“As this is the final day of the school year,” Mrs. Hall announces, “you have a choice of whatever sport you want to do for the next hour- athletics, netball, tennis or gymnastics.” I grin as I glance sideway at Nicole, Suriya and Harriet- they’ve clearly had the same idea as me.

“Two years down, three to go,” Nicole giggles as she, Suriya and I pull on our stretchy purple leotards, whilst Harriet changes into her shorts & t-shirt.

“Maybe next year, you’ll actually join the gymnastics club and get yourself one of these,” Suriya says to Harriet whilst snapping the stretchy fabric of her leotard.

“Heh, not really my thing,” Harriet giggles. “And before you say that I do ballet, need I remind you that they’re completely different? Besides, my bum looks stupid in a leotard…”

“There ARE things you can do about that,” Nicole says with a knowing smile.

“As long as you do them sensibly,” I say, prompting an awkward silence. It’s been almost three months since my ‘incident’, when I collapsed during my ballet lesson, but it’s clear that my friends are still traumatised by the experience.

A few days after my hospitalisation, my diagnosis of bulimia nervosa was confirmed- and you can’t begin to understand the level of shame with which that filled me. Ever since I started my transition, I’ve felt like I’ve gone around with a sign above my head that read ‘abnormal’. Thanks to my friends and my family, that sign has, over the months, shrunk and shrunk to the point where it’s virtually invisible. After I got out of hospital, the ‘sign’ returned, bigger than ever.

My family, of course, was as supportive as they could possibly be. Mum ensured that I was comfortable during my recovery (I was off school the whole week following my stay in hospital), and grandma stopped by almost every day to ensure that I was happy and, more importantly, well-fed. At least one of my friends dropped by every night after school to keep me company, and I even had a surprise visit from Nikki Thomas, who brought along two friends in the shape of Jamie-Lee Burke- probably the most famous transgendered woman in the UK- and Steph Abbott, a member of the new girl band ‘Out of Heaven’, who I hadn’t heard of at the time but who have quickly become one of my (and my friends’) favourite bands. I literally could not have been more loved… And yet the stigma retained. I will never ‘not have had’ an eating disorder, no matter how ‘normal’ my eating patterns get.

…And they’re STILL not back to normal. After I flushed away my laxatives- which was the easy party, especially following the revelation that they don’t actually aid weight loss- I would get regular, extra-painful stomach cramps. Whilst I returned to school quickly enough, it would take almost a month for my digestive ‘rhythm’ to return to normal, during which I didn’t attend ballet class, or the school’s gymnastics or dance clubs. I didn’t even attend PE lessons, I was in so much discomfort most days, which meant, of course, that my weight slowly started to increase, further deepening my depression. Almost three months after my hospital trip, I’m still unable to fully finish a meal, no matter how hard my family tries to force the food down me.

The one positive school thing that I was able to hold on to, however, was my acting. I resumed drama club the week I returned to school, and as I only missed one rehearsal and one drama club, I was able to keep my place in the play. I had tried handing off the place to Harriet- my understudy- but she’d insisted that I take the place in the play. Our last performance was last week and the play went down a storm. My own performance was highly praised- the teachers and parents watching commented on how much fun I seemed to be having, and they were right- especially as I got to wear the gorgeous period costume, including the voluminous poodle skirt and extra-high heels.

I especially needed the high heeled shoes as my height still hasn’t changed a great deal. I am noticeably taller than I was on my twelfth birthday- the testosterone blockers don’t have THAT great an effect- but I’m still under five feet tall, whereas virtually all of my friends have passed that ‘milestone’. Nicole in particular is almost 5’ 4” already, having had a massive growth spurt during this school year. Dr Williamson still won’t prescribe me oestrogen, but she is happy with my progress- and more importantly, so am I.

