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It is several minutes before I realise that somebody is trying to get my attention. I feel an arm round my shoulder embracing me in a hug. I am vaguely aware that there is somebody sat on the floor beside me. Leaning into the person, I rest my head on their shoulder as they comfort me and bring me back from the abyss.

Gradually I regain my senses and wipe my eyes. Lifting my head and looking around me, I am astonished by who is present. The person I have been leaning on is Wendy. Surprised, I pull away in fright and scuttle backwards so that my back is against the benches lining the room.

“Don’t panic, I’m on your side,” Wendy says sympathetically. “Sorry I snapped at you this morning, you caught me off guard. I couldn’t work out why and how you seem to be a girl.”

Looking around the room, I can’t see anybody else present. “Are we alone?” I whisper.

She nods and I continue, “I seem to be a girl because I am a girl. I always have been. Yes, I’m male, but physical sex and gender isn’t always the same thing, and as you have already seen I have taken steps to hide my defective plumbing.”

“You had me confused on Monday, so I have been keeping an eye on you trying to figure out if I’m going crazy. I have been looking for you at school for over a week, and couldn’t ever find you. Then I saw the new you on Monday and I started to get curious,” she clarifies, “I have been watching you during break and lunch for the past few days, and although you obviously look and sound like you, your personality was almost the polar opposite to what I expected. As a boy, you’re introverted, sullen and withdrawn. However, as a girl you are outgoing, bubbly, happy and relaxed. I had convinced myself that Jasmine and Simon were two different people until I saw you last night.”

“The earrings?” I ask.

“Yes, the earrings were the giveaway. It seemed too big a coincidence. I tied a bit of cotton to your coat last night, and it was still there this morning. The label in the hat also helped,” confirms Wendy. “I’m sorry for the confrontation earlier, but I had to be sure that I wasn’t mistaken. It’s my fault your wig was crooked when you left and it’s obviously caused you trouble. I witnessed the prank in the canteen and realised that it may cause problems with the wig. I followed you here and listened from outside.”

“Julie recognised me from the start and isn’t happy. She has been poisoning her friends against me. I think the only reason she hasn’t openly accused me of being a boy is that she’s frightened that nobody will believe her. I’m rather convincing when naked, especially since I accidentally caused some bleeding in my first P.E. lesson so it looked like I was having a period,” I explain. “Josh is also aware of the truth. My other friends, Alison and Mary know I wear a wig as I went swimming with them, but they don’t know why. After Lisa’s accusations I reckon my charade is probably over.”

“No it’s not,” replies Wendy, “You really were out of it just now if you didn’t hear Garwood giving Lisa a bollocking. She doesn’t believe you’re a boy and I was able to explain the wig away. I’m friends with Mary’s big sister, Jill. Did you know Alison had to wear a wig for a while?”

I nod and Wendy continues, “I used the same explanation for you and Mrs Garwood believed it: she won’t say anything, not even to other teachers, your secret’s safe for a little longer. I assume most of the teachers are unaware of your status.”

“All of them are. I tricked Mr Henry into thinking the records were wrong by claiming a typo on my name. I’m officially attending as Simone Jasmine Whittaker, but prefer to use my middle name,” I say, “my parents don’t know either, you know how homophobic they are, they will literally kill me when they find out.”

“I did wonder about that,” Wendy states, “We better get you cleaned up, the bell will go in a few minutes and we need to get you presentable as a girl.”

She goes to the sink, and takes my wig from the water and wrings it out. It is obviously too wet to wear. She goes to her bag, which is sat on a nearby bench and pulls out what looks like a white towel, but on closer inspection appears to be some kind of headwear. It is like an elongated hat and is about two feet long. Wendy puts it on my head and adjusts the front so that it completely covers my hairline.

“This is used to tie up long hair while it dries,” Wendy states as she pulls it down at the rear. The towel extends down my back and she takes the excess material and twists it until it is tight. The twisted material is then wrapped round my head. Taking a safety pin, she fastens it to my head. It now looks like my long hair has been wrapped in a towel.

