘Well you do now!’ I type with a smiley emoji. ‘I promise I won’t tell the other girls about what we talked about, but I reckon you’ll find they’d approve too.’

‘Really?’ Ashley types. ‘Some of the other kids in my class said they heard the ginger girl was a bit nasty…’

‘Harriet WAS,’ I type. ‘Trust me, she’s cool. So are the others, in fact, earlier today I’m sure I heard Suriya say she thought you were cute…’ I feel a little guilty about teasing the young boy, but when he replies with a smiling emoji, I giggle.

‘Suriya’s really pretty,’ Ashley types. ‘Um, you’re all pretty, I mean.’

‘Thanks,’ I type. ‘I’ve got homework to finish, got to go, talk to you tomorrow!’ I go to switch off my tablet when my message notification bleeps again, only instead of a ‘ttyl’ from Ashley, the message is instead from my other ‘not boyfriend’.

‘Hi Laura,’ Phil types. ‘Up to much?’

‘Just back from ballet,’ I reply. ‘Sorry if I kinda left a smudge on your cheek on Saturday!’

‘No, actually, I kinda liked it,’ Phil types, making me blush. A pause falls over the conversation before Phil sends another message through.

‘You been up to much lately?’ Phil asks. ‘You’ve been kinda quiet on Facebook…’

‘Yeah,’ I reply. ‘Been keeping quiet, that was how my dad found out where I was, and he’s in prison now but I really don’t want to risk it.’

‘Okay, I get that,’ Phil says. ‘I’ve got homework now…’

‘Me too,’ I type.

‘Talk later, Laura!’ Phil types.

‘Ttyl!’ I type, before adding a string of ‘X’s to the end of the message. As I shut down my tablet, I find myself thinking about Phil, and about the dream I had, causing a surge of unusual tingles to flood my body. I barely get my homework done before heading to bed, and even then, I lay awake for what feels like hours, trying to rationalise the unfamiliar feelings I’m having.

I must have eventually fallen asleep as my alarm clock wakes me up at7:30, and as usual, I wash, take my boy-blocker and pull on my school uniform- though as there’s no gymnastics club today, I opt for a vest and panties instead of my leotard. As normal, I’m greeted by my five girl friends at the school gate, and we walk in together, though I do keep an eye out for Ashley as we head to form. During the first break period of the day, I head to our usual table with Nicole, Suriya and Harriet when I spot the young blonde boy sitting by himself on a bench outside.

“Hey, Ashley!” I yell at the boy, who looks at me as though I’m pointing a gun at him. “Hey, Ashley, come and join us!”

“Yeah, come on, Ashley!” Suriya calls. Nicole and Harriet quickly join in the ‘summoning’, followed by the already-seated Megan and Priya. The six of all let out a loud cheer as Ashley stands up and takes a seat between myself and Suriya on our bench. As the bench is only designed to have three children sat side-by-side, it’s a bit of a squash- but Ashley doesn’t seem to mind too much!

“Did you all enjoy ballet?” Ashley asks, prompting a mass giggle that makes him blush with embarrassment.

“Oh, stop embarrassing the poor boy!” Suriya scolds us whilst giving Ashley a quick cuddle.

“Should we be singing ‘Suriya’s got a boyfriend’ now?” Nicole teases.

“Oh- shut up!” Suriya says, blushing slightly herself and making a show of releasing Ashley from her cuddle.

“What was it you said last night,” Harriet teases, “’you have to admit, he is cute’…?”

“Suriya’s got a boyfriend,” I sing, giggling as the other girls (apart from Suriya, of course) join in the teasing. At the end of the break period, I head to my next class with Suriya (Harriet and Nicole are doing a different subject at this time), and almost immediately we find ourselves gossiping about our new friend.

“Soo,” I ask. “Do you REALLY like Ashley?”

“Well,” Suriya sighs, clearly fed up with the teasing she’s received, “he’s OKAY. Dunno about ‘boyfriend material’ though.”

