I rolled out of bed a little after six on Wednesday morning. Yes, it was my own bed this time, before you ask. Truth be told, between an early night and a busy day, I had slept like a proverbial log. There was really only so long I could lie in the warm embrace of my duvet before I had to prepare to join humanity.

Outside, the dark ribbon of the Rhine passed by my window on its way north toward the Netherlands and the North Sea beyond. The little bits of land I could see had a light coating of white this morning. Out in the swirling flakes, a huge barge struggled upstream, a tugboat working hard behind it. Fighting an unending current… hmm, that felt particularly familiar.

Feeling a little stinky this morning, I decided to wash my hair and enjoy a luxurious hot shower. By the time I was finished, every nook and cranny was squeaky clean, hair-free, and totally moisturized. If I have to dress up as Alex, at least underneath, I can be comfortable as myself. If my calculations were correct, today marked the start of my ninth remaining day of playing boy; it really couldn’t come soon enough. I was beyond ready to see the back of Alex Winters.

My boobs were itching again; a sure sign they were up to no good in the dimensions department. For anyone reading this who has never had the opportunity to grow their own breasts, they tend to get a little itchy and tender when they’re first developing. For me, it came and went for the first couple of years and was always a sure sign of growth. Well, at least this time that wasn’t a potential exposure risk. Finally being able to feel happy about my developing body was extremely liberating.

For the first six or so months of my hormonal journey, I had been prevented from feeling joy at my changing body. It was all a risk; a terrible risk of exposure. I couldn’t feel pride or excitement when it was all possibly a bridge too far. Wait, was that on the Rhine too? Quite possibly my most prophetic joke ever.

After a quick and unladylike scratch of said appendages, I trussed the troublesome things up in a sports bra and shrugged into a tight T-shirt. I’m starting to become convinced that by trying to compress and hide the girls during their growth, that I somehow managed to offend them. Enough at least, to want to take revenge on my spine later in life. Maybe it’s like putting your foot on a hosepipe? You hold the water back and it blows up like a balloon… I think my breasts ended up getting the same idea.

Today’s uniform of dreariness was a pair of army green cargo pants and my old favorite Blitzkrieg Flop hoodie with a pair of Inverse sneakers. Add to that my gloves, hat, and winter coat and it was boring, boyish, and best of all, rather warm. Other than the mighty river, the land I could see was starting to attract the sky’s white stuff with growing eagerness. It was likely to be a rather chilly one and according to our teachers, we would be spending a good portion of the day outside.

Breakfast was a pretty exciting affair as a horde of teenagers, most of whom were generally unfamiliar with snow, got to see the growing winter wonderland for the first time outside the hotel windows. With their usual efficiency, our educators had us wrangled and dispatched to prepare for the day’s misadventures. Twenty minutes later, we piled aboard the bus and waited for Frau Whistler to address our assembled horde.

“Listen up people, this is going to be a day involving a few logistical moments so I want your full and undivided attention. We have nudged a few things around due to the weather, but we also think it’s perfect for something we had for today regardless and the company has informed us they’re still running so… listen closely, Michael.”

“Why are you singling me out Frau Whistler?”

Our teacher stared at the unfortunate youth with a look that simply oozed ‘I am responsible for you, but I wish I could abandon you in the mountains.’ It’s a testament to her quality as an educator that she held her tongue.

“Today, we are heading down past Remagen to the Brohl Valley where we will ride on the Vulkan Express. It’s a little, narrow-gauge railway that runs up into the Eifel Mountains and originally brought material from quarries down to the River Rhine. It's about fifteen kilometers in length and we will be stopping for lunch at the halfway point in a town called Oberzissen. Our afternoon will see us head into the city of Koblenz.”

She paused, to ensure we took everything in. “I’ll need you to make sure you’re on your best behavior with today’s timings, everyone. The better you are, the longer we will have for lunch and this afternoon in Koblenz. Anyone that screws around will spend the afternoon with myself and Herr Norton. I promise you will not prefer that option… Michael.”

“What did I do?”

There were murmurings of amusement from the assembled masses and Michael Davis was notably silent. It turns out that even he can listen when he wants to.