“Take those trousers off,” she instructs as she hands me a skirt, “you’re not the only one who cycles to school with a spare set of clothes.”

The skirt is a bit loose, but that is soon fixed with another safety pin. I’m tempted to ask if she has a spare bra, but I don’t bother, as even if she did it wouldn’t fit. She is larger than I am in both circumference and cup size.

I might look silly, but at least I don’t look masculine. I hug her in thanks.

“I have a netball in my locker that the wig can go over to dry,” Wendy declares, “If it’s still wet we can see about doing something at lunchtime. Now get to your next lesson before the bell rings. It won’t matter if I’m late as I have Mrs Garwood next period and she knows I’m helping you.”

Collecting my things, I hurriedly leave the changing rooms and slip past the crowd that is starting to gather for the P.E. lesson that is about to begin. The bell rings as I walk from the sports complex to the main building. I am a minute late by the time I have made it to the science lab for my next lesson. However, the lesson is being taught by Mr Court, and he knows what happened in the canteen.

I get a few looks as I apologise to my teacher as I enter.

“Why are you wearing a towel?” Mr Court asks.

“I had to wash the cola out of my hair and I don’t have time to dry it. I can’t have wet hair trailing down my back, so this is the best solution I could come up with at short notice,” I explain, “I will dry my hair properly at lunchtime.”

Mr Court shrugs and warns me to stay away from naked flames, not that we are actually using the Bunsen burners today. Instead, we are using coils of wire and nails to make electromagnets.

When the bell rings an hour later to signify the start of lunch, I am accompanied out of the room by Josh, Alison and Mary. The three of them surround me like bodyguards to stop any further mishaps. Lisa has been asked to stay behind at the end of class, no doubt in detention for the earlier incident. Julie is keeping her distance, trying not to get herself in trouble. I think Josh may have had some words with her during break. He keeps giving her warning stares.

I can’t carry on walking round school with a towel on my head. I look stupid. It isn’t as bad as walking round appearing as a boy, but I feel self-conscious all the same.

With my friends tagging along we all head towards Mrs Garwood’s classroom. I need to find Wendy and retrieve my wig.

When we reach our destination, Wendy is standing chatting with Mrs Garwood. I poke my head round the door into the otherwise empty room.

“Come in, Jasmine, are you feeling better?” Mrs Garwood beckons. I enter the room, my friends filing in behind me, making sure I’m all right.

“Hi. I’m sorry about earlier I lost it a bit. I’m a bit self-conscious when not wearing my wig. I don’t mind too much round my friends, but I don’t like how I look without it and I found Lisa’s teasing too much,” I say sadly.

“Bullying like that won’t be tolerated at this school,” Mrs Garwood replies. “If you have any further issues then come see me. I haven’t told anybody else about your problem, and after the lecture I gave Lisa, I hope she won’t either.”

“Thanks,” I reply.

After saying farewell, we all head for Wendy’s locker. We form a wall behind her so that nobody can see her slip my wig into a bag.

“It’s still damp, but we may be able to do something about that with a hairdryer,” she whispers.

We all head outside away from prying eyes and ears. Wendy hands me the bag and I reach in and feel the wig. The hair is mostly dry. The main dampness is in the lining and elasticated band round the edge.

“If you can sneak out of school, then you can come and have lunch at my house,” Josh states. “Nobody will be home.”

Students aren’t allowed out of school at lunch without a pass, signed by their parents. Permits are only given to year nine and ten students who have a good reason. Josh has one so that he can go home for lunch. The rules are more relaxed for year elevens as a privilege of being in the final year of school. As long as their parents agree, they can have a pass without needing a reason. A lot of the senior year go and sit in the local park or woodland during the lunch break.

“Here, use this,” Wendy states, handing me a temporary one day pass signed by Mrs Garwood. “We figured you may need leave to sort out your problem, so Mrs Garwood made out a temporary pass for you.”

“Thanks,” I reply.

Wendy is in year eleven and has a lunch pass. Therefore, after saying goodbye to Mary and Alison we head for the gates. Josh, Wendy and I show our passes to the teacher on duty and start walking in the direction of Josh’s home.

