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Dear Readers, This is a coming-of-age tale to help celebrate the publishing of Wildcat Summer as a Kindle book. I have gone back and cleaned up the whole first version and continued. There will be more. I hope you continue to enjoy this offering, and thanks for your patience.

The Barbie Bride

Everyone in our family thought of me as a quiet kid. That’s because I held my thoughts and opinions close to my heart, afraid to share my deepest secrets—what was inside of me.

But I was lucky to have my best friend, Brooke, living directly across the street. I loved being around her. She was special. I could take a deep breath and relax whenever I was with her. I could talk and say anything I wanted to.

Since my parents worked until late every day, our place was empty until they came home in the evening. Brooke’s mom, Mrs. Dombrowski, insisted I visit their house every afternoon. She and I would do homework at their dining room table when she was home. When Mrs. Dombrowski worked the afternoon shift at the hospital, we’d head to Brooke’s bedroom to finish our homework and play.

I’d often stop at her bedroom door and take a deep breath. One time, Brooke turned and looked at me with a smile.

“Howard, are you okay? You have the funniest look on your face.”

My eyes blinked a few times as I felt like waking up from a dream. I turned and laughed. “I love your room, Brooke. I'm just looking around at how bright and airy it feels. It smells so nice and always makes me happy.”

“You’re silly, Howard. It’s just a bedroom.”

Brooke’s bedroom was a typical girl’s bedroom with too many pillows, ruffles, and dolls. She had a dressing table, a big bed, a dresser, and a closet. Everything was white.

My bedroom was back in the corner of our house. Many shade trees around our yard made my bedroom cool but dark. It was small, with a desk, a dresser, and a single bed.

One time, when Brooke came over, we sat on the bed together. “I don’t want to say bad things, Howard. But your bedroom reminds me of a cell, like a prison.”

I laughed but had tears in my eyes. It was true. I was trapped inside a prison in my mind and my house. I would retreat there whenever things got rocky between my parents.

That’s why I enjoyed being at Brooke’s house. There were no negatives, no yelling, no cursing. It was a warm and inviting atmosphere. Her room was perfect. Sure, it was full of stuffed animals and pillows, but the colors were bright, and everything seemed happy.

And then there were the dolls. Brooke liked to play with them, and I’d follow along. After we finished our homework, we would play dolls. She had a doll house that her dad had made out of wood. Then she had the Barbie Dream House, a three-story house with rooms for everything. There was even a parking space for her pink car.

I always played along but never told her how much I enjoyed these times. Everyone knows that boys shouldn’t enjoy playing with dolls. I’d play along, pretending I was doing it all for her. But my urge to get lost inside her fantasy world was compelling. I had a hunger for that escape into a girl's world.

Every day, we’d play with her dolls and create complete stories. Brooke always decided what we’d do. Sometimes, we played with her baby dolls with their fat legs and arms. We’d be those babies, talking gibberish, crawling around the floor, and sucking on pacifiers. These two infants sometimes pulled themselves up and crawled around, holding onto the furniture. We’d coo and make baby noises. It was mindless fun.

Other times, we were two moms taking care of our infants. We’d hold those babies, chatting while changing our tiny children. We’d busy ourselves feeding, burping, and cuddling them. It was sweet, full of kisses and hugs. While caring for our newborns, we talked about our husbands at work and what we would cook that night for dinner.

But the best days were when we chose to play Barbies.

First, we’d decide whether to be a blonde Barbie or a brunette. After that, we’d choose names and decide on our dolls' fashions. Because our Barbies were best friends, dressing alike was always fun. The process of selecting outfits and getting dressed became part of the story. We’d discuss fashion and whether mini-skirts should be worn with tights. We’d talk about the latest fashions: long coats and short skirts. And both our Barbies would wear oversized fashion sunglasses and carry designer bags. Our Barbies always looked beautiful. I loved playing along with her fantasies because, secretly, they were mine, too.

When Brooke turned twelve, I attended her birthday party. She got many presents that day, but the one I couldn’t stop gazing at was a special Barbie—a Bridal Barbie! It was beautiful, and I couldn’t wait until after her party when we’d get to play with it. This Barbie had long, wavy golden hair. She wore a beautiful lace bridal gown with lots of petty coats. She had white high heels, a blue garter, and special underwear. I’d never seen Barbie wearing a white lace thong and a bustier. I must have stared for too long because Brooke started to tease me.

“Howard, I can’t believe you’ve never seen wedding lingerie before.”

All I could do was shake my head, look at her, and nod. I gulped. “It’s so beautiful.” I touched Barbie’s bustier and marveled at the lace.

Suddenly, Brooke hugged me tightly and whispered in my ear. “You want to see the real thing? My mom still has her wedding dress put away. ”

I could only nod as she took my hand and led me into her mom’s room.

I watched as Brooke started pulling clothing from hangers and drawers. She was taking stuff off hangers and out of drawers. I watched in amazement at her efficiency. She handed everything to me, piling it in my arms. Finally, as she grabbed a pair of white high heels, she grinned. “C’mon, Howard. I know what we can do. Let’s turn you into a Barbie bride.”

I had trouble hearing because my heart was pounding loudly. “Me?” My voice came out in a nervous squeak.

Brooke grinned, grabbed my forearm with two hands, and squeezed. She looked me in the eyes. “Sure, you know you’d love it. I saw you trembling when you saw her gown. Come on, Howard. You know you want to try. Right?”