“Why not?” I ask, mindful not to give away any clues about Ashley’s ‘secret’.

“I dunno,” Suriya sighs. “He just seems a bit… You know, like he’s hiding something…” I bite my tongue- I know for a fact that Suriya would think that Ashley’s ‘secret’ is cool- she was one of the first to accept me as a friend, after all- but I daren’t break my promise. If Ashley’s secret got out… My first two weeks at school were so terrible, I wouldn’t wish them on my worst enemy, let alone a sweet boy like Ashley. All throughout our next lesson, we occasionally gossip about Ashley, ballet and other boys, and by the time we return to our table for lunch- grinning when we find Ashley already sat there with Megan, Priya, Nicole and Harriet.

“Hey, girls and ‘honorary girl’!” I say, giving Ashley a quick hug as Suriya and I sit down either side of him.

“Stop teasing him,” Megan chastises me. “His cheeks are almost permanently red anyway!”

“Unless Suriya likes her boys with red cheeks!” Harriet teases. Much to my (and Suriya’s relief), Ashley joins in the giggling that floods the table throughout the entire lunch break. Before long, however, the bell rings to signify the end of the lunch period, and the seven of us disperse. Before we head to our final class of the day, however, I grab Suriya and Ashley and almost literally drag the two of them to the nearest water fountain, where we can talk in near-private.

“We’ve not got much time before class,” I say. “Ashley, if you don’t want to tell Suriya, it’s fine, but you can trust her just as you can trust me.”

“Trust me with what?” Suriya asks, confused by my sudden forcefulness and the look of terror that has crept onto Ashley’s face.

"I, um, I have a secret..." Ashley mumbles.

"Who doesn't?" Suriya laughs. "If you don't want to tell me, it's fine, but I promise I won't share with anyone, not even my sister!"

"I, um..." Ashley mutters, before whispering in Suriya ears. Much to my dismay, the Indian girl's jaw drops in shock, before the corners of her mouth turn upwards and she starts giggling with genuine excitement.

"That is so cool!" Suriya squeaks.

"See? What did I tell you?" I smugly ask Ashley, who looks as though he's had the weight of the world lifted from his shoulders.

"But do you- um, do you ever," Suriya stutters. "Do you ever get a chance to, you know, 'do' your hobby?"

"Nah," Ashley sighs. "My sisters are 8, 4 and 1 so their clothes wouldn't fit, obviously nor would my mum's..." Suriya reaches into her bag before Ashley has even finished talking, and pulls out her spare pair of grey school tights.

"Oh, damn..." Suriya mock-whines. "My spare pair of tights are damaged..." Anybody can see that they're not, but I grin when I realise what Suriya has in mind. "Ashley, could you put these in the bin, please?"

"Um, sure," Ashley says, shivering as he holds the soft legwear in his hands.

"Ashley," I giggle. "When Suriya says 'bin' she of course means 'bin'." I pat Ashley's bag, whose eyes light up with pure excitement when he realises what Suriya did for him.

"Don't tell your parents," Suriya says, winking at the excited young boy. "As far as anyone's concerned, you fished those out of the bin, okay?"

"Okay!" Ashley says, hastily stuffing the tights into a side pocket on his bag before scuttling away to his next class.

"You DO know that could get both you and him in a lot of trouble, right?" I giggle as Suriya and I head to our class.

"Whatever," Suriya shrugs. "Don't you wish you had a friend who'd done that for you in year 5 or 6?"

"More than anything," I sigh. "You are SUPER cool."

"I am, aren't I?" Suriya giggles smugly as we take our seats and our final lesson for the day begins.

...Our final lesson, that is, besides our ballet lesson, which I arrive at in the back of Mr. Malik's people carrier with the rest of the girls. When the six of us step out of the large vehicle, though, we're surprised to find someone other than a ballet dancer or a teacher stood in the reception of the studio.