Whilst I’ve been constantly supported by my family and friends throughout the school year, there is one person who has been conspicuous by his absence- and that’s Phil. The first time I saw him after leaving hospital was at the play rehearsal on the Monday I returned to school, and whilst I was pleased to see him, a very large part of me was angry at him for staying away. He later explained that he wasn’t comfortable around sick people- his brother had been in hospital a lot when he was younger, or something- but that just made me feel worse, that he saw me more as ‘a sick person’ rather than his girlfriend. Of course, we (literally) kissed and made-up later, but a part of me is still uneasy regarding our relationship- especially as Phil’s had his growth spurt and is now almost eight inches taller than me. It’s also clear that whilst he very much enjoys kissing me, he obviously wants ‘more’… And that’s not something I’m prepared to give at this point in time, especially as I’m still uncomfortable with virtually all kinds of physical contact.

“That was so cool!” Nicole gushes as she, Harriet, Suriya and I head back down from the gym to the toilet block that has become our own private changing room. The teachers are still unhappy that my friends change in here with me, but they have at least acknowledged that it’s not doing any harm, and my friends’ parents have all provided written consent to the school to allow them to keep changing with me.

“Can’t believe that’ll be our last gymnastics lesson for two months,” Suriya says as she strips out of her purple leotard whilst I pull my skirt and blouse back on top of my leotard. None of us are wearing tights today as it’s too hot, but we all pull on tiny white socks before putting on our flats.

“You three are so amazing at gymnastics,” Harriet enthuses. “It’s no wonder you’ve all been selected for the school team next year.” I smile as I’m reminded of this fact- my ‘illness’ had put my hear-earned place in next year’s team in jeopardy, but I worked hard in the remaining few club meetings of the year and just about scraped back into the team- on the understanding that if I miss any more club meetings, I’ll be immediately ejected from the team.

Whilst I worked my way back onto the gymnastics team, I wasn’t so lucky with dance club, as I’m reminded when Nicole & Suriya pull on their baby blue club leotards and tight black shorts. The club was rehearsing for a routine to be performed at the final school assembly this afternoon. I missed four rehearsals in a row, therefore I was unceremoniously ejected from the troupe. It’s some consolation to know that I wasn’t the only one- one of the year 10 girls was ejected after breaking her ankle- but my ‘ejection’ was entirely my own fault… And was completely avoidable if only I’d been a little more sensible.

Nonetheless, I have a smile on my face as I sit down at our normal lunch table, a smile that only widens as I feel the rough wooden texture of the bench brush against the backs of my bare, smooth legs.

“Soooo,” Nicole says with a smile, turning to the only member of our group. “How does it feel? One year down, four to go…”

“It feels good!” Ashley says with a smile. “It’ll be good coming back next year knowing I’m not the youngest in the school any more…”

“Your birthday was May,” Suriya laughs, linking her fingers with Ashley’s. “You’re hardly the youngest in your year…”

“Unless you want us to adopt ANOTHER year 7 next year for you to ‘lord over’!” Priya giggles.

“’Lord Ashley Moore’,” Harriet chuckles. “I like it, it has a nice ring to it!”

“’Lady Ashley Moore’ is better, though,” Suriya says just quiet enough for no one outside our table to hear.

“Definitely,” Ashley sighs happily.

“Enjoy being the youngest whilst it lasts,” Priya laughs. “Next year I’m starting my GCSEs… You’ll all be choosing your subjects before too long!”

“God,” Megan sighs. “I’ve no idea what I want to do…”

“I know exactly what I’ll be doing,” Nicole says confidently. “Dance, drama, PE, English literature, Spanish, French.”

“Same here,” I say. “All six of those.”

“And here!” Suriya giggles.

“What are you doing next year?” Harriet asks the oldest girl of our group.

“Economics,” Priya replies. “Double maths...”

“Our father’s got it into his head that Priya’s going to be an accountant when she’s older,” Suriya says.

“And…” Harriet says. “What do YOU want, Priya?”

“Being an accountant would be okay,” Priya shrugs. “I’m good at maths, it’d be easy work, good money…”

“But what do you. Want. To do?” Harriet persists, making the older girl sigh.