Our driver was the same guy from the previous day's outings and while he was no Michael Schumacher, he was more than efficient at navigating the beast of a bus through the busy local traffic. One thing I can say with certainty is that European roads are much narrower than ones back home. Then again, so are many of the people!

Oh, go on, admit it; you laughed.

Around an hour later, we arrived at the little train station in the town of Brohl-Lützing and were ushered out of our transport and across to the little station’s platform. The snow was relatively undisturbed here and it was bitterly cold now that we were out in the open. Despite my coat, I was really starting to shiver by the time our train finally came chugging along the tracks.

Our ride for the morning clanked and squealed to a halt in front of us. It consisted of three small red and cream vintage coaches pulled by an adorable little green Diesel locomotive. This was no Amtrak beast, but rather something I’d expect to find under a department store Christmas tree. Like old tourist trains back home, the coaches were boarded from open platforms at each end and seated around twenty a car on wooden bench seating. It seemed that today the service was a private booking for just us. That meant we were able to spread ourselves out a little throughout the three coaches.

“Come sit with me Alex,” Chloe called out, waving me over to join her towards the tail end of the second carriage.

“It’s damn freezing in here,” I frowned, rubbing my gloved hands together to generate anything approximating heat. “I think I’m going to die of exposure.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic,” the blonde chided with a chilly-looking grin of her own. “They have little log burners going in each car anyway, it will warm up in no time, probably.”

“So you say,” I counter dryly, feeling my spirit shiver. “But my toes don’t quite hear you.”

Chloe’s response was an eye roll. I don’t know why people don’t take me seriously, honestly.

The carriage did start to warm up eventually as it pulled out of the station. Sure, it wasn’t the summer steam train service, but the view from the windows was spectacular nonetheless. In no time at all, we were clanking and rattling our way up the Brohl Valley in the little train.

“It’s beautiful; almost like a postcard,” Chloe mused, watching the snowflakes falling outside the windows. “It feels so surreal when you think that we’re actually here in Germany, you know?”

“I know what you mean,” I smile. “It really makes the whole class mean something…more.”

“Probably why they make us come here,” she agreed.

Chloe and I watch the snow outside the train window for a few minutes without speaking. All around us excited teens were taking photographs and chatting away with each other as we rattle along the rails. I’ll give them credit, this is a pretty awesome experience on top of an amazing week so far.

“Thank you,” I began, squeezing Chloe’s hand out of sight of the others. “for the whole me thing. Thank you for being cool about stuff…”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she frowns, turning away from the window to face me.

It’s not a bad question, in all honesty. In an ideal world, why wouldn’t she be cool about this? It doesn’t affect her and it’s just common human decency to treat someone with respect. It’s a sad testament to our world that I feel the urge to thank her for treating me like a human being.

“I don’t know, but many aren’t,” I shrug. While we have a little privacy with the rattling noise of the train, I’m not entirely comfortable being explicit about this topic in front of others.

Chloe reached over, squeezed my hand, and winked, “I’m very glad I met you, ‘Alex’.”

Here’s me thinking how much I needed to hide myself from people on this trip. As it happens, I’ll be starting at the Girls’ Division in January with seven or so girls who support me and know me as Holly; that’s a pretty good start. Having four in Germany alone is a real boon to my case.

By the time we pulled into the small station at Oberzissen, the snow was looking a lot more persistent than it had when we had first departed. In fact, the cleared road was starting to pick up a fairly reasonable coating of snow as it ran down the hill and across the railroad tracks. Having departed the train, the crowd on the platform started to slowly drift away in all directions as any group of unsupervised adolescents are want to do. Before any of us could manage to get too lost, Frau Whistler well… whistled, loudly.

“Everyone, stick together! We’re heading across the road to the restaurant here to get lunch and some much-needed hot chocolate before we head back down,” our educator announced, shepherding her flock in the general direction of town. “You can take photos later, let’s get inside and out of this cold before I have to ship any of you home in the refrigerator, ok?”

Across the main road from the little station was a long single-story restaurant set back slightly from the road. Compared to the arctic chill in the air, Grill-Restaurant Gasper seemed incredibly attractive, even if its name was a little on the breathy side.