"A-Ashley?" I ask, my jaw almost on the floor at the sight of the 11 year old boy.

"Oh hello," an older woman in her mid-thirties- obviously Ashley's mother- says to our group. "You must be Laura, Suriya, Priya..."

"Nicole, Megan and Harriet," Nicole says, clearly chagrined at having been forgotten. "It's nice to meet you, Mrs. Moore." Nicole opens her mouth to speak further, when she's interrupted by the arrival of our teacher.

"Hello, you must be Mrs. Moore!" Miss Fullerton says, shaking the hand of the older woman. "When you called and asked about your child named Ashley, I will be honest, I thought you were talking about a girl, but there's nothing that says boys can't be ballet dancers too!"

"I understand that you do have a waiting list," Mrs. Moore says.

"Not for handsome young men, I don't!" Miss Fullerton giggles. "Seriously, there is a real lack of talented young boys doing ballet, I would KILL to have more boys in my class."

"Can I, um, can I watch a class to see if I'd like it first, please?" Ashley shyly asks the exuberant woman.

"Of course!" Miss Fullerton beams, ushering us girls into the class to our places at the barre. "Just take a seat anywhere at the side." Ashley looks almost panicked as he sits down in one of the chairs at the side of the studio, but as I glance over at him throughout the lesson, he gets more and more relaxed, eventually enjoying the sight of the twenty-ish girls dancing- or the twenty-ish girls in our leotards and tights, who can say? All I know is that at the end of the lesson, when Mr. Malik picks us up, Ashley's mother is discussing payment options with Miss Fullerton.

"This is so cool," Nicole gushes whilst looking straight at Suriya. "You're going to get to dance with your boyfriend!"

"Ashley is not my boyfriend!" Suriya pleads in the exact same manner I plead last night, making me almost double over giggling.

"'Suriya's got a boyfriend'..." I sing, making the tiny girl growl with frustration. The six of us giggle all the way home, where after finishing my homework, I switch my tablet on and start composing a message to Ashley.

'Hey, Billy Elliott!' I write.

'Lol,' comes the near-immediate reply from Ashley. 'Dad wasn't happy when he learned I'd signed up for ballet, but he thinks I'm just there for the girls... Which isn't 100% untrue!'

'Lol,' I reply. 'You DO know you won't be wearing a leotard or tights, right? You'll be wearing what the other two boys wore...'

'Yeah, I know,' Ashley types. 'But I figure, you know, the more I'm there...'

'The better your chances of getting Suriya to give you her old leotards and tights?' I type with a winking emoji.

'Lol,' Ashley replies with a 'sticking out tongue' emoji. 'I haven't worn them yet, saving it for when I know I won't be interrupted...'

'Or you could always tell your parents,' I write.

'Who only barely approved of me starting ballet as a boy,' Ashley replies. 'g2g now, homework. Talk tomorrow?'

'Of course!' I reply as Ashley signs out of Facebook. I head to bed shortly afterwards, exhausted from the whole day- the whole week, in fact. I just about manage to drag myself out of bed at 7:30 for the final school day of the week and all but sleepwalk through the first couple of lessons, though I perk up at break time when I once again see Ashley already sat at the table, waiting for us as though he's always been 'one of the girls'. By the end of Friday, he's as much a part of our 'gang' as any of us- and it wouldn't surprise me if he puts in an appearance at Priya's and Suriya's tomorrow!

When I head to the car park at the end of the day, however, I'm surprised to find grandma sat in the passenger seat of mum's car, forcing me (and my school bag) onto the back seat.

"Hi grandma," I say. "What are you doing here?"

"Charming," grandma jokes with mock offence. "I'm here to take you shopping before your counsellor's meeting."

"Umm, what do I need to buy?" I ask, confused by the sudden (but not unwelcome) shopping trip.

"You'll see," grandma says smugly. Less than twenty minutes later, we three women find ourselves standing outside a small, independent underwear store, in the window of which I see bras and panties of all different varieties.

"I was thinking about what you said on Sunday," grandma explains. "And you're right- it isn't fair that you don't get to experience all the same things your friends will experience, so we're going to get you your first training bra!" My jaw drops as the elderly woman coolly sweeps into the shop and demands the assistance of one of the shop workers, who takes me into a private back room where I try on various different bras of all shapes and sizes- some that look virtually identical to 'real' bras, some which are more like camisoles. After thirty minutes, we leave with two training bras for me to wear- one in a shopping bag, the other fastened around my chest! The straps feel uncomfortable at first as I walk down the street, but after a while, it becomes second nature to wear it.

"Hello Laura!" Dr Williamson says as I arrive in her office. "Hello Mrs. White, Mrs. Clarke, so nice to meet you again!"

"Likewise, doctor," grandma says as we take our seats.

"Did you have a good birthday?" Dr Williamson asks.

"I did, thanks," I say with a wide grin. "I got lots of good presents..."

"AND a boyfriend..." Mum teases, making grandma snort and Dr Williamson chuckle.

"Phil is NOT my boyfriend," I moan, but to no avail.

"Well, you're thirteen now," Dr Williamson says. "I had my first- obviously non-serious- boyfriend when I was thirteen, it's perfectly natural that you'd start 'noticing' members of the sex to which you are attracted."

"As long as all you're doing is 'noticing'," grandma cautions. "That does bring up a point I wanted to ask you about."

"Please, go ahead," Dr Williamson says.

"As you obviously know, most young women begin puberty by the age of thirteen," grandma says, making me cringe with embarrassment. "Laura here obviously hasn't, and won't without- as she puts it- 'outside assistance'."

"You mean hormone replacement therapy?" Dr Williamson says, and grandma nods. "Obviously we can't just prescribe hormones to anyone under the age of sixteen, even with parental consent. However, if there is a genuine psychological need, then on special occasions hormones CAN be prescribed. One of the conditions for that is a demonstrated desire to live life permanently as the opposite gender- Laura clearly meets that condition."

"And I do have a genuine psychological need," I say, earning chuckles from the other three women for my over eagerness. "I don't want to feel left out amongst my friends..."

"You know your friends will love you no matter how fast you 'develop'," mum says.

"They wouldn't be proper friends if they didn't," grandma says, and I'm forced to nod and concede their point.

"I will review things throughout the next year," Dr Williamson says. "We obviously need to make sure that this isn't a reaction to your ordeal over the summer- I'm not saying that it is, I know you've been transitioning for longer, but I need to make sure that you're in the right state of mind to begin HRT, and that the only effects the oestrogen would have on you are positive. When prescribed incorrectly, HRT can have some devastating consequences, especially to minors."

"I understand," I say, listening intently as Dr Williamson continues explaining about the benefits and possible negative side-effects of hormone replacement therapy, but my mind was made up a long time ago- I want this, more than I've ever wanted anything. And it's not like this is a childish whim- I'm not a little kid any more, I'm thirteen, I'm a teenager, I'm more than able to think for myself. If I hadn't taken the boy blockers, I'd already have started a male puberty, I'd have a deeper voice, body hair, maybe even the beginnings of facial hair- and it would have CRUSHED me.

...But at the same time, the limbo I'm in is no better. Sure, I can do all the things teenage girls do- wear training bras, get boyfriends- but it's still all a show. Hormones won't change things overnight or make it all 100% real, but they will help me feel better as myself, as the woman I am slowly becoming. Grandma may constantly warn me not to grow up too fast... But the simple fact is that I'm growing up too slowly.

I know I should be grateful that I have this opportunity at all- Ashley's in the position I'd dreaded less than eighteen months ago, being forced to attend school as a boy when everything inside screams 'girl', and Nikki Thomas- who I look up to a lot- didn't start her transition until after she'd left secondary school. And I DO enjoy life as a girl... I just know I'd enjoy life as a woman so, so much more.