“I hope you don’t mind me tagging along, but I think we need to talk, and from what you said earlier I assume we three can talk openly,” Wendy states.

“Josh knows everything,” I state in reply. “So yes, we can talk freely.”

I properly introduce Josh and Wendy to each other. We stop at the fish and chip shop on our way and Wendy goes in and buys three battered sausages and a large portion of chips. Wendy buys school dinners normally, and Josh makes himself sandwiches at home, but is quite willing to have chips instead. I have some sandwiches, which I will now save for an after-school snack.

We arrive at Josh’s house and consume our meal, thanking Wendy for buying us lunch. After checking the label, we realise that we can’t use a hair or tumble dryer without risking damage to the wig, so we instead put it over a desk fan and blow cold air through it until it’s time to head back to school.

I confess my antics to Wendy, explaining my feelings on my gender identity. I describe how I was suffering from depression and despair at the thought of male puberty. In turn, Wendy assures us that she won’t reveal my secrets and that she doesn’t share the same bigoted views that our parents have. I have known Wendy for years, and although we were never close, I am confident that I can trust her.

I am able to wash and tumble dry my original clothes and so can change back into my own skirt for the afternoon. Donning the now almost dry wig, we make our way back to school. We arrive shortly before afternoon registration. The final two lessons of the day go without incident.

At the end of the day, I cycle home with Wendy. She usually takes a slightly different route to me. We live close to each other, but I normally make sure that nobody else is around while I cycle home, deliberately avoiding any company in case I am spotted.

We split up at a junction half a mile from my farm in order to go our separate ways. Wendy heads straight on down the main road while I take a left turn to take me past the woodland with my hideout. I have told Wendy I have a hideout, but not its location. That is on a need to know basis, and she doesn’t need to know at the moment.

I place the wig on its polystyrene head and change into my boy clothes before cycling the rest of the way home. I change into jeans and set to helping with the chores before dinner. I then spend the evening doing homework and watching TV.

The weather Thursday morning is dry but windy. It is what’s known locally as a lazy wind, it goes through you instead of round you. Not needing to use the changing rooms before class means that I can glue my wig on properly at the bunker, instead of having to try to find a way to do it at school. I have a feeling Lisa and Julie may try to expose me again, so this time I make sure the wig is well and truly bonded to my head.

I arrive in registration just as the final bell rings. The morning progresses without incident. At break time Josh, Alison and Mary keep me company and act once again as bodyguards, blocking anybody else from getting near me. We all deliberately stay clear of Julie, Lisa, and friends until we have to line up for P.E.

Josh has gone to line up with the boys and I am stood with Alison and Mary when Julie sneaks up behind us. I know that she is there and suspect what she is about to do, but I’m prepared.

Julie grabs my hair and gives a quick sharp tug. The glue holds and instead of the wig coming off my head is pulled backwards. I scream and deliberately fall over, collecting Julie as I do so. We land on the ground, with me on top of her.

“You bitch, that hurt,” I say getting up rubbing the back of my head.

Mr Morris chooses that moment to emerge from the building.

“Julie Phillips, what do you think you are doing?” Mr Morris asks, “How would you like to be dangled by your hair? Now apologise or you can spend the lesson doing laps.”

Julie offers me an apology, which I accept. I then add, “And if anybody else thinks this is a wig then don’t. It’s my own and it’s attached to my head.”

I’m being economical with the truth again. I do own the wig and it is firmly glued to my head, but I’m heavily implying it’s real, not synthetic.

With half of year nine witnessing the hair pulling I think I have ended the rumours of wig wearing.

We head into the changing rooms and Mrs Hargreaves gives Julie another telling off while we all change. She then goes on to say that bullying won’t be tolerated. All the usual spiel that we’ve heard a thousand times.

As its dry today, we go outside and start to learn how to play hockey. We are focused on ball control, passing and dribbling. We complete various practice exercises before we have a short game near the end of the lesson.

We all troop back to the changing rooms and I again make sure to be one of the first girls to shower. I notice Julie once more keeps herself covered and waits until I have left the shower before dropping her towel and entering. Lisa doesn’t seem to be as prudish and walks past me naked while I’m in the showers.