“…I don’t know,” Priya moans. “I mean, I’m only fourteen, for god’s sake, I- I just want to have some fun…”

“’Girls just wanna have fun’…” Nicole, Suriya and I all sing simultaneously, making Priya snort loudly with laughter. After lunch, the seven of us head together to the vast sports hall for the assembly. It’s the only opportunity we have all year to walk to ‘class’ together, even if we do split off from each other shortly afterwards as Nicole and Suriya go to get changed for their routine, whilst Priya and Ashley go and sit with their own year groups. After the assembly- and the routine, which of course goes flawlessly- the seven of us meet up in the car park for the final time until September. Despite the disapproving stares of our teachers, the seven of us share a mercifully brief group hug before going our separate ways. Even though we’ll be seeing each other loads over the holidays (at ballet tomorrow night at the very latest) it’s still an emotional moment watching all my friends get into their parents’ respective cars, especially Megan- we normally hang out on Tuesday nights to help each other with homework, but with there not being any more school, there’s obviously no homework that needs doing.

“Missing them already?” Mum asks as I let out a long sigh upon climbing into her car.

“Yeah,” I sigh.

“Just wait until you get to the end of Year 11,” mum laughs. “I’ll make sure to stock up on Kleenex!”

“God,” I laugh. “I don’t even want to THINK that far ahead… Just want to get home and relax.”

“You’ve more than earned it after this year you’ve had,” mum says softly. “Which is why I’ve got a bit of a surprise waiting for you at home…” My eyebrows raise at this news, but despite my pleading, mum won’t divulge the nature of the surprise, so as I walk through my front door, I’m literally shaking with excitement. I step into the living room, expecting to see a present on the sofa, but what I instead see is very different. There, sat on the sofa in his military fatigues, is my brother Ricky. I briefly gasp with shock as he silently stares at me, before running toward him and wrapping him in as tight a hug as my tiny arms can manage.

“Careful!” Ricky laughs, gently returning my hug. “Can you try hugging me and not strangling me, please?”

“Sorry,” I giggle girlishly, releasing Ricky before sitting down next to him. “What are you doing back?”

“I’m on leave,” Ricky laughs. “It’s your summer holiday, this is when I usually take leave. It ain’t easy getting leave over summer either, especially as I don’t have any kids of my own…”

“Well it IS good to see you,” I chuckle.

“Good god, miracles will never cease!” Mum laughs. “Laura actually pleased to see her big brother!”

“After last summer…” I say, before taking a deep breath. “Yeah, you’ve pretty much got a ‘lifetime pass’ for what you did.”

“Good,” Ricky says, sitting forward. “I intend to exploit that ‘lifetime pass’ as much as I can these next few days.”

“Just don’t exploit it TOO much,” mum cautions. “What do you want for dinner tonight?”

“I thought I’d take us all out somewhere tonight,” Ricky says. “Maybe for an Indian or a Chinese. My treat.”

“You don’t need to do that,” mum says. “Besides, you’ve only just got here, take some time to make yourself comfortable, get settled in.” You especially don’t need to do it considering how fatty the food is from all the local takeaways, I think to myself.

“I’ve been settled in this house for the last ten years,” Ricky laughs. “Seriously, let me do something, at least order a takeaway in?”

“Well, okay,” mum concedes. Dammit! I think to myself. “Shall we eat around 6?”

“Sounds good,” Ricky says, before turning his attention to me. “You gonna spend the whole evening in your uniform, or are you thinking of changing at some point?”

“Gi- give me a break, I only just got home,” I moan.

“Yep,” Ricky says. “That’s usually the time you get changed, isn’t it?” I take a deep breath, immediately recognising Ricky’s line of questioning as one of the ‘tactics’ he’s always used in the past to get a rise out of me. In a way it’s comforting to know he’s as comfortable teasing me as his sister as he was teasing me as his brother, especially as in addition to being a better gender, I’m now older and just a little bit wiser to his little tricks.

“Okay,” I say, throwing my hands up in defeat. “I’ll go and change.”

“What, and just leave me alone here on the sofa?” Ricky asks, making me internally scream with frustration. In previous years, that scream would have been very much external, and would only have made Ricky laugh like an idiot. The more I screamed and cried, the more Ricky laughed. Well that’s not going to happen today!