“Come on, we want to get a good table,” Chloe insisted, grabbing me by the elbow. “If we’re not quick Tina will have cleaned them out before we get there.”

I was snickering at her remark when I felt my foot slide beneath me on a patch of ice on the paving. Do you know that lurch in your stomach when you feel yourself falling? That’s the one. Thankfully my ninja reflexes, honed over years of dodging beatings, allowed me to grab hold of her before I went ass over tit on a patch of icy snow.

“This is super sketchy Chlo, please slow down or I’m going to eat crap before we get there.”

Fate truly possesses expert comedic timing. If it were a person, I would suspect it of purposefully having a pair of jokers up its sleeve. The second I opened my big mouth, a chain of events began that would have felt prophetic if my young life hadn’t flashed before my very eyes.

“Sheiße! Wooaah bugger, look out!” A high-pitched voice yelled desperately, accompanied by the distinctive sound of squealing bicycle brakes and sliding tires.

I had just enough time to yank Chloe backward before a small missile on a bike came sliding past us. Bike and rider skidded sideways, wobbled precariously, and flipped over the guardrail separating the platform from the road a few feet below.

“Holy shit,” Chloe breathed, her eyes wide, “what the hell was that?”

I shook my head uncertainly, I wasn’t entirely sure myself. Cautiously, I approached the rail to look for the errant blur. Thankfully, the drop was only perhaps five feet or so, and both rider and bike were embedded in a snowbank.

Carefully, we scramble down and make our way over, just in time to find the snow-covered rider sitting up and brushing the white stuff from their jacket.

“Das war nicht der Plan.” The figure spluttered, “Bloody hell.”

I glanced at Chloe uncertainly before offering the figure a hand out of the snow. “Hey, uh, miss, are you ok? uh, “Alles ok, Fräulein?"

“Ja, gut… I’m fine,” The rider offered, making a face before she looked up curiously. “Wait, American?”

Chloe nodded, “We’re on a school trip, do you want us to call you an ambulance, or our teachers?”

The girl shook her head, sending snow flying from her cycle helmet. “I’ll be fine, I think, but my front wheel’s propper had it,” she sighed.

“I’ll go get Frau Whistler,” Chloe offered, tottering off to go find our glorious leader.

The rider, it turned out, was a petite blonde around Tina’s size wrapped up in winter cycling clothing which, at that moment, was covered in the ever present white stuff.

“How come you’re up here? This is the middle of nowhere!” the girl asked, pulling herself to her feet rather unsteadily.

“Uh, train,” I offered, gesturing up at the platform over yonder. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“I’ve had worse,” she shrugged as she dusted off her steed. “Everything’s still attached, as far as I know.”

“How come you sound British?” I query suspiciously.

The girl grinned, “probably because I am; we moved here last year.”

Chloe chose that moment to return with Frau Whistler. “Bist du verletzt, Fräulein?”

“I’m fine really, I promise. Just a busted wheel on the bike and a bit of a bump.”

“She’s British,” I offer to my teacher.

Frau Whistler’s eyebrows go up. “Ah, well, ok then. No ambulance needed I suppose. You really should come inside and dry off, honey, you look soaked to the bone.”

“I’ll need to call my dad,” the girl admitted, hauling a sleek racing bike behind her. “Might as well, cheers.”

We made it inside the restaurant and I was immediately hit by just how warm it was out of the arctic blast outside. The small blonde lent her bike against the wall and wandered over to the bar to speak to one of the waitresses in rapid German. A moment later, the employee handed her a telephone and she began dialing.

“Who is she?” Chloe asked.

“No clue,” I shrugged. “Some Brit chick that moved over here apparently. She seems amazingly not bothered after nailing that barrier.”

“I’ve seen worse landings at regionals,” she giggled. “Coming?”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” I shake my head. “Can you grab me a hot chocolate, please?”

Chloe shoots me a thumbs up and heads for the table where the others are busy warming themselves. After a cursory search, I find the bathrooms down a side corridor and let myself in. Like most that I’ve found so far in Germany, they’re spotlessly clean. It makes a change to back home for sure and one I’m grateful for. I find myself a stall and get to work. Whilst I’m doing my business, I hear the outer door bang as another person enters.