During Lunch, Alison, Mary and I sit in the atrium between the two main buildings of the school and eat our sandwiches. The school is all on one level and is built in an H shape. A Perspex roof has been added filling the gap between two parts of the building to give an all-weather seating area that has a number of picnic benches that can be used.

Anybody who brings his or her own lunch tends to eat here rather than taking up space in the canteen. In addition, each year is called in turn to the canteen in a rota system so that the queue isn’t too long at any point. It also means that on different weeks, you get to be earlier or later in the cycle and it supposedly evens out on fairness if the canteen runs out of the more favourite dishes.

Using the atrium means that you can eat when you want and you don’t have to wait to be called.

We are just finishing our lunch when Mary’s sister, Jill, comes up to us. Wendy is with her and stands to one side while the sisters talk.

“Mary, Mum says yes to the sleepover,” Jill states.

“Her yoga club outing got cancelled then,” Mary replies.

“Nope, she’s still going to be out, but I convinced her that I’m responsible enough to keep an eye on you for the evening,” Jill answers, “Wendy here will be keeping me company, and she is very good at spanking.”

There is an evil glint in Jill’s eyes as she says that, and Wendy is trying to hide a blush. I wonder exactly what those two have been up to, if Wendy were a lesbian or bi, then that would possibly explain why she is at ease with me, and not taking the bigoted view of her parents.

“I know this is short notice, but would you two like to come over to my house tomorrow night after swimming for a sleepover?” Mary asks Alison and me.

“I’m up for it, I doubt my mum will object,” Alison replies. I already know they are best friends and have regular sleepovers so there is probably a standing arrangement.

I would love to go to the sleepover, but there is no way my parents would let their son spend the night with two girls. I got away with it at home with Emily, but she was family and her father smoothed things over for us.

At the very least, my parents would want to talk to Mary’s parents, and that leads to a whole can of worms. I can’t see any way of pulling this off. I could potentially pretend to be spending the night with other boys, but I would still have the problem of getting permission and my parents would still want to speak to with whomever I’m staying.

“I would like to, but I can’t,” I reply sadly.

“If you think your parents won’t let you, then leave that with me. I think I can help you persuade them,” Wendy states, giving me a wink. “You’re going to be with me after all and I’m a trustworthy person.”

Jill sniggers and Wendy swats her. “Seriously, we’ll work on it tonight and let you know tomorrow,” Wendy adds.

I shrug my shoulders and say, “Put me down as a yes, pending parental approval.”

Alison then queries what Mary and Jill are planning. Their mother is out for the evening and we will have the house to ourselves for most of the night. They are planning on keeping things informal and simply getting a takeout and watching some movies. We are instructed to bring a sleeping bag and pillow.

The discussion then digresses into a debate on which movies are best.

Afternoon lessons proceed without incident, and at the end of the day, I meet back up with Wendy for the cycle home.

“We have some serious planning to do, and not a lot of time to pull it off,” Wendy states as we ride along. We have now split from the other students leaving the school and are now on our own cycling side by side down a back lane. “We will need to do some phoning around. I suggest we stop at the barn up ahead; we can talk without being seen. I have my mobile with me.”

“I can’t be too late back, or my parents will blow a fuse,” I reply. “How good is the signal on your phone?”

“I have an external booster aerial, so I can get a signal nearly anywhere round here, unlike most people,” she replies. Mobile phone coverage in this area is poor. I don’t bother owning a mobile as the farm and most of our fields struggle to register a signal.

“Follow me,” I say as I put on a spurt of speed, “we can talk while I get changed back into boy mode.”

Being on a racing bike has its advantages. Wendy also has a road bike, and struggles to keep up with me as we race along the country lanes. I slow down and signal well in advance so that we don’t overshoot the track to the woods. I take it slowly on the track as it’s bumpy and hitting a rock could throw you off a bike.

I lead Wendy into the woodland and park my bike next to a tree. We are on a flat bit of ground near the slope into the pit.