“Yes, yes I am going to ‘just leave you alone on the sofa’,” I say with a sweet smile as I head up to my bedroom where I slip off my skirt, blouse and leotard and put them in the washing basket, chuckling yet again at how it’ll be six weeks before I wear them again. After pulling on a comfortable short-sleeved pink dress, I pause before heading downstairs, and spend a few minutes painting my fingernails a soft pink colour. After my nails have dried, I put on a light layer of pink lipstick, followed by a thick layer of mascara, before exchanging my gold studs for a pair of dangly earrings that complement my dress and make-up. Finally, I slip on a handful of my favourite bracelets and brush out my hair, giggling at the clattering sound made by the inexpensive plastic jewellery, before heading downstairs a full twenty minutes after ‘just leaving Ricky alone on the sofa’.

“Good job we’re not going out tonight,” Ricky sighs as I sit down at the opposite end of the sofa. “You’ve have spent the whole time we were eating just getting ready…” I giggle girlishly as Ricky starts ordering our dinner on his smartphone. About an hour later, several foil containers full of piping-hot oriental food arrive at our door, and mum, Ricky and I all tuck in. The one good thing about a takeaway spread like this is that there’s no pressure on me to finish my food, though I make sure to eat until I feel full, which obviously doesn’t take that long.

“Come on,” Ricky urges as I lay my chopsticks back down on my plate. “I paid good money for this, don’t let it go to waste!”

“I’m full,” I complain.

“You’ve hardly touched anything,” Ricky laughs.

“Ricky,” mum says, the tone of her voice making it clear that she was issuing a warning.

“What?” Ricky protests. “I know Laura’s had her problems the last few months, but she’s not going to get over them by shying away from them.” Mum sighs, before lowering her head.

“You have only eaten a very small amount,” mum says, making me groan internally.

“Well I AM very small,” I retort, making mum frown.

“You won’t grow if you don’t eat,” Ricky says.

“I know, I know,” I say. “I just don’t want to make myself sick…”

“I’ll hold your mouth shut while you swallow,” Ricky offers, earning another stern glare from mum that, for the first time ever, actually shuts him up. I take a deep breath before picking my chopsticks back up and gripping a piece of the sticky, fatty chicken between them. I grimace slightly as I put the food in my mouth, but after much chewing, I finally swallow it, much to the relief of my mother and brother. I ignore their proud smiles as I pick at the food for the rest of the evening, before eventually heading to bed just after 10pm, my belly bloated from the food but my mind proud that I was able to stuff so much into my abused digestive system.

I wake up the following morning just after 8:45am, still slightly sluggish from my bloated stomach but eager and ready to start my hard-earned summer holiday. After taking my boy blocker, I dress for the day- as I have ballet later today, I pull on one of my tiny thongs, followed by my training bra, a small pair of denim shorts and a pink tank top. After applying a light layer of make-up, including darker lipstick than last night, I head downstairs to find mum and Ricky already awake and waiting for me.

“Typical teenager,” Ricky snorts as I sit down, smirking as I always do when I sit down whilst wearing a thong.

“This is still about two hours earlier than you used to get up when you were thirteen!” Mum laughs. “Laura, what have you got planned for today?”

“I dunno,” I reply. “I’ll see what the girls are up to, but I’ll be seeing them tonight at ballet anyway…”

“How’s your ballet coming along?” Ricky asks. “Do you still go to that school where I disgraced myself two years ago?”

“Yep, the same one,” I say, smiling smugly at Ricky’s ‘disgrace’ even if he is making light of it.

“Can you do that trick that ballerinas do where they balance on the ends of their toes?” Ricky asks.

“Pointe work?” I reply. “Not yet, but I’m not that far off.”

“Yet more dancewear I’ll have to buy,” mum jokes, making both myself and Ricky laugh.

“Ah, you didn’t complain when you bought my army cadet gear,” Ricky jokes.

“Trust me, I did!” Mum says, earning more laughs from Ricky and myself.

“Well,” Ricky says, turning to me, “if you’re not doing anything else today, I can take you for a haircut if you want?”

“Oh- don’t start this again,” mum moans.

“My hair doesn’t need cutting,” I say firmly.

“Cutting isn’t the only thing they do during a ‘haircut’,” Ricky says smugly.

“I’m still not interested,” I say.

“How about,” Ricky says, “you agree to let me take you for a haircut, and I promise that your hair won’t be shortened by any more than an inch?”