I’ve never been particularly fond of public restrooms as you can imagine. Ever since I started hormones it’s gotten far worse and I try to avoid them where possible. Right now I’m hungry and cold, and I’d rather not wait for them to leave so I flush and head for the sinks.

As I wash my hands, I marvel at my reflection in the mirror. The old looking-glass has always been a bit of a two-headed monster for me; I look far more female than I ever expected I would, and that fills me with more joy than you can possibly imagine. One of the downsides of the beast named dysphoria, however, is that I still see elements of Alex that nobody else possibly ever will.

The girl looking back is just that; a girl. The ironic part is that I’m still trying to be him. I think Alex truly died that day I hit the dining room floor at school. In many ways, I’m a new person now; Holly unchained.

I’m snapped from my introspection when a toilet flushes behind me and a cubicle latch slides. Color me flabbergasted when the bike girl appears.

She looks momentarily surprised to see me, then seems to just shrug and joins me at the sink. I glance past her and spot the row of urinals confirming we are, in fact, in the boys' room.

“So you’re on a school trip, right?” she asks casually, giving me a heavy dose of side-eye.

“Uh, yeah,” I agree, more than a little confused myself. “Like visiting the Christmas markets and history stuff.”

“Cool,” she grins. “I was up in Köln last week with my friends from school, it’s really fun.”

“It was,” I agree. “We were there on Monday. We’re doing the Vulkan Express today and a bunch of other stuff before we head home.”

“I’ve raced that train a few times,” bike girl grins. “Though normally road conditions are a lot better than it is now; flippin’ snow.” she pauses as she adjusts her blonde braid, “Seems like a really long way to come for a school trip.”

I dry up and make sure my own hair is still in one piece after being blasted by the train journey. In this case, not looking more like Holly than normal. “Our school is pretty good with its trips. Coming to actual Germany really makes taking German kinda make more sense, you know?”

The girl nods, “Back when I used to live in England we did a school exchange with a place in Virginia, Grottoes.”

“Other coast,” I grin, it's a big country.”

“Sure is,” she admits as she heads towards the door.

“You sure you’re ok after that crash?” I ask. “That looked really rough…”

She chuckles and flexes with machismo that seems quite alien to one so petite. “I’m pretty tough. It takes a lot more than that to break Drew Bond.”

We walk back out into the main restaurant and I glance back at the door and there is no mistake; it’s certainly the boys bathroom. I’m more confused than ever.

A tall man in a thick down coat with a hat and gloves is wheeling the girl’s bike outside to a station wagon with a bike rack.

“Oh hey dad, you got here fast,” she grins, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

The man smiles and ruffles her hair, “Had to pop down to grab some parts in Koblenz, you beating yourself up again, eh kiddo?”

The girl Drew shrugs and shakes her head, “Snow came down quicker than I expected. It was a good job the train had already stopped.”

“Do not tell your mother you nearly hit a train, she would kill me.” the man sighed. “Who’s your friend?”

She looks over at me and grins, “You never did actually say…”

I extend my hand to her father, “Uh, Alex Winters, sir.”

“American?” he raises an eyebrow, taking my hand rather gently. “A long way from home, I see.”

“School trip, Dad; they’re off the Vulkan.”

“Ah,” the man replied with a nod of understanding. “Dave Bond, nice to meet you, young lady, I hope this one wasn’t too much trouble.”

I blush and glance around hoping nobody heard ‘young lady’, “No sir, not at all. We’re just glad we can help.”

“Right, come on you, the dad taxi awaits.”

Drew turned and gave me a little wave and a grin, “It was nice to meet you, and cheers for pulling me out of a snow drift. Have a good time on the rest of your trip.”

I returned the wave, “Watch out for low-flying walls huh?”

“I’ll do my best.”

Drew’s dad muttered something I could barely hear, although it sounded a lot like, “No he won’t.”

I must have misheard…. right?

“She off?”

“Huh?” I turned around and spotted Chloe appearing by my shoulder.

“That was a girl, right?”

“Yeah,” Chloe replied slowly, giving me a funny look. “Why?”

“She came into the guys' bathroom.”

“So did you,” she pointed out.