“How is the signal strength here?” I ask.

“Low, but enough so that it shouldn’t drop out,” Wendy replies looking at the signal bars on the display.

“Good, you can wait here and phone whoever while I change clothes behind those bushes. My other clothes are hidden in a waterproof storage box hidden in the foliage,” I say pointing to some wild blackberry plants. “Who are you phoning and what are you going to say?”

“Jasmine, we need to tell your mother that you have been invited over to a boy’s house, and give her a number in case she wants to call,” Wendy states, “I was thinking of saying that you are staying over at Greg Bishop’s. I know his sister, and she would be willing to cover for us for a small fee. She also sounds just like her mother, who I happen to know is away at a conference this week. She won’t know the details, just that you need an excuse.”

I agree to the idea, it’s worth a try. I know Greg, but not very well. If we say that I’m going with my best friend Josh then it won’t look as suspicious.

I disappear behind the blackberry bushes and lift the camouflaged manhole cover under the edge of the plants. We are standing directly over the bunker, and I carefully and quietly climb down the ladder into my hideout, without letting on that the bunker is here. As far as Wendy knows, I am simply hiding my modesty and I have some clothes hidden in a box. I’m just not letting on how large the ‘box’ is.

I swiftly put my wig away on its stand and change into my boy clothing. By the time I have returned to where Wendy is waiting, she is just saying goodbye to her friend.

“It’s all set up. The details are here,” Wendy says handing me a piece of paper, “I have given her the farm phone number and she has caller display so she can see who is ringing. If your parents want to speak with someone then they can phone her and she will pretend to be her mother. Hopefully they will let you go without question, after all you are a boy to them, and parents tend to worry less about boys.”

I don’t disagree, as she is probably right. However, this is the first time I have asked to stay at a friend’s house, so I don’t know what the outcome might be.

We start to cycle out of the woodland before I realise I’m being a twit and that I’m on the wrong bike. I say goodbye to Wendy as she pedals off down the track to the main road and I pretend to head to the farm. After Wendy is out of sight, I double back and change the bikes over.

I then pedal as fast as I can over the countryside to reach the farm before my parents start to wonder where I am. I actually pass them in a field tending to some goats before I reach the farmyard. I wave as I cycle past.

I put my bike in the barn and head up to my bedroom to change out of my pretend school uniform. I descend the stairs as my parents come in from the yard.

“I have been asked to go swimming again tomorrow,” I state as my mother puts the kettle on.

“Fine, you’ll be late home tomorrow then?” She asks.

“Well actually Greg has invited me to stay the night. He’s asking a few of us over to watch some movies. I have provisionally said yes, but said I need to check with you first,” I say hopefully.

“Will you be back for cleaning duty tomorrow?” my father enquires.

“Sure, no problem,” I reply, “I don’t know the exact time I’ll get back, but I will make sure it’s in plenty of time. When are we expecting the first arrival?”

“Three,” my father states, “Would these movies be of the blue variety?”

“I doubt it, more likely the action kind,” I reply. “Although I think he did once boast about owning a copy of ‘Debby Does Dallas’.”

My father laughs before saying, “I don’t have any objections, as long as your chores and homework get done on time.”

My father glances over at my mother. My mother shrugs her shoulders and leaves the decision to him.

I am surprised once again how easy things are going. I was worried they may object or want to check out whom I was staying with, but they seem happy with my explanation.

After tea, I sit down and spend the evening finishing off all my homework so that I don’t have to worry about it over the weekend. Once complete, I watch TV for an hour before heading to bed.

Friday morning after breakfast, I pack my bag ready for staying the night. I get my large green army rucksack out. In the bottom, I put my pyjamas, Dressing gown, slippers and toiletries. The pyjamas are a new pair that I bought myself out of my birthday money. I have tried them on, but have never dared wear them overnight in case my parents see them. They are a silk cami set consisting of a pair of panties and a camisole with thin straps. They are ivory in colour with black lace round the edges. They are very sexy and indulgently comfortable.