“Doesn’t seem like there’s much point in having it cut, then,” mum says.

“Yeah, well like I said,” Ricky says. “It’s not just ‘cutting’ they’ll be doing. Anything you don’t like, you can have undone.”

“Well, okay,” I guess, making Ricky nod and smile smugly. Two years ago, the prospect of a haircut- or whatever Ricky has planned- would have chilled me to the bone, but this clearly isn’t the same obnoxious idiot from that time… As proved two hours later when I step out of the unisex hairdresser Ricky took me to. It turns out that the hairdresser he took me to see is the sister of one of his squad mates, who heard about my ordeal last summer and asked Ricky if there was anything she could do- and the answer was ‘yes’.

“This is so cool,” I laugh as the gentle breeze blows my hair around my head- hair which has had twelve-inch long extensions weaved into it.

“Glad you approve,” Ricky says. “Obviously you’ll have to remove them before you go back to school, but I figured that for the rest of the summer…”

“Thank you, thank you so much!” I squeak, giving Ricky another quick hug, much to his embarrassment.

“Yeah, you’re welcome, just not in public, okay?” My brother laughs.

“I can’t wait to show the girls this,” I laugh. “And Phil…” I grimace slightly as Ricky bristles at the mention of my boyfriend.

“Oh, whatever,” I snort. “You had girlfriends when you were thirteen, didn’t you?”

“Well- yes,” Ricky concedes. “I wouldn’t want you turning out like any of them, though! Doubt any of them were still virgins by their fifteenth birthday…”

“Yeah, well I’m more sensible than them,” I retort. “Which means I’m MORE, you know, ‘suitable’ for having a boyfriend!”

“Yeah- Laura…” Ricky sighs. “You’re still a thirteen year old girl who looks eleven, AND- and this isn’t meant as an insult, just a fact- you’re still getting used to being a girl, even though it’s been two years now. Combine that with your troubles over the past year… I AM worried about you. Has ‘Phil’ started puberty yet?”

“I think so,” I shrug. “He’s a month older than me, so he’ll be fourteen in three months’ time, his voice is certainly deeper than it was this time last year.”

“Yeah, take it from someone who’s been there and done that,” Ricky says. “He WILL pressure you into having sex before you’re ready.”

“Phil’s not like that-“ I argue, before being cut off.

“No, trust me, he WILL,” Ricky insists. “Obviously the law says you can’t have sex until you’re sixteen, but- whatever, different people are ready at different times.”

“Don’t worry, I plan on waiting until I’m sixteen,” I say, realising immediately that Ricky DOES have a point.

“Good,” Ricky says. “Your boyfriend might be so willing, especially if he’s older than you- even if it is just by a month. Have you talked to him about it?”

“Umm, not really,” I say. “Mostly we just hang out together, kiss a bit…”

“Make sure that’s all you do,” Ricky cautions. “It’s bad enough you’re wearing clothing meant for an older teenager.”

“God knows what you’ll think about me wearing a thong,” I chuckle, making Ricky roll his eyes.

“I think the word I’m looking for is ‘horrified’,” Ricky sighs, making me chuckle harder as we head home, where Ricky drops me off before going to meet with some friends. As I enter the living room, however, my smile widens as I see an unexpected figure sat on my sofa- that of the boy Ricky and I were discussing mere minutes earlier.

“Hi Laura,” Phil says nervously, greeting me with a brief kiss. “I love your hair…”

“Thanks,” I say, twirling the blonde extensions in my finger. “Have you been here long?”

“Not long,” Phil says, before pausing as mum comes out of the kitchen, stopping in her tracks as she sees my new look.

“Oh, hi Laura,” mum says, greeting me as though I were a total stranger. “Where- are they hair extensions?”

“Yep!” I say happily. “Ricky took me to have them done. Like them?”

“Aren’t you a bit young for hair extensions?” Mum asks.

“Mum!” I retort. “I’m not a little kid, loads of other girls have had them, Nicole had extensions put in over Easter…”

“Okay, fine,” mum sighs. “Just- next time tell me before you make any changes to your body, okay?”

“Am I going to have to get your permission to wear make-up now too?” I ask, earning a VERY stern stare from my mum.