I looked out across the parking lot at the girl helping her dad load the bike onto the roof-mounted carrier. Even in her bulky winter riding clothes she looked very obviously female. The bike loaded, she skipped around to the front passenger seat and hopped in beside her father.

“You don’t think…?”

Chloe looked at me and narrowed her eyes. “What, you mean?”

I suddenly felt like a certain web-loving superhero meeting their doppelganger. You know the one scene where they both stand there, pointing a finger at each other? I’m pretty sure that was me in that moment.

 

 

“And so, when Germany was reunified in 1990, they ended up deciding to replace the old monument to a future German unity with a replica of the original equestrian statue of Emperor Wilhelm the First. It was a little controversial, but it speaks to an older history from a different time.”

Frau Whistler was telling us all about the massive bronze statue of the King of Prussia from, like, the 1860s. While we were working on dividing America with a nice civil war, Old Bill here was unifying Germany.

We were in Koblenz, having returned from our adventure in the Brohltal without further kamikaze cyclists. Right now we were at the point where the Mosel and Rhine rivers meet, the Deutsches Eck, or German Corner. The corner itself was a humongous monument right on the riverbank, which included flags of all the German states and even bits of the Berlin Wall!

“So who can tell me who the first Chancellor of Germany was and why they were significant?” Herr Norton asks, glancing around the group.

The crowd was silent.

“I know one of their Chancellors but it’s the wrong answer.” Tina giggled quietly beside me.

“Miss Booth?” Norton zeroed in on my less-than-subtle friend.

“Uh…”

“Bismarck,” I hissed to her.

“Bismarck?”

“Correct,” Norton smiled appreciatively. “At least some of you paid attention during our visits. “Otto von Bismarck was the first chancellor and, under Wilhelm the First, helped oversee the unification of Germany. So popular in fact, he served for twenty years.”

“Thanks,” Tina whispered back. “I suck at the numbers and names crap.”

“Stop being such an easy target.”

The blonde grinned at me and all but confirmed she would not cease her shenanigans. I rolled my eyes and returned my attention to our teachers as they further lectured on the mustachioed leaders of Germany.

“I know many of you thought we would release you into the great city here for a few hours of shopping but I’m going to have to disappoint you.” Herr Norton began, clapping his hands together.

He waited a few moments for the groans to emanate from the assembled teens before his smirk gave the game away. “Now we didn’t drag you out here just to look at the Eck, I hope you’ve wrapped up warm because we’re going to be boarding a riverboat shortly and taking a special Christmas tour.”

He wasn’t kidding. Now if you’re American like me, we have a certain idea of riverboats, and these ones didn’t have any paddles, gamblers or gators. No, here in Germany, river tourism is a whole different beast. In Koblenz, it seems like the whole waterfront along the Rhine and Mosel here has jetties and terminals, where tourist boats arrive and depart, taking people on aquatic adventures up and down the river. Some were massive vessels that clearly took passengers on far longer, multi-day cruises to the far north and south, while others were piddling little vessels that looked like an errant barge would see them off in a heartbeat.

Ours, the rather aptly named Wilhelm, was moored just south of the monument on the Rhine side of the corner. The ship was perhaps two hundred feet long and had a raised bridge sitting atop its upper deck. The entire thing was draped in fairy lights and looked incredibly warm and inviting. Well, it’s not hard to look inviting when your backdrop is gently falling snow landing in the black frigid waters of the river.

“That looks cold,” Emma observed with a frown, eying the water as we walked down the jetty toward the ship.

“I don’t think they expect you to take a swim,” Tina pointed out, balling up snow from one of the railings and sending her makeshift missile into the dark water below with a deeply satisfying plop. “Better hope we don’t spring a leak.”

“I’ll save you room on my door, Booth,” Chloe grinned as she playfully poked our blonde menace.

The Wilhelm was just as festive inside as it had appeared on the outside. Inside were Christmas trees, tinsel, and fairy lights strung from every possible place. The atmosphere was warm and cosy and the air smelled sweet and spicy.

Besides our party, there appeared to be a good number of tourists and other visitors aboard, most of whom were clearly adults. It appeared that for them, the Glühwein was already flowing.