My dressing gown is actually a ladies’ one. We were originally shopping for a men’s gown, but they were too large for me and I didn’t like the ones in the children’s department. I then spotted a very nice gown on a stand nearby, so went to investigate. Although designed for a woman, it is reasonably unisex. My mother actually suggested looking at the women’s section, as they stock smaller sizes and we might find something in that isn’t too feminine.

I of course was perfectly happy with this idea. I pointed out that not many people would see it anyway, and as long as it was comfortable, I didn’t care what it looked like. I ended up buying an exceedingly fluffy white towelling hooded gown. The one I really liked was covered in flowers, but I thought that was going to be pushing things a bit far. However, they had the same cut in an almost plain white design so that is what I opted for. The only distinguishing feature that sets it as feminine, except for the colour, is a small flower motif on the left breast.

My father and brother did give me some ribbing when we got home with it, but they had to admit the material felt wonderfully soft and sensuous.

My slippers are navy blue moccasins, which aren’t girly in any way, but I think I can get away with that.

On top of them, I add my pink swimming costume and cap, wrapped in a bath towel. I add second towel in case I need one, and then place my normal school bag on the top. I then add my rolled up sleeping bag to the top and fasten it closed. Lifting the bag onto my back, it is almost as big as my torso.

I head downstairs and place it near the door while I have breakfast. I then proceed to help my parents milk the goats before returning inside for a quick shower and a change of clothes. Dressed in my male school uniform I pull the rucksack on my back and head out down the tracks on my mountain bike.

Reaching the bunker, I change into my female school uniform, fix my wig and makeup, and switch to my other bike. I add two sets of clothes to the rucksack. The first is what I intend to wear from the swimming pool and Saturday morning, a red miniskirt that comes halfway down to my knees, a v-neck yellow blouse with lacy collar, and a red fleece. I also add a plain white shirt and a pair of jeans in case I don’t have time to call back at the bunker.

When I get to school, I remove my normal school bag from the rucksack and place the rest of my belongings into my locker before heading to registration and lessons. The first thing I do is tell Mary that I have permission to stay over, something with which she seems pleased.

Lessons run smoothly. The teasing over me supposedly wearing a wig seems to have died down after yesterday. Lisa and Julie are in detention at break and Lunch due to the stunts they pulled over the past few days, so I get a respite from their aggravation.

At the end of the school day, we meet up at the bike sheds with Wendy and Jill. They are going to come swimming with us this week. Jill isn’t a fan of swimming, so doesn’t very often accompany her sister, but has decided to join us today. I am glad to have Wendy along this time considering the trouble I had last week with Bart and friends. I had filled her in on my activities round Josh’s on Wednesday so she knows of the problems I had last Friday.

We arrive and head to the changing rooms. I once again make use of a toilet cubicle to change from wig to swimming cap before emerging and changing with the others into my swimming costume. I notice Wendy is hesitating slightly and deliberately turns her back on me while she changes. Seeing that she is uncomfortable with me, I deliberately face the other way and ignore her.

After locking up our possessions, we head out to the pools. We descend on the main pool and accustom ourselves with the water. The wave machine starts up and we float on our backs as we bob up and down in the swell.

After some relaxation, we split up. Jill, Alison and Mary go to swim some laps in the dedicated lanes set aside in one of the other pools. Wendy and I watch for a few minutes. I take this opportunity to speak to Wendy alone.

“I noticed you seem slightly uncomfortable in the changing room,” I state. “If you don’t want me to see you naked, I understand. I will try and avoid looking at you.”

“I’m sorry,” replies Wendy, “I’m trying to accept you, but after knowing you for years it seems odd. Logically it shouldn’t make any difference, but even so, it feels strange. I appreciate your offer, but for your own safety, I think it’s best if we don’t act oddly around each other. Therefore, don’t worry about it. Being seen is my problem, not yours.”

“Thanks,” I say and give her a quick hug.

“What do we have here?” Bart’s voice comes from our right, “A carpet-munching muff diver and cocksucking sissy, Simon.”

I swear under my breath and stand to face him. He has two of his mates with him. Wendy gets up and stands behind me.

“Piss off, wanker,” Wendy intones, “unless you want to lose those trunks. Unlike our swimsuits, those are easy to come off. Then we can all laugh at how small you are. Don’t deny it, I know your babysitter.”

This just seems to piss Bart off. “Does your daddy know about you? I heard he doesn’t like faggots. I haven’t seen Mike about recently.”

“See these?” I say pointing at my earrings, “Not normal swimwear, but I can’t take them out as I’ve only just had my ears pierced. Not something I can hide from my parents is it?”

“Perhaps I should have a word with the staff, or possibly the police. I’m sure they will be interested in a pervert in the changing rooms,” Bart replies.

“You tried that last week and it didn’t get you anywhere. The staff were quite happy to accept me as female. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have any bulge in this suit. No balls,” I state pointing at my crotch, “I chopped them off, boiled them, covered them with breadcrumbs, fried them, and ate them with some stewed peppers and onions. Delicious.”

I lick my lips seductively and then while staring at the boy’s crotches I add, “You know testicles are best served once they have just reached full maturity. Yours are ripe for harvesting, and I’m very good at it. If you behave I can do it without much blood loss.”

“You’re making it up,” Steven, one of Bart’s friends, states.

I smile and walk up to him, “Care for a feel, go ahead and slip your hand in my swimsuit. Ever felt a cunt? Mine is artificial, but it’s the closest you are going to get.”

I walk right up to him and press my body against his.

“I have a better idea,” he says as he takes a step backwards and knees me in the gonads.

What should be a delicate area for a boy is no longer as vulnerable with most of my sensitive organs removed. The bottom of my suit is slightly padded so that the folds of skin don’t show through and although I feel the impact, it isn’t painful. Instead of rolling around on the floor in pain I don’t even wince, instead I laugh at his attempt and ask if I should repeat the demo on him.

“The staff have already warned you once, do you want to be banned?” I ask. “I have had enough of your crap. I have been through emotional and physical hell to get this far in my transition. When you have stared death in the face, and spat in its eyes, idle threats don’t mean anything. You are all mouth. You try anything and you risk getting banned, arrested or worse.”

I spin round and walk away, back towards the main pool. Wendy hesitates for a second, backing away from the boys before turning and following me. I deliberately don’t look back at them, but I don’t need to as I can see our reflection in a metal pole holding up one of the water slides.

We return to swimming. Instead of being scared, I am on an adrenaline high and work the energy off by paddling a few short fast laps in one of the branches of the T-shaped pool.

“I hope those boys don’t cause any trouble,” Wendy states as we lie in the shallow pool, enjoying the warmth of the water while we take a rest.

“I don’t care if they do. I’m a realist. I knew from the outset that I was putting myself into a position whereby I could become a target for physical violence. I accept that risk and am ready to fight if required,” I state. “I am in peak physical fitness. I was seventh in the beep test in P.E. Only two other girls and four boys beat me. Combine that score with the other half of the year group and I come out in the top fifteen fittest students. I’m also strong, manual labour on the farm has seen to that. I may not look muscular, but I have core muscle strength. I am the undefeated arm wrestling champ of last year.”

“You may be okay in a one to one, or even to fend off a couple of opponents, but what if they gang up on you?” Wendy asks. “Aren’t you afraid of what they may do to you?”

“If attacked by a gang I do as much damage as I can before they take me down. Sure, I’m scared. My whole life is a complete mess held together by lies. I’m surprised I’ve managed to attend school for a whole fortnight without being busted yet,” I reply. “So far I’ve been lucky in that everybody who knows my secret has kept reasonably quiet. The only one causing trouble is Julie, and she hasn’t openly attacked me or complained to the school. If I were to start worrying about what could happen to me I would be a wreck. The only thing stopping me having a nervous breakdown is my stubbornness to succeed and my philosophy of living for today because next week I’m dead.”

The others join us in the shallow pool, tired after swimming laps. We turn to topics that are more casual now that we are no longer alone. After relaxing and floating around, we head back to the main pool as they start the wave machine up again. We head in for a swim and finish off by lying on the fake beach slope with the waves breaking over us.

Looking at one of the large digital clocks dotted round the edge of the room we see that we have been swimming for nearly two hours. Deciding we have all had enough, we head back to the changing rooms.

Retrieving our bags from our lockers, we line up on one of the benches and remove our swimming costumes. I am in the middle of the line and deliberately stand with my back towards Wendy so that she has extra privacy. Having rung out the swimsuit I take my swimming cap off and put the swimsuit inside. I then place them both into a plastic carrier bag so that they can go into my rucksack without getting anything wet.

We head into the showers, again Wendy stays behind me and I keep my gaze away from her where possible. I stand under the warm shower and let the water rinse off the chlorine from the pool.

“I see why you normally wear the wig,” Jill says to me softly, “Although you don’t seem embarrassed about your hair at the moment.”

I giggle and reply, “Nobody is going to mistake me for being a boy while I’m naked. It’s only with clothes on do I start to get looks to say, what are you doing in here?”

I step out of the shower and dry myself off. The first thing I do is to wrap my scarf around my head to hide my lack of hair. I then proceed to put my underwear on followed by the miniskirt, blouse and fleece. So that my exposed legs don’t become chilled, I slip on a pair of clear tights and a finish off with a pair of white tennis shoes. They might not match the outfit, but I like to opt for practicality and comfort over fashion. Riding a bike in heels is not something I would like to try.

The only other girl in a skirt is Mary. All the others are in jeans. The other girls have put their damp hair up in ponytails to keep their backs dry. Once we are all ready, we walk out of the changing rooms and head for the exit.

As we leave the building, I immediately see that we have a potential problem. Hanging round the bike racks are Bart, Steven, Matt and David. I may be paranoid, but I get the impression they are waiting in ambush for Wendy and I.

They obviously haven’t countered on us being with other friends. Instead of four on two, it is actually five on four. However, if they reveal my secret then it could easily become four on two again, or worse, seven on two if my friends turn against me.

The boys form a line blocking our path and we come to a halt.

“Oh look, it’s the cultural ambassadors from Lesbos. Got quite a following, Simon, do they know what you are?” David sneers at me.

“That’s Simone to you, Daisy,” I say, putting emphasis on the closest girls’ name I can think of for David. “Step out of the way and let us pass.”

“What you going to do about it, call the police?” Steven replies sarcastically.

“No need, this whole car park is monitored by CCTV footage, or haven’t you noticed the signs on the wall and cameras pointing at us from the top of the building and the tall pole over near the roundabout,” I keep my eyes firmly fixed on the boys and I can see their worried glances as they scan the area. “I doubt they are wired for sound, and I won’t be throwing the first punch. A large group of youths is bound to attract the operator’s attention, assuming someone is watching. Now you may be lucky and be able to hit me without being seen, so you’ve got to ask yourself one question: Do I feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?”

“Come on; let’s leave this faggot to flirt with his friends,” Bart sneers, turning to walk away, followed by the other lads.

We watch them walk off. I have successfully faced one confrontation, but the next may not be as easy. They have revealed my secret to my new friends.

“What was that all about?” Mary asks.

Turning to face the other girls, I decide I best face this now in a place where I’m less likely to be beaten up. I just hope that I’m right about being watched.

“He thinks I’m gay. I have always been tomboyish and I’m therefore regarded as a butch dyke, hence his use of ‘Simon’ and ‘his’. It’s doesn’t help that he’s seen me without my wig, which makes me look even more boyish than normal,” I explain, hoping that I am not digging myself into a bigger hole.

“Does he have any reason to think you’re interested in girls?” Jill asks, “Not that it would make any difference to me if you did.”

“The only way to truly know if you like something or not is to try it. In order to establish my sexuality I have experimented with another girl,” I reply insinuating I was caught by Bart. “I can categorically state for the record that I’m not interested in girls. I tried it, and although I didn’t find it repulsive, it didn’t do anything for me.”

We unlock our bikes and start riding away from the holiday centre. The other girls seem content to leave my explanation alone, and don’t query it further as we travel to Mary and Jill’s house.