Everything was swimming inside my head. I know I was flushed, and my heart was pounding so loudly I could hear it in my ears. All I could do was nod. My mouth was dry, and I was gasping for air. I was hyperventilating from all the self-induced excitment.

Then everything became a blur. As she directed, I remember getting undressed and Brooke sliding a pair of panties up my legs. She giggled at my Willie and squeezed it as she pushed it back between my legs. She showed me how to tuck my testicles up inside my body so they disappeared. I was surprised how everything fit so well after that. The shiny, satin, white lace thong held all my boy parts back in place, and the space in front and between my legs became flat. Brooke inspected me and ran her hand over my panties. She smiled.

Brooke dressed me one piece at a time, just like she’d do with a doll. As she slipped different articles on, she talked to me like I was a real bride on her wedding day. She’d talk about my handsome boyfriend, who I would soon marry. We talked about where he was taking me on our honeymoon and how many children we planned on having.

After the panties, she pulled a camisole over my head and adjusted the straps. She ran the palm of her hand across my chest and murmured, “Your chest is so smooth. I love it.” She impulsively kissed my cheek. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

I smiled, trying to catch my breath. All I could do was nod as she sat me down. Brooke rolled stockings up my legs. She used her hands to pull and smooth the material to remove all the wrinkles. She laughed as I shivered from her touch. “Aren’t they wonderful? They are so sexy. I doubt my mom ever wears pull-up stockings anymore. She’s all about pantyhose.”

Then, she gently ran a soft blue garter up my leg and halfway up my thigh. Her hands felt so smooth and gentle as she caressed me. I was thankful that Brooke had tucked me backward so I didn’t embarrass myself by getting too excited.

Then she helped me up, turned me around, and held my hand while I stepped into the gown spread out on the floor. We both pulled it up, and she laughed as she fastened all the buttons. “Oh, Howard. You have such a tiny little body. You’re so young looking with no hips or butt. We need to start fattening you up before your husband sees you on your wedding night. But I’m sure that those curves will all happen eventually.”

I nodded, wondering at her words. I knew she was playing, but in my heart, that’s what I’d dreamed about, too. I could only hope that those dreams would come true for me. I’d been around Brooke long enough to notice her body starting to change and fill out.

Thanks to the internet, I’d read about all those details online on how boys' and girls’ bodies went through puberty and started to change. I was well-versed in how some boys could make themselves female. It was secretly what I wanted, too. But those stories were about older girls and boys who would have surgeries and take shots and pills.

I felt myself tugged and moved around as Brooke adjusted the dress to fit me better. Then she sat me down, fluffed up my shaggy hair, and used makeup on my face.

I had to hold perfectly still while she practiced being a makeup artist. When she was done, she held my arm and had me stand in front of the mirror. Through my tears of joy, I saw a young girl in a wedding dress. The shoes were tight, but everything else was a dream.

“Oh, Howard. You are pretty enough to be the flower girl or even at the wedding party! You look beautiful!”

I stood there staring, feeling the tears running down my cheeks and wetting my neck. The next thing I knew, Brooke was holding me tightly as I sobbed.

I moaned. “Oh, Brooke. I feel so beautiful, and it feels right.”

Brooke hugged me closer. “Remember that feeling and carry it with you forever. You are beautiful, Howard, and someday you will be a real bride, too.”

After a while, when I calmed down, we sat on the bed, holding each other. Brooke squeezed me tightly and occasionally kissed my face. It took me a while to stop crying.

When I finally stopped, Brooke smiled. “Oh, Howard. You lost it there, didn't you? I knew you were keeping a big secret, and I’m glad this finally happened. I think I always knew that you were a girl like me.”

I started crying again. “I’m so ashamed.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m all messed up inside. I never wanted to tell anyone. How come you don’t hate me or laugh at me?”

This only made Brooke hug me tighter. “I love you, Howard. You’re my best friend. But I always knew you were a girl. We played together too many times, and you made such a good Barbie when we played. But now, we’ve got to get you out of my mom’s dress and package it back up. I don’t want it to get wrinkled. After that, we can find you other pretty clothes to wear.”

I let Brooke help me step out of her mom’s dress and then peel off her lingerie. I had to grin when she grabbed my Willie again. I had to stretch myself to get my testicles out. It was almost like they belonged up there, back inside my body.

Brooke grinned as she played. “You know, this is my first Willie. I’ve always wondered what it would feel like.”

It didn’t take much for everything to get excited. I moaned and then erupted in her hand. We were both shocked, but Brooke smiled. She stuck a finger in the pool in the palm of her hand and put it in her mouth. Then she scooped up another finger of goo and stuck it into my mouth. I sucked on her fingers.

“What do you think, Howard? It tastes different from everything I’ve ever tried. It’s quite slimy. Do you like it?”

I shrugged. I didn’t want to mention that I’d tasted it before.

Suddenly, she kissed me right on the mouth. She stuck her tongue in my mouth, and we both had slimy stuff to swirl around. I was pretty shocked.

I just stood there. It was my first kiss, and it was from my best friend.

I watched as she went to her drawers and pulled out underwear. Then, smiling, she went to her closet and picked out a yellow dress. She held it up to me for my approval, and I nodded. “Do you like this?”

I had to take a deep breath before I could talk. “Yes. It’s beautiful.”

“Would you like to try it on?”

I nodded and steadied myself on her bed. I was so excited and afraid I was going to get so dizzy that I’d pass out.

Brooke smiled and laughed with me as she dressed me in her clothes. “Howard, I’ve never seen you so happy.”

I giggled. “Oh, Brooke. I’m feeling fireworks going off inside my body. This is so unreal. But please call me Haley. I want that to be my new name.”

“Haley. That’s such a beautiful name. It’s so pretty, just like you.”

I did feel pretty. I looked in the mirror and saw a twelve-year-old girl in a pretty yellow dress. She was wearing makeup, and her hair was fluffed out and pretty. The thought that immediately ran through my mind was that I wanted to get my ears pierced.

From that day on, you can imagine how things changed.

After the Barbie bride epiphany, Brooke became my guiding angel, opening my eyes and heart.

It was all so wonderful. I looked forward to going to her house every afternoon. Her mom gave us fresh fruit and something to drink when she was home. During the weeks she worked different shifts at the hospital, we could go straight to Brooke’s room and play.

But now, before we did our homework and played with her dolls, I would take all my clothes off. As I stood there naked, Brooke would pick out an outfit for me from her drawers. I was a little taller but not too different in size from her. I could wear all of her clothes. She’d even let me wear a bra that we’d stuff with socks, so I had a pair of boobies under my outfits, too.

We stopped playing with her dolls as much and started playing dress-up all the time. Instead, each day, Brooke would use her imagination to pick a theme before we dressed. She would announce, “Today, we’re going to pretend to sit outside by the pool and catch some rays.”

With just a few words, that meant I would dress in one of Brooke’s swimsuits and a terry cloth coverup. We’d choose various colors and styles. We’d talk and debate as we dressed. It was like putting on a play for just the two of us. On other days, we’d pretend to go to the mall or even a school dance. I looked forward to all those afternoons. After sitting in school trying to pay attention and be a good student, I could burst free when Brooke would dress me. And I could become a real girl, too. Life was so much better when I could giggle and laugh. I felt so much more relaxed and happy.

Brooke had fun, too. “You know, Haley. We are starting to run out of clothes. I had to go to my sister and dig out all the boxes full of her clothes, too.”

I panicked. “What did you tell her?”

“The truth. I told her how wonderful you were and you were secretly transsexual. I described what we’d been doing, and she was totally on your side. All she did was ask me how she could help you.”

I was shocked that she could accept me without laughing. “Oh, that’s so wonderful. Your sister seems like a wonderful person.”

Brooke hugged me. “I want to introduce her to Haley soon. I think it would be great to have her on your side.”

Suddenly, I felt a chill. “I’m glad Melody wants to help me, but that worries me, too. What if we tell someone who only wants to hurt or make fun of me? I wonder how many people can keep my secret?”

Brooke looked at me. “Who shouldn’t know? Who would care?”

I shook my head and wiped a tear from my eye. “I don’t think that people at the school should know yet. I’ve read about crazy people who think that trans people are diseased or mentally ill. If Haley goes to public, it might upset many people.”

Brooke nodded. “Then it will be our secret until you give the okay. But I know that Melody can be trusted and will help you as much as possible.”

I wish to leave Howard behind forever and become my girl self full-time. I dreamed of being Haley.

However, as much as I wanted to, I held back from telling my family how I felt. I believed everything would be fine if I could sit down and share with my mom. I knew that if we talked together, she’d understand. My mom had always encouraged me and told me how much she loved me.

My father was the biggest roadblock to talking about my inner girl. I was afraid of him. He was a tough man to speak with, exchanging thoughts or ideas. He was much more interested in telling you what you should do. He acted like every decision, every move he’d ever made was a winner. He never listened to me, and I knew he’d be impossible to speak with about my transsexualism.

Joseph Emerson was an angry man. My father was always upset and blamed everyone for his failures. Whenever something bad happened, it was never his fault. He’d say that the world was against him.

He always had lots of things to complain about. It was his mother’s fault that he couldn’t go to college. She didn’t have the money. And he couldn’t go to law school because I came along, and he had a family to support. It wasn’t his fault that he had a low-paying job. His bosses didn’t see his potential. He even knew that the mechanic at the gas station lied and cheated him when the car needed repairs. He used to say that they raised the cost of gasoline when they saw him coming. He would complain that no one ever respected or listened to his words.

Every day, my father came home angry, cursing about all the jerks doing him a disservice. And his complaining got louder as he’d drink. As soon as he walked in the door, he’d have a large tumbler of scotch before dinner. And another glass of scotch and ice while he ate dinner. And whenever he left the table, he’d freshen a drink and take it to the TV room. I always associated him and the clinking of the ice in his glass.

It was a shame because Mom wanted us to sit and eat dinner together, and she wanted us to all be happy. But my father would dominate the conversation, talking about himself and the injustices being done to him. After several drinks, he’d storm away from the table and withdraw to the family room. He’d sit in his Lazyboy and scream and curse at what he saw on the television.

My father hated everything and everyone. He hated black and brown people. He didn’t trust foreigners or women in charge. And whenever a gay person was on TV, he’d change the channel saying, “That’s my right. I don’t have to watch this shit!”

I’d be helping my mom clean up, and we’d both take a deep breath whenever he said mean and angry things about people. That’s why I knew that talking to him about being transsexual was a lost cause.

On the other hand, my mom had a master’s degree in counseling. She knew about kids and the troubles they faced growing up. But she never talked about her work with my father because it made him jealous. He knew she was much more intelligent and had a much better job. But none of that was ever discussed because my mom was afraid of her husband. My father browbeat her into thinking that if she didn’t do what he said, he’d leave her. He told her that without him, she would be all alone. He said that she’d die alone because no one would want her.

And that was my house. I did my best to stay out of my dad’s way. I kept my mouth shut and never said two words around him. I just did what I was told and kept it all inside. My world would have been pretty sad without Brooke and my Mom.

Every day after school, Brooke and I had playtime. We’d get off the bus at three o'clock, and those three hours with her kept me going. Sometimes, at home, I imagined I was still dressed in girl’s clothes, offering to help my mom make dinner or clean up.

Most of the time after dinner, I hid in my room doing homework or exploring the internet. That’s when I’d go online and look at dresses and fashion. I loved looking at models on the runways showing off the latest couture. My dream was to someday work in the fashion industry and be a model. I fantasized a lot.

Brooke shared my story about me with her older sister. Melody was a senior in high school. She looked like Brooke, except her hair was blonde and wavy. She was kind and encouraging. She wanted me to explore my female side. She even dug out boxes of her old clothes for me, too. And she was caring. Whenever she saw me, she called me Haley. And when she talked about Brooke and me, she always said, “ You girls.” Melanie was the one who suggested I get my haircut when they went to their salon.

I would have loved to do that, but I didn’t know how to ask my parents. When Melody suggested that, I shook my head at the suggestion. “Honestly, I don’t know how I could do that. Even though my mom wants me to get my hair trimmed and shaped, I don’t know how that would go with my dad. Mom never cared that I was letting my hair get longer. She only wanted it to look clean and presentable. But Dad was constantly giving me a hard time.”

Melanie smiled at Brooke. Then she turned back towards me, running her fingers through my hair. “No problem, Haley. We can get you a Pixie or a Bob, so when you’re Howard, you wet it and comb it into place. Whenever you want to be Haley, we can fluff it up and give you bangs.”

I wanted to go to a salon and let them style my hair. And when I approached my mom about getting my hair cut where Brooke and Melody went, she smiled and hugged me. “Of course. Take my credit card to pay for it, and make sure you leave a generous tip. I can’t wait to see the results.”

My mom seemed pretty happy that I volunteered to get my hair cut. It seemed too good to be true, so I cross-examined her. “You know I’m going to a salon, the one where the Dombrowski girls go?”

She smiled and hugged me. “Of course, sweetie. I think those girls have been a good influence on you. You’ve gotten a positive attitude since you started spending more time over there.”

Sure, I thought. Life had gotten so much better since I could be Haley every afternoon. I felt freer inside. I smiled a lot more, too. “Uh-huh. I enjoy hanging around Brooke. She’s very caring.”

Mom ran her fingers through my hair. “Well, I like it shaggy. You don’t have to come home with a crew cut to please me.”

I laughed. “Dad would probably like me more if I got a buzz cut.”

Mom frowned. “Honey, I’m afraid there’s nothing you or I can do to please your father. He’s not a happy person. And that’s why I love you twice as much.” She gave me a great big hug. As she was holding me, she sniffed. “You smell nice. Has Brooke been giving you her moisturizer when you wash up?”

I smelled like Brooke because I used the same shampoo, moisturizer, and many of her creams. “Uh, kinda. She gave me some of the same stuff she uses. Is that okay?”

Mom hugged me tightly. “Of course, sweetie. I love it. You smell as sweet as you are. It’s nice when your child is interested in their hygiene.”

Three days later, Brooke’s sister, Melody, drove us to Anthony’s, a salon downtown. I was very nervous, but they both guaranteed everything would be fine.

We parked, and as we walked through the doors, a woman came over and greeted Melody with a hug and a kiss. Melody had her arm around her friend’s waist. “Haley, this is my girlfriend, Jaynie. She’d going to cut your hair.”

Jaynie was tall and looked at my face as she ran her fingers through my hair. “Oh, Haley. You have such beautiful hair, so nice and thick. It’s not often that I get to cut someone who has such gorgeous red hair. I can’t wait to make you more beautiful!”

I panicked and whispered to her. “But you know I have to still look like a boy at school. I’m transgender.”

Jaynie wrapped her arm around me and led me back to her station. “Oh, baby. It’s all good. I will make your haircut so nice you can slick it back during school, fluff it up, and brush it out when you’re Haley. Okay?”

I smiled and eagerly nodded.

“Do you trust me?”

I shrugged. “Sure, I guess.”

As I sat there, Jaynie talked. “I will give you a modified wolf cut that can be tamed with some product. So, at school, it will just be a shaggy haircut. But when we fluff it up, it’ll frame your face and look so cute with a bit of makeup.”

When Jaynie finished, she added product and slicked it flat. I looked at it, and it looked fine. I would be camouflaged in school all day long.

I nodded eagerly.

Then she whispered, “Now, are you ready to look pretty?”

I smiled.

Jaynie ran her fingers through my hair, letting the product give it more body, not less. Then, she used a hairdryer and a large round brush to tease my hair. After it shot up in the air in every direction, she shaped it until it surrounded my face and made me look beautiful. She even added a touch of lip stain and mascara. I had tears in my eyes as I thanked her.

I did just as my mom suggested and gave her a big tip. As we left, Jaynie grabbed my hand and said, “You’ll need to see me once every four weeks for a trim.”

The car ride home was excellent. I felt so beautiful. When Melody dropped us off, my mom’s car was in the driveway. Without thinking, I stepped out and said I’d see everybody tomorrow.

After walking into the house, I realized I was still wearing one of Brooke’s outfits, my hair was teased and shaped, and I hadn’t cleaned off the bits of mascara and lip stain. My brain had shorted out when I saw how pretty I looked back in the salon. I wasn’t thinking.

Mom greeted me at the door. She smiled as she looked me up and down. “Hi, baby.” She gave me a big hug.

Suddenly, I realized I was still wearing my favorite yellow top and pleated skirt. I stood there and started crying, wondering what I had just done.

As I cried, Mom wrapped me in her arms and squeezed. She shushed me and told me that everything was okay.

I sobbed. “But it’s not okay. I’m all messed up. Why do I feel this way? And all I want is to be Haley, not Howard.”

Looking back at that moment, I realize that my mom was incredible. As I stood there crying, she hugged me and whispered, reminding me that I was wonderful and did not have a mean bone in my body. “You are sweet and kind. You are caring. You are perfect.”

I only sobbed harder because my mom was describing my insides. Outside, I was wearing a padded bra under my cute white top. I had on a yellow cotton pleated skirt and white ballet flats. I wore mascara and a little lip stain on my face. I’d just had my hair done in a salon, and it looked perfect. The bangs touched my shaped eyebrows, and my new style framed my face. I was a perfect example of a twelve-year-old, except for one thing. I was not a girl.

All of this only made me sob harder and squeeze my mom around her waist. I loved her and only wished that I was the real thing. But I was Pinocchio. I wasn’t real. “Oh, mom. Why am I so messed up? Why do I have all these thoughts that won’t go away?”

Mom kissed me on my cheek. “Oh, baby. You are fine. There is nothing wrong with you. All those thoughts are the feelings you’d been repressing all your life. You are not bad and are doing your best to cope with everything you feel. I only wish I could wave a magic wand and change everything. But believe me when I promise you that it will all happen. It will take time and work, but we will get you there together.”

My head swam. My mom was telling me everything I wanted to hear. She was not telling me I was wrong or crazy. Right then and there, my mom became the best person in my life. I laughed and excitedly blurted, “You’re my fairy godmother.”

She grinned and touched the tip of my nose. “Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo! I wish my magic wand wasn’t in the shop being cleaned. Oh, honey. I know all about the pain you’ve been suppressing and how you’ve been hiding your true self. But remember that you have a mom who loves you. I’m on your side.

I couldn’t stop sobbing. “I’m so torn up inside. I love the girl in me. I want to be Haley, but returning to being Howard is so painful. I don’t want to do it.” I stared at her face. “But, yeah. I know I have to.”

Mom squeezed the breath out of me. “Whether you are Haley or Howard, I love you. And my job is to make you happy. I promise to help you become Haley and do whatever it takes. But…”

“Yeah, I know what that but means. My dad doesn’t want to hear that his son has a girl inside. He would kill me.”

My mom had tears in her eyes. “Honey, we aren’t going to change his mind tomorrow. It won’t happen overnight, but we can pray and hope he will change. In the meantime, let’s take some photos of just how nice you look. We can look at those photos whenever we want. And we don’t need your father’s permission to start talking to a psychologist and get you on the road to transition.”

After Mom took photos with her phone, I returned to my bedroom and removed my top and skirt. I carefully removed my bra with the padding and pulled down my panties. My willie was so used to being tucked back that I had to urge it forward. I laughed because it was the same problem with my testicles. My boy parts seemed happy to be tucked away, and I was glad to ignore them.

After showering, I carefully brushed my hair and combed it flat. When I was all done drying off and putting on my boy clothes, I frowned. I didn’t want to be doing this, but I was trapped. Everything I read told me that nothing would change until I was older.

Even though I was Howard every day in school, life continued. I’d wet my hair and dress Howard each morning. I’d go to school.

In school, most of my classmates and the teachers just assumed I was gay. Even though I was as tall as the other guys, I never wanted to be big and strong. I watched everything I ate, and all my exercises were to keep me flexible. I did yoga and stretches. At home, I danced while watching YouTube videos. Some of the guys called me a Twink or a fairy. None of those names or the occasional shove upset me. Of course, I wanted to tell them that they were all wrong and I was trans, but I was too smart to say a word.

In my seventh grade, all the girls and gay guys were my close friends. Even some of the straight guys treated me okay. It wasn’t too bad, and I would count the minutes each day until I could go over to Brooke’s house.

Everything was working out. I had a routine where I could tolerate being Howard as long as I knew that Haley was still inside me. Knowing that Haley could come out and play every afternoon kept me going. I counted the days until the end of school when I would leave Howard behind and be Haley.

While we were both excited to enter eighth grade in September, we enjoyed discussing our summer and plans.

Brooke was so positive. “Haley, this is going to be so great. We’ll spend more time at my house and do many cool things.”

I dreamed about that same thing. All I could think about was more Haley time and being a real girl.

In my world, everything was getting better. Those afternoons were a dream come true. I learned to use a curling iron and a blow dryer on my new hairstyle. I’d even started to do more than clean up my eyebrows; I began to shape them. I’d look in the mirror daily to see Haley getting prettier and much happier.

Brooke helped me practice using makeup, and every afternoon was a joy. We’d still hang out, lying on her bed and talking. We even started to plan Haley’s future. We had it all worked out. I planned to come out as Haley in high school and go full-time as a transsexual female. I’d have those four years as Haley, and life would always be happy. Then, Brooke and I would go to college together. Brooke would meet a boy and fall in love. I would be her maid of honor.

Deep inside, I always dreamed that someday I’d meet an extraordinary boy who would understand what transgender meant. He’d love me for whom I was, and we’d get married. Brooke and I even talked about honeymoons. Sometimes, we’d get our baby dolls out and carry on like two young mothers caring for our newborns.

What made it better was that now that summer was here, Haley and Brooke could go to the mall with Melody. She’d drive us and always bring along a girlfriend. I realized Melody's true love was the young woman cutting my hair. It was cool to hear her talk and how much she loved her.

I felt like I was living my authentic life whenever I was with Brooke. It was all I wished for until the one day that everything went sideways.

One Saturday afternoon, we sat in her backyard, talking and drinking Cokes. We could hear Brooke’s next-door neighbor taking the garbage cans to the curb for the Monday pickup.

Her neighbor, Mr. Johnson, smiled as he returned to his house. “Hi, Brooke. How are you today?”

Brooke smiled. “I’m doing well. How are you, Mr. Johnson?”

They exchanged pleasantries, and he asked, “Who’s your friend?”

I turned and smiled. I was wearing mascara and lipstick, and I’d done a great job curling and blowing out my hair, so I thought I looked perfect. I was also wearing a baby blue romper and flip-flops. I felt like a perfect Haley.

“Why, Mr. Rogers, this is my friend Haley Emerson. She lives across the street.”

I smiled and gave him a little wave.

But Sunday night at dinner, my father directed his face towards me and let his anger explode. He glared and said in a raspy voice, “I played golf with Johnson from across the street today. He told me what a pretty young lady I had for a daughter. He even warned me, telling me my girl would break some hearts. Girl? Howard, what the hell is going on?”

I didn’t know what to do. I knew no matter what I said, I would be ignored. I was frustrated and started to cry. I was shaking when I blurted everything out. “I’m transgender. I was born in the wrong body, and I’m a girl inside. I dress just to be the real me. Mr. Johnson saw the real me over at Booke’s house, and she introduced me as Haley.”

“I’m sorry if you’re upset. I never thought it would make you mad if I kept it a secret and dressed when I was across the street.” Through my tears and blubbering, I begged him to accept me for who I was.

I never had dinner that night. Without another word, my father grabbed my arm, pulled me out of my chair, and dragged me through the family room to the basement stairs. I could hear my mom’s screams as I was bounced down the basement steps. I know I crashed into the wall and hit each step as I was dragged down to the basement.

I cried and begged. I asked him to forgive me and promised a lot of things. But that didn’t do any good. Suddenly, he had his hand around my neck and squeezed until I couldn’t talk and had trouble breathing. My father dragged me over the table where he used to groom our standard poodle.

He would sit the dog on a stainless steel table about three feet high. Above the table, a long metal pole extended with a metal cable and a dog collar adjusted to wrap around the dog’s neck to keep him from moving. There was also a harness that could strap the dog into place.

I felt myself dragged up onto the table and the collar going around my neck. I know I was screaming and fighting him as I felt him pull the cable that tightened the collar. I was still kicking and screaming. Without saying a word, my father stared at me and punched me on my chin.

I blacked out.

When I recovered, I was attached to the table. The steel rod kept me upright and in place. He’d wrapped a restraining harness around me so I couldn’t move. I was choking and could barely breathe. I kept trying to apologize as I heard him turn on the clippers.

With one hand, he started slapping me everywhere on my body. At the same time, I felt the clippers shaving my head. Through tear-filled eyes, I watched all my beautiful hair cascading to the ground. I squirmed and tried to fight, but the collar was too tight.

That’s when everything went black.

I woke in a strange bed. Looking around, I saw tubes and machines. I heard the sounds of monitors. I fell asleep again and woke up crying. Someone put a straw in my mouth, and I sucked in cold water. I drank too fast and started to gag. That’s when I heard a familiar voice.

“Take it slowly. Your throat is bruised.”

I turned and smiled at my mom. Looking at her face, I could see she’d been crying. I realized I couldn’t move my arm. I turned and saw that I was in a cast and looked at her.

She whispered. “Your collarbone’s been broken and will take time to heal. Your throat is bruised from the dog collar.”

Everything came back to me in a flash. I remembered the basement and the pain. I knew how my arm had been broken and why my throat was sore. I felt the tears trickle down my cheeks. I worried that my father would appear in the doorway. I could still see his angry face and feel the spittle as he screamed. I feared he’d return and kill me.

I stared at my mom. She looked tired. I felt her hand wipe my forehead with a washcloth. From the look in her eyes, I must have looked terrible.

Suddenly, I wanted a mirror to see what damage had been done.

“Mom, do you have a mirror?”

She reached into her purse and brought her iPhone. She reversed the screen to make it a mirror. She held it so I could see my face. I looked like a prisoner of war. My face was bruised where I’d been slapped and hit. All the marks were red hot and ached. My eyes were blackened, and I looked more like a raccoon than a human. I had a large gauze patch taped across my nose. Everything ached and itched.

I ran my tongue around the inside of my mouth. And while everything hurt, I could still feel my teeth. “Mom, can you scratch my nose?”

I heard her laugh. “I can’t reach the surface. They had to straighten out your nose when you were brought in. You’re just lucky they had a plastic surgeon on call.”

I started coughing again. Mom held the straw to my mouth. As I sipped more water, it reminded me that I couldn’t move. “What did you say was broken?”

“One of your collarbones is cracked, a green break.”

I realized that’s why I’d passed out in the basement. I could still feel a throbbing, dull pain radiating from my shoulder. I saw a band running across my chest to keep me from moving. “Why can’t I move?”

“You were thrashing around, and the nurses restrained you so you didn’t hurt yourself. I can release that now.”

I watched my mom lean over and undo the strap. It made me feel better to be able to move around. I was surprised at how much everything ached whenever I moved. “Can I go home? Is Dad waiting for me? Am I in trouble?”

Before I could say another word, Mom kissed me on the cheek. “No, you aren’t in trouble, but your father certainly is. He was arrested and is in jail.”

I must have looked shocked.

“I saw him drag you down the stairs and called 9-1-1. I was still on the phone when he strapped you into the dog’s grooming table. When the police arrived, your father wouldn’t listen to them and kept beating you. That’s when they had to use a Taser to drag him off of you. After they took him to jail, I refused to post bail. He has a hearing coming up, and our lawyer is claiming he’s dangerous and shouldn’t be released.”

I was shaking uncontrollably just hearing all of this. “I’m scared.”

Mom looked at me. “Honey, stop worrying. He’s never coming back into our lives. I’m done with him.”

“But what if he wants to hurt us?”

Mom blushed. “I unlocked the gun cabinet and loaded a shotgun and a pistol. Our lawyer is asking for a restraining order, and if he comes near us, I’m going to shoot him.”

I lay there thinking about everything that was happening. I knew my father had guns. He was always worried that ‘they’ might come and try to take our house. I was surprised at how angry Mom must have been to talk like that.

She stared at me. “We need to be brave, move forward, and start a new life. Our lawyer is asking for a restraining order if they let him out. But he’ll have to raise his bail money from somewhere else.”

I lay there for a while, held Mom’s hand, and squeezed it. When my heartbeat slowed, I thought about myself. “When will I get out of here, and when will they take off the cast?”

“You’re going home today. The doctor said that within the week, they’ll be able to start cutting back on the plaster cast on your shoulder and get you in a sling. She assured me that you’ll heal quickly.”

It was hard to move. Even free of the straps running across my chest, the cast on my collarbone and shoulder limited my mobility. I was getting frustrated as I felt the tears pooling on my face. I released a long sigh. I moaned. “I’d never been so scared. And it was all my fault.”

My mom turned her head and stared at me. “Haley! Your fault? Why?”

I loved the fact that everything was out in the open. My mom and all the nurses had been calling me Haley. Even though I hurt all over and had the worst headaches, it made me happy inside. I sighed. “You know. Suppose I’d never told anyone about my wanting to be a girl. If I’d just kept it a secret, well, Dad wouldn’t have beat me, and he wouldn’t be in jail, and everything would still be perfect.”

I felt my Mom’s hand brush my cheek. “Nonsense, baby. None of this is your fault. Your father was waiting to explode. Whether it had been you, me, or some innocent driver who’d cut him off, he was a walking timebomb.”

I looked at her face. She looked so tired and upset. I used my good hand to hold hers. “Maybe things will change.”

“No, honey. Nothing is going to get better. Your father is never coming back. Our lawyer told me he would ask the judge to have him stay in jail until his court trial. Our lawyer will share what he’s done to us at the hearing. I’ve kept all my medical records going back to the first time he hit me.”

“The first time?”

She wiped her eyes. “Yes, I’ve been hit several times. And each time, I got photographs and X-rays. But I was afraid to tell my parents. I started covering up for him. But no more. We’re going to ask the judge to keep him locked up and treated for his mental illness, too. I can’t hate him, but we will build a case for a restraining order.

“Well, I still was the one that flipped him out.”

“No. You never did anything. He was too busy worrying about himself. He never thought of you or me. He got bent out of shape because he was embarrassed over suddenly having a trans child. He never discussed this with you or me. His opinions were so skewed and angry that the world passed him by. There was no reasoning with him.”

I watched her shake with emotions. Then she lowered her voice and talked. “Fifteen years ago, when we married, he was so different. He laughed, he made jokes, and he loved me. But things slowly changed when you were born. I thought he loved you, but when I discovered he was jealous of you.”

I was listening and trying to picture their early days together. “Why?”

“I believe he wanted me all to himself, and I guess I was paying too much attention to you that I didn’t notice. It happened very slowly, but he started to get crazy. One time, he told me that you were the reason he couldn’t become a success. He said that working to take care of us ruined his future. After hearing him say angry things about you daily, I remember telling him I would leave. I told him I’d take you and move home. I knew my father would take care of us. And I told him that we wouldn’t be the excuse for his failures anymore. We wouldn’t be around to stand in his way.”

I squeezed her hand.

“When I talked back to him, things got quiet. Suddenly, I remember him hitting me and twisting my wrist until it became so sore it wouldn’t move. That’s when we left the first time. When we got to my parent’s house, my mom took me to a doctor. I got an x-ray and discovered that he’d snapped a bone in my wrist. My father was furious and wanted him arrested. But I begged him not to.”

“I didn’t hear from your dad for days. Of course, when he finally called, he was crying and apologizing, saying everything would change and he would be better. I believed him and moved back to our little apartment. But it slowly got worse.”

“Whenever he blew up and hurt me, I threatened him that I was leaving him, and he begged me to stay. But I made sure when I went to the doctor, he took pictures and sometimes even an X-ray. But I was ashamed to tell my parents and hoped things would improve. Finally, my mom and dad were getting too old to help me, and I was alone.

I watched her crying. I felt sad and helpless.

“Haley, it’s not your doing. I’m happy that you can be yourself, and I will make sure that things only get better. And we need to start things happening. We’ll make an appointment to see your pediatrician and get you a counselor to work with. I’ll become proactive and take all the steps necessary for you. I’m not ashamed of you, and I’m never blaming you. You have not done anything wrong.”

We were hugging when my hand touched the top of my head. I was crying tears of joy and got the shock of my life. I WAS BALD!

I must have made a noise. “Mom, what happened to my head?”

Mom hugged me as tightly. I still had my shoulder in a cast and the big bandage on my nose. Whenever her arm brushed my nose, I whimpered in pain. I was a mess, a bald mess.

“The clippers that your father used on you were dirty, and he cut the skin in several places. The doctors were afraid that there was a good chance of infection, and they worried about flesh-eating viruses. They decided shaving your head completely was the simplest and most secure option. Those deep cuts needed stitches. But you never knew because you were in a coma.”

“I was in a coma?”

I watched my mom wince. “It was so horrible. The doctors said that you were struck on your head and that you suffered a brain bleed. When the ambulance came, you were having a seizure and fell into a coma. I was so afraid for you.”

Listening to all this, I realized I didn’t know what had happened. I was sobbing uncontrollably. “What can I do about my hair?”

“The doctors assured me that you are young and healthy. They said that the average child grows ten inches of hair every year. That means by the time you are ready to return to school, you will have three inches of hair covering your scars.”

“Scars?”

Mom hugged me tightly. “Those gouges will heal and slowly fill back in. But right now, you have some cuts and bruises that need to heal. The best news is that you can keep that area clean without worrying about dirt or infection. The doctors all agreed that it was the best option, especially since they had to operate on your brain to release the pressure from the brain bleed.”

“Brain bleed?”

“Yes. When he banged you down the steps, your head repeatedly hit the basement steps, and you got a concussion. You had a seizure and went
into a coma.”

“Oh, wow. How long was I in a coma?”

Mom looked sad. But then she smiled. “You were unconscious for almost two weeks.”

I was trying to figure this all out. Two weeks! A coma!

After I calmed down, I fell back to sleep. I woke to voices, and when I opened my eyes, I met my doctors. They explained how my brain was healing and that I was not suffering any ill effects from my coma. The plastic surgeon explained that my nose had been destroyed by my father repeatedly punching me.

“I used your mother’s nose as my model. So when the swelling goes down, you’ll look a lot like her.”

I didn’t know it, but Brooke had visited me every day since I came out of surgery. Now that I was awake, she’d climb up in bed, and we’d spent afternoons watching videos together. Brooke was there when the plastic surgeon came in and removed the cotton stuffed up my nose and the cast on the outside.

He smiled. “You look good. When the swelling goes down, you’ll have a cute little button nose that will look beautiful. All the swelling should be gone by September when you return to school.”

Brooke and I hugged and cried together. “I’m sorry that this messes up our summer. I look so stupid. I’m bald, and I have raccoon eyes.”

My mom felt so bad that the first thing we did when I got home was go to the mall and buy me the cutest summer clothes. Brooke helped me pick out shorts and tops, and I had my underwear. Before we left the mall, Mom took us to Piercing Pagoda, where I got two holes in each ear.

A month later, my hair was forming a teddy bear buzz cut. Since mom let me wear mascara and I had hoops in my ears, no one doubted that I was the girl I wanted to be, just with a buzz cut. But that was good because I had a lot of cuts and stitches all over the top of my head.

About that same time, I met a new counselor who specialized in gender dysphoria among kids my age. I was going and talking to her twice a week. Sometimes, I’d go in and talk alone; sometimes, Mom joined us.

One day, we played outside, and Brooke looked at me strangely. “What?” I asked.

Brooke studied my head. “Your hair is coming in differently. It looks more bright red than reddish brown.”

We got out a mirror and studied it. When Mom came home, I told her about what we had discovered.

“You’ve got your grandmother’s color. She had beautiful wavy, red hair.”

“But Gran’s hair is silver.” I thought about it and nodded. “Oh.”

After thinking about what she said, I asked my Mom if she had any photos of Gran’s hair. Looking through the albums, I realized that my grandmother’s hair was gorgeous, and so was she. Her hair was long and wavy.

“See. If your hair stays that color, it will be beautiful. Especially with your new nose.”

My nose wasn’t that different, but it was smaller and turned up. Mom called it a button nose.

Then there was my new doctor. Mom had already talked to her. When I entered the office, everyone was as lovely as possible. My visit was longer than usual. She spent much time looking at my shoulder and checking my flexibility. Now that the smaller cast was removed, I was out of the bone doctor’s care. She also looked at the top of my head and seemed satisfied that everything had healed up and looked good.

My hair was two inches long and still looked like a crew cut but very curly. It looked okay, but everyone was amazed it was three shades lighter and much redder. Right?

The doctor finally asked me to get undressed and put on a gown. “Leave your underwear on.”

As she was examining me, she looked between my legs. She smiled at my panties. “Honey, are you tucked?”

I nodded.

“Well, could you untuck for me? I still need to check your genitals.”

I pulled down my panties and stepped out. I reached up between my legs and pried my testicles out, and pulled my cock around to the front.

The doctor watched and nodded. “How often do you keep yourself tucked?”

I smiled. “All the time. I untuck when I take a shower.”

“How do you go to the bathroom?”

I shrugged. “I always sit down.”

“Does it hurt to keep yourself tucked and your testicles pushed up inside you?”

I shook my head. “No. Everything stays that way, and it’s fine.”