Once the crew and passengers were settled, we pulled away from the quay and into the flow of the Rhine proper. With the snow falling everywhere, it was a really beautiful sight. Light Christmas music was playing over speakers and the vibration of the engines as they battled against the river’s current was pulsing through the deck.

The festively attired bar staff rather tragically denied me Glühwein this time, despite being of legal age here in Germany. (It’s almost like they suspected we were on a school trip, Die Ratten). I gratefully accepted a big mug of hot chocolate, however, with appropriate grace.

When I say this is hot chocolate, please do not misunderstand me. As a woman who appreciates her chocolate, I consider myself quite the connoisseur. This mug however was on point; marshmallows wallowing in cream, coated with chocolate sauce, and shaved dark chocolate capped the most luxuriously velvety drink you can possibly imagine. Frankly, I‘d take this over the booze.

For the first part of our journey, we looped up and around the Deutsches Eck, getting a wildly new perspective on the impressive monument to our vessel’s namesake. After a great photo op, our literal Steamboat Willy turned south and began to slog its way upstream.

The interior of the main cabin was becoming stiflingly hot with all the merrymakers, some of whom were becoming a little merrier than two in the afternoon would typically justify. Well, it is Christmas I suppose.

The gang and I made our way out onto the foredeck, our hot chocolates in hand to find some cooler, less congested space to ourselves. Did I just call us ‘the gang?’ hm, look at me being part of a social network, next I’ll be running for Homecoming Queen.

The Wilhelm chugged onward, passing the imposing Ehrenbreitstein Fortress, perched high atop the eastern cliffs. The snow was falling gently as we stared out over the water in open wonder. Between my chocolate and the warmth of my clothing, I was pretty darn cozy. If I pushed myself, I could actually admit that I was content.

We slogged south against the current for some time. Along our way, beautiful Schlosses lined the hillsides of the Rhine valley. There was something timeless about this place. Even now as we shared the mighty waterway with commercial shipping heading up and downstream, you could almost imagine those ancient fortresses looking down upon and defending shipping hundreds of years ago as the tides of Europe shifted. Compared to America, this place just felt… ancient.

We were approaching the turn at Spay where the mighty river swung to the west before curving back south again. The place held a timeless ancient quality only further cemented by the imposing shape of Schloss Marksburg, keeping watchful eye on the world below.

The snow swirled above us and the world seemed quieter, despite the rumble of the ship’s engines.

“Really is kinda beautiful, isn’t it?” Emma mused quietly, echoing all of our thoughts.

“Stunning,” Sarah agreed. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

The last six months of my life have contained a fair few real moments. Moments where I felt like I was becoming a real person; recognized and seen. Moments I shared with my Mom and Dad, my brother, and my sister. Moments I spent with my best friends and… my boyfriend. Somehow, this moment together with friends felt truly special.

In this moment I didn't feel different. Sure, I was here as Alex, but they all knew me and included me regardless. My…problem wasn’t even mentioned. These girls didn’t accept me; the word suggests some level of tolerance or something different that has to be overcome. No, rather, they included me. To them, I was a friend and my inclusion was a default. For me, that felt like a pretty awesome feeling.

“We need to get a picture of this, to commemorate the moment.” Chloe pointed out. Shifting slightly out of the way of some new, semi-inebriated passengers that had joined the growing crowd on the foredeck.

“I have a camera” I offered, pulling the little digital out of my coat pocket.

“We need someone to take it,” she pointed out, glancing around the crowd.

Two drunk Germans jostled us at that moment, nearly causing Tina to stumble over. The man stared at the angry blonde for a moment with a drunken glaze over his eyes before mumbling ‘schuldigung and swaying back away. Apparently, drunken office parties aren’t just a preserve of us Americans.

Chloe managed to convince an elderly couple to take our photograph, while there was still breathing room on the port railing. Realizing we had limited time before it became too crowded, we bundled together in a group, all hugs and smiles, with the castle high above us in the snow.

I positioned myself toward the rear of the group because I wanted to keep my clothes out of the photograph. With my wooly hat and my hair spilling out of it in the light breeze, I reasoned that I looked about as feminine as the rest if you didn’t see my Alex drab below. The only problem is that Chloe and Sarah were both taller than me.