“Don’t push your luck, young lady,” mum cautions, silencing me as I sit down on the sofa next to Phil.

“Well, I like your hair,” Phil whispers, making me smile as mum disappears back into the kitchen. “Has it ever been that long before?”

“Nope,” I say with a smug smile. “But it will be, eventually.” My smile disappears as Phil’s hand slowly starts to stray toward my bare thigh, and I bristle as his cold fingers touch my warm skin. No… I think to myself. Please don’t prove Ricky right…

“Do- do you want a drink?” I ask, jumping off the sofa, which clearly disappoints Phil.

“Your mum was getting me a lemonade,” Phil says. “Don’t- don’t you like-“

“It’s…” I say, shivering a little. “Your fingers are a little cold, that’s all…” Phil chuckles, before breathing on his hands and rubbing them together, warming them up. When I sit back down, I again bristle as his fingers gently stroke the exposed skin of my leg. He obviously withdraws his hand as mum returns with our drinks, but I can’t get out of my head the thought that soon, he’ll ask me for something I really won’t want to give him…

Phil sticks around for another hour before being picked up by his mother, and, obviously, giving me a kiss goodbye as he leaves. Ricky arrives home just in time for dinner (which I am again unable to finish). Afterwards, I head upstairs- whilst still getting used to my new hair- and change into my pink tights and dark blue leotard for tonight’s ballet lesson. Ricky smiles at me as I head downstairs with my hair tied back into a ponytail, giggling as the extension tickle the bare spots of my back.

“Have fun,” my brother says. “Kinda wish I could go with you, but that’s probably not a good idea…” I can’t help but feel sorry for Ricky as he sits back on the sofa, watching TV with a disappointed look on his face.

“I- I could always vouch for you…” I offer.

“You vouched for him last time,” mum says quietly to me. “And your teacher DID say she’d call the police if he showed up again…”

“That was two years ago,” I retort. “You’ve seen how much he’s changed, surely?”

“Well-“ mum sighs. “Ask your teacher tonight if he can come along tomorrow.”

“He’s going out with friends tomorrow night,” I say.

“Honestly, don’t worry on my behalf,” Ricky says.

“No,” I say defiantly. “You did something nice for me today, it’s only fair that I do something nice for you.”

“…I’ll wait in the car until you okay it with your teacher then, I guess…” Ricky says as he follows myself and mum out to her car. When I arrive at the studio, I’m greeted by my six friends, all of whom coo over my new hair- especially Ashley, for obvious reasons.

“Hey girls!” Miss Fullerton says as she lets her previous class out of the studio. “Laura, I LOVE that new hair! Keep it tied down rather than in a bun, you don’t want your extensions flying out everywhere! Before you go in, I know you’ve only been on holiday for less than a day, but I wanted to strike while the iron’s hot- I’m running a summer school this year for my intermediate and advanced classes, and with all of you only a few weeks away from pointe shoes, I figure you might be interested? It’ll be 3 extra classes a week for three weeks, and you can spread those classes over the summer so they don’t clash with your holidays.”

“I’ll have to talk to my mum about this,” Megan says, before putting Miss Fullerton’s flyer in her dance bag.

“Well I’m in!” Nicole happily exclaims.

“Me too!” Suriya squeaks. “So’s Priya!”

“Do I get a say in this, then?” Priya asks, rolling her eyes as she follows her sister and the other girls into the studio.

“Miss Fullerton,” I say, making the tall woman pause before heading to her class.

“What is it, Laura?” Miss Fullerton asks. “I know the summer classes aren’t cheap, but-“

“My- my brother’s out in the car,” I say nervously. “He wants to know if he can watch the lesson.” Miss Fullerton’s face darkens as she remembers the last time Ricky set foot in the studio- and it’s easy to understand her reluctance.

“He IS the one who rescued me last summer,” I say as the teacher remains silent. “He’s the one who got me these extensions… He really has changed, I promise.”

“I’m taking your word for it, Laura,” Miss Fullerton says. “If he misbehaves, even slightly, you BOTH leave, okay?”

“Okay!” I say with a smile, returning a few seconds later with my mother and brother in tow. True to his word, Ricky sat down in one of the chairs provided and remained silent through the whole lesson, watching me as I performed my steps. Most of the steps our class is doing right now are designed to prepare us for pointe shoes and our next exam, so there’s no real opportunity to ‘perform’, but after the lesson I sneak one of Miss Fullerton’s practice tutus out of her closet and step into it, performing a quick routine to the delight of my mother and brother… And to the delight of my teacher, who surprises me mid-routine with a cough, causing me to stumble.

“It’s not that I mind you pinching my tutus,” Miss Fullerton laughs, “it’s just that I didn’t expect you to be the least well-behaved White sibling this evening!” I blush as I step out of the tutu, and much to my surprise, Ricky blushes as well.

“Yeah,” Ricky grimaces. “I, um, I wanted to apologise for the way I acted when I was last here, I was a twat, I was inappropriate… I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Miss Fullerton says with a smug smile. “You know, my adult beginner class has a few spaces, especially for male students…”

“Ehh… Not my thing,” Ricky grimaces. “Besides, it’d be awkward as I live and work in North Yorkshire. The commute…” A smile creeps onto Ricky’s face as Miss Fullerton playfully giggles at his joke. “I could always make it up to you some other way, if you’d like?” I let out a small giggle as Miss Fullerton smiles smugly at Ricky, before turning to the tall, long-haired man who’d just walked into the studio- who I immediately recognise as her long-term boyfriend- and greeting him with a long, deep kiss.

“See you tomorrow night, girls!” Miss Fullerton says as she locks the studio behind us and gets in her boyfriend’s car.

“Wow, that was an EPIC crash and burn!” I tease Ricky.

“Shut up,” Ricky snorts, before getting into mum’s car and driving home. After doing yet more dance steps at home for Ricky, I head to bed just after 9pm to rest ahead of a busy day tomorrow.

I wake up at 8am after a dreamless sleep, and after showering- taking extra care with my new hair extensions- I pull on a clean thong and training bra, smirking at the idea that I might get to wear a thong all week if I attend Miss Fullerton’s summer school. After applying a similar amount of make-up to yesterday (and touching up my nail polish), I pull on a clean tank top and a short black denim skirt before heading downstairs to find mum alone in the kitchen.

“Oh, PLEASE tell me I’m up before Ricky,” I say.

“No, he went out early,” mum says. “What time do you want me to drop you round to Nicole’s?”

“Umm, if we go just after nine it should be okay,” I say as I finish my breakfast, actually feeling disappointed that I’m not going to get to ‘spar’ with my brother before going out. My disappointment soon vanishes, however, as I’m dropped outside Nicole’s posh house, where I’m greeted with a brief hug from the brown-haired girl herself.

“Hey Laura!” Nicole squeaks as she leads me into her living room. “I can’t wait to play with that hair… And I love that skirt!”

“Thanks!” I giggle as I plop down on Nicole’s huge sofa, whilst she gets her make-up and hair kits.

“I can’t believe your brother!” Nicole shouts. “It’s like he’s a whole new person!”

“Speaking of,” I ask, “where are your brother and sister?”

“Got rid of them,” Nicole says smugly. “Mum and dad have taken them to Legoland for the day, so the house is all mine!”

“Really?” I ask. “They don’t mind leaving you home alone?”

“Oh whatever,” Nicole snorts. “I’m thirteen, I’m not a little kid. They’re more worried about the house than about me, and so they should be!”

“Well- okay,” I say, excited but also nervous at the prospect of being alone without an adult presence. Before long, the rest of our friends arrive, and it doesn’t take long for me to realise the REAL reason Nicole got rid of her parents, as Ashley coolly strolls down the stairs wearing a short blue dress and bright pink lipstick. At least… I think that’s the real reason, as when we’re all congregated in the living room, Nicole doesn’t waste any time in letting us all know exactly how we’ll be having fun today.

“Now that all the girls are finally here,” Nicole says, making Ashley giggle, “how about a little bit of ‘heavenly’ music?” All of us giggle even harder as Nicole loads up Out of Heaven’s debut single ‘Heaven is a Place on Earth’ on her iPad, and as has become tradition, Nicole, Suriya, Megan, Harriet and I recreate the dance routