A Spirited Emergence Episode 12: Consequences by D.L. Copyright  © 2010 D.L. All Rights Reserved. I think I pushed Dwain too far, he is up on the school roof, sat near the edge, crying.

We get up half an hour earlier in the morning, as we have to meet my teachers before school starts. Having dropped me off at the shop so I can project my boy self again, we continue to the school, arriving shortly before our half past eight appointment.

When we arrive there is a lot of commotion happening. I then see the reason. Dwain Scott is on the roof of the building, sitting near the edge, crying. He is two stories up on a section of flat roof over the main school offices.

Quickly remote viewing the area I see that he must have used an access door to the roof round the side of the building. The door is blocked from the outside and a number of staff members are trying to gain access to the roof.

Several teachers, including the principal, are trying to persuade him to get away from the edge and come down. He is ignoring them and seems quite content to sit and stare into space while sobbing. Dwain is clearly very upset, and is sitting in a dangerous position. He doesn’t appear to be making any effort to jump off the roof.

Mary is one of the onlookers. I go over to where she is standing and ask her what happened. It seems some of the other students have been teasing Dwain about his appearance in the video. I’m not the only person he’s been annoying, and many others are using the opportunity to get their own back on him. The video I made did stitch him up in a way that is hard to discredit as fake.

It seems that about five minutes ago he flipped and stormed off on the point of tears. Freddy tried to stop him, but he shoved him over into some lockers and fled up to the roof.

Without further thought, I slip to one side. After checking that the coast is clear, I project myself on top of the building. I appear crouching down and out of sight of any observers on the ground.

I quickly and silently move across to Dwain. Before he has chance to react to my presence, I grab him from behind, pulling him backwards. He ends up lying on his back on top of me in a bear hug.

“Oh no you don’t, mister,” I say to the startled boy, “I’m not letting you jump off any buildings while I’m around.”

“Let go of me you freak!” he shouts at me in vain. “My life is over thanks to you. You’re responsible for that video clip on YouTube. Nobody else hates me that much to go to the effort of faking it so well.”

“You’re right, I do hate you!” I exclaim. “If you stopped being such an annoying arsehole perhaps you wouldn’t alienate everyone.”

“Because of you I am now the laughing stock of the entire school,” he articulates, “I will never live this down.”

“Stop being so melodramatic, I’m in exactly the same position as you are. In fact, for me it’s worse. I’ve been outed as a cross-dresser. You can just claim it’s a joke, or that you were forced into making it against your will. I have no excuse for explaining walking by the river en femme. Are you going to deny inserting that clip into Macbeth? Those squirting stink bomb things didn’t appear by themselves. You only have yourself to blame,” I reply.

“The video wasn’t anything to do with me! What benefit would I get from showing something like that?” he replies.

I get the nasty feeling that I may have gone too far in publishing the video without confirming who outed me. I simply assumed he was behind it. In truth, it isn’t his modus operandi. If he had such a video, then he would have been more likely to try to blackmail me, like before. Besides, he isn’t exactly the most computer literate of people.

I note he didn’t deny planting the stink bombs. They are much more his style. Freddy’s father is a locksmith, which could explain how they knew how to get the lockers open.

I continue, “I have been putting up with crap from you and Freddy for months, all you are getting is a taste of your own medicine and you can’t handle it. You’re pathetic!”

“If you are trying to talk me out of jumping you’re doing a lousy job,” he shouts at me angrily, struggling more than before.

“Unlike you, I actually have a conscience, and I can’t just stand by and watch you hurt yourself without feeling at least partially guilty for pushing you into it. I’m doing this for my benefit, not yours,” I reply.

Following the Dirty Harry discipline of suicide prevention, I continue, “Besides, if you did decide to jump off, it would make a bloody mess on the pristine concrete below. Not to mention you could land on and injure one of the spectators. I have seen someone being killed close-up before, it’s not a pleasant experience.”

He is still struggling and flailing his legs around trying to kick me. It appears my attempts to talk him down have failed. I therefore rely on my backup plan of using brute force. I hastily bring my knee up between his legs, swiftly engaging my thigh with his testicles. This has the effect of subduing him due to the sudden pain. He grabs his crotch. I roll him sideways onto the roof and loosen my grip. He is now lying on my left arm, which I quickly free from under him by removing its density. I continue to roll Dwain until he is face down, and then kneel on him, placing my right knee in the middle of his back.

During our time on the roof, a police car has pulled up, sirens blazing. I call down to the officers, “Can I borrow some handcuffs?” One of them throws a pair up to me, which I catch, and I quickly handcuff Dwain’s right wrist to his left ankle behind his back. He is still too distracted by the pain in his groin to mount an effective fight back. Once cuffed, I start to drag him over towards the blocked door, away from the edge of the roof. He tries to struggle and resist further.

“Stop it,” I say, kicking him lightly in the stomach, “Behave and I might not inflict any permanent damage.”

I was going to head over to unblock the door, however this isn’t required as the people inside manage to force their way out onto the roof. They quickly come over and get hold of Dwain. One of them is a police officer, presumably the partner of the one on the ground. He releases the cuffs and puts them on properly while Coach Sanders and Coach Mitchell hang onto an arm each. Both of our sports teachers are large, strong people and Dwain is no match for their combined strength.

Dwain is quickly frogmarched down off the roof and toward the nurse’s office.

“How did you get up here?” the police officer asks me.

“I can climb,” I reply simply, hoping he won’t query it further. I follow the two coaches and Dwain off the roof, and the officer follows on behind after glancing around.

I meet up with my father at reception, who asks, “Nice moves, how come he was ever a problem to you in the first place if you were able to beat him up so easily?”

“Projections don’t bruise,” I answer softly, “It’s easy to win when you don’t have to worry about getting hurt. In addition, he seems a lot less intimidating in his current state. I don’t know if he was seriously thinking of jumping, but he seems to be dangerously depressed. He is usually a lot more boisterous and full of energy. Part of his problem is that he is quite often hyperactive.”

He nods and we both sit down on the easy chairs in reception. My father tells me that we will be seen soon, however dealing with Dwain has become a priority. A few minutes later Dwain is escorted to an ambulance by the police, and taken away. I hope they can help him.

Shortly afterwards we are called into a meeting room. The Principal, Mr Spencer, and Mr Francis, my homeroom teacher, are present.

“Sorry for the delay, you saw what happened with Dwain. Thank you for subduing him. How did you get up on the roof so quickly?” Mr Edwards, our principal, asks, “I saw you arrive and speak to Mary, then when I looked back round you were on the roof pulling Dwain to safety.”

I decide to dodge the question, “I couldn’t stand and watch, especially as my actions yesterday may have contributed to his state of mind. If anybody has a right to be upset, I do, not him. He’s just getting a taste of what he’s been putting me through for the last few months.”

“We heard what was said on the roof,” Mr Edwards replies, “Does that involvement have anything to do with the video that is now circulating via email? Is he right to accuse you of making it? Somehow I don’t think Dwain and Freddy would willingly put a film of themselves in a compromising position on the internet.”

“How exactly could I have made it?” I ask back, trying to divert the subject without answering the question. “I don’t have enough influence over those two to force them to appear in it. If I did then I could have stopped their annoyance months ago.”

Mr Edwards pauses, thinking about my response. As I suspect, unless I admit it they can’t pin anything on me.

“Let’s ignore the video of Mr Scott for the moment,” Mr Edwards continues, “and concentrate on what happened to you. We haven’t been able to prove who made and swapped the DVDs, and it doesn’t make a difference to your current situation. The rumour going round yesterday afternoon after the video and your outburst at Mr Scott is that you want to be a girl and like to dress as one. Are the rumours true?”

“I can be regarded as transgendered,” I answer, “I have identified myself as female for as long as I can remember, despite being outwardly male in appearance. I take it the video and my actions yesterday have well and truly outed me.”

“Screaming that you’re not a girl to be messed with did attract a lot of attention,” Mr Spencer confirms, “combined with your effeminate appearance and mannerisms, a number of students have put two and two together.”

“Is it your intention to start to come to school as a female student now that your secret has been revealed?” Mr Edwards asks.

“I haven’t made a decision on my future yet. There are certain legal and medical issues to be resolved. All this has happened so quickly. I had considered trying to transition over the summer break. I don’t want to attend as a girl while obviously being male. I would rather wait until such a time that I could convince people who don’t know my history that I’m a girl. I also want to see what level of abuse I am going to be subjected too. I may simply decide to drop out or seek transfer to another school if necessary, although I would rather stay here.”

“Mr Palmer, do you support your child’s position?” Mr Edwards asks my father.

“Yes, she is perfectly capable of making her own decisions when it comes to her future,” my father replies, “We will be seeking legal and medical advice before any further changes are made. We have already discussed this and it will be David attending for the foreseeable future, rather than his feminine alter ego.”

“I see,” Mr Edwards replies, “In that case I must ask you to let me know before turning up dressed as a girl, as this may cause disruption to classes. Do not attempt to enter any girls’ bathrooms or changing facilities. I note that you have already been temporarily excluded from physical education and this is duly being made permanent. As your safety cannot be guaranteed out of sight in the boys’ bathrooms, and I suspect you don’t feel comfortable using them anyway, you may use the unisex disabled toilets that are normally off-limits to able-bodied students. The one opposite reception is invisible from the office, so you won’t run into trouble if you use that. I will make all staff aware that you will be using these from now on.”

I nod at his instructions.

“If you receive any abuse please talk to a member of staff. A notice is being read out in all homerooms this morning reminding students that we run an equal opportunities policy in this school. I am making specific mention of discrimination and bullying based on sexual and gender preferences. However, I am not mentioning any names.”

He hands me a copy of the notice. While it doesn’t specifically name anyone, it is obvious that it is connected to yesterday’s incidents. While it doesn’t state that we have any transgendered students, it does stipulate that any intolerance against such people won’t be tolerated. It’s evident that such a statement wouldn’t be being made unless one of the students could be considered in that category.

It’s decided that no further action will be taken against me regarding my outburst yesterday, as it was out of character, and I was under stress from the earlier incident.

The meeting quickly ends. We all shake hands and depart our separate ways. Mr Spencer heads in the direction of his homeroom, my father leaves for work, and I accompany Mr Francis to our homeroom.

As we walk in the door, one of my fellow students, Kate Harris, slaps a pair of handcuffs onto my left wrist, binding us both together.