There was a small step for kids that ran along the gunwale to allow them to see over the side so I stepped up on it to allow myself to be seen between the girls more evenly. With Emma and Tina up front, we had a decent little gaggle of grinning rosy-cheeked faces aimed at the camera.

Yeah, that is a weirdly specific amount of buildup for a photograph, isn’t it? Why am I setting this up so much? Does a boy come out and remark just how similar I am to the other girls, immediately outing me as one of them? Does Gary appear to kick off World Gender War Three? No, it was actually far worse than that - if you can possibly imagine - although I think if you’re smart you noticed exactly what happens next.

The drunken office workers to our left, all of whom had clearly been on the booze long before they boarded our cruise let off an almighty cheer, and the guy who nearly flattened Tina wobbled violently towards us again. What happened felt like slow motion, even to this day.

The idiot staggered right and Tina, sensing impending fuckery, took a step forward and out of his path. He impacted Chloe fairly heavily, which sent her into me. My position on the little step had me just out of balance enough for the unthinkable to happen.

Feeling yourself fall and being unable to stop it is one of the most unpleasant experiences in your life, believe me. As I tipped backward, I let out a squeal before disappearing over the railing. The fall itself was perhaps fifteen feet, but it felt like it took an eternity.

Hitting the water was a blur of sensations. The most memorable feeling I can describe is the sensation of the air leaving my lungs as the shock of the icy water enveloped me. I was overwhelmed with sounds, sensations, and panic in less than a second.

I slipped beneath the surface and was enveloped by the inky blackness of the frigid Rhine. There was no sound, no light, and no sensation of movement. I felt like I was suspended in the void of space, my body, weightless and insensate. The truth is I was underwater for perhaps a second or two before my head broke the surface once again.

I reentered the world of the living to a riot of sound and sensation that assaulted my hypothermic mind like a flashbang grenade. The ship’s engines were roaring as it reversed throttle and the wake slapped me in the face, momentarily choking me as I swallowed a mouthful of murky water.

Above me, I could hear the ship’s horn blasting out alarm and shouts of “Mann über Bord!” echoing out into the still air.

The huge white hull was passing by me less than five feet away and I managed to just about recover enough of my senses to kick away, lest I be sucked below and dragged into the propellers. My limbs felt heavy and all of my motions felt delayed, as though relayed by elastic cable before reaching my muscles.

I spluttered and coughed up a lungful of river water and waved an arm up at the faces staring down at me over the railing. I distinctly remember that moment… my hand in front of my face, reaching up and yet, unable to form words to call for help no matter how hard I tried. In that moment I felt true panic, true terror that I might not be saved.

The world around me got fuzzier and more distant, the sounds and wails of sirens and ship’s whistles less solid. I could feel myself slipping, tiredness starting to encroach on my mind. I did not mentally process it at the time, but hypothermia was beginning to take effect, my body shutting down to protect my vital organs against the cold. I had been in the water barely two minutes and I was already beginning to succumb to its icy grip.

A splash of water hit me in the face as a bright orange shape landed in front of me, barely two feet away. It was enough of a shock to bring me back from the fog and I grabbed out for the object with desperate, thick, tingling fingers. That object? A plastic life ring.

I felt the ship getting vaguely bigger, rather than recognizing that I was being pulled through the water towards it. All my foggy mind knew was that I needed to hold on to the ring as if my life depended on it. In this case, it absolutely did.

The next thing I knew, strong hands were hauling me up and out of the water. Somehow being up in the air, I felt suddenly far colder than when I had been in the water. Before I knew it, I was being hauled over the railing and onto the deck.

"Fräulein, können Sie mir hören? Wie fühlen Sie sich?”

“Alex!” A voice screamed, “Holly!”

I blinked and stared up at the bearded man in confusion. “I… don’t.”

“Ah, English,” he nodded sternly. “Fräulein, you can hear me? Are you hurt?”

“Just… cold,” I chattered, my body starting to shake violently out of my control as I was swaddled in blankets.

Two human-shaped blurs appeared beside me, I’m pretty sure Tina and Chloe. “Holly, shit, are you ok?”

“Mädchen, bitte, give her room, please.” The man ordered, waving the two off.

I could hear the engines revving up once more as the deck below me started to vibrate. “I… slipped… fell.” I chattered.

“We know, we got you fast, ok? We’re going to get you inside and warm now, we are returning to our berth.”

“Holly,” Another voice called out, “Let me through, she’s my student.”

Frau Whistler appeared over me, her face looking white as a sheet. “Dear god, you’re ok. I was so worried, how are you? Are you okay?”

“She’s going to be ok, She needs to get warm and out of the wet clothing,” the crewmember directed to my educator. “You will help me get her inside?”

“Of course,” Frau Whistler replied, her eyes still wide with panic.

I felt myself lifted and carried inside and out of the cold, the warm interior almost as much shock as the ice of the river. Our little entourage made its way past a few startled passengers and through a doorway before heading down some stairs and into a crew area below decks.

I was placed gently on a sofa and surrounded immediately by Frau Whistler and the girls.

“Holly, shit, are you ok?” Tina begged, her eyes wild. “I thought we lost you.”

“Uh… cold,” I chattered, “cold but not dead, I think.”

The crewmen handed Frau Whistler some blankets. “I uh… you should probably get her out of those clothes, I will give you space; keep others out till you are suitable.”

My teacher nodded and the man left, closing the hatchway behind him.

My body was still fairly stiff and out of sync, I was, without fanfare, stripped to my underwear and wrapped in big heavy blankets.

“You certainly know how to make a splash.” Frau Whistler observed, a little more relaxed.

“It was those drunk guys,” Chloe spat as she towel-dried my river-soaked hair. “Those idiots shoved her overboard, they should be arrested.”

“When I heard screaming,” Frau Whistler grimaced, “someone said a girl went overboard… I feared the worst.”

“Uh… girl?”

Fiddleshits.

There was a knock at the door and Frau Whistler moved away to allow the crewman back in now that I was semi-decent.

“Girl?” I asked Tina thickly.

She gave me a look like I was confused. “Yeah, you’re a… oh fuck.”

Chloe raised an eyebrow before sharing her expression. “Oh my, I think… maybe it’s ok? We can just say it was a mistake, right?”

Frau Whistler returned with the crewman carrying a huge hot chocolate. “For her,” he gestured, “I thought she might still be cold.”

“Thank you,” I croaked, reaching out to grasp the mug. “I’m sorry for the fuss.”

“Ach so, it is not your fault, Fräulein,” the man shook his head and scowled. “We were getting close to cutting that party off, The purser should never have never allowed them onboard like that.”

“What is happening now?” Frau Whistler asked.

“We will be returning to Koblenz, the problem is we are almost half way on the excursion so, it will be around an hour or so with the current.” The man paused and listened to an earpiece. “The Captain is going to radio... No… ah, excellent.”

“What’s going on?” Frau Whistler asked.

The man smiled, “A Doctor has come forward, the Captain is having them brought down now.”

“I think I’m ok, really,” I gasp, realizing the potential implications.

“We insist, Fräulein, I am sure your Lehrerin also. You have hypothermia and it is for your own best health to get checked over.”

I shot my teacher a pained look but she mistranslated it and nodded somberly. “Thank you, tell your captain that we’re incredibly thankful for his assistance.”

“I will leave you to it,” the man said politely, “see that she warms up. I have… well, we have some dry clothes that should fit. It is not much but it might help her modesty. I would have found something more… plain, but it was all we had to spare unless she wishes to wear overalls from our engineer Rudi.”

The man deposited a bundle on the small table and smiled politely before returning above deck.

I’m about to be examined by some dodgy Deutsch Doktor on a ship, I’m not wearing any clothes and the whole flipping ship thinking I’m a girl. To cap it off, knocked overboard by stupid drunken idiots that will likely result in the Polizei being involved.

Well, shit.

 

Welcome back from Christmas break! I really wanted to release this episode Christmas week but I was several hundred miles from my PC with screaming toddlers to cuddle. I've been dying to see what you all think of this one and a big special thanks to Maddy Bell for allowing me to cameo her legendary heroine!
Alyssa.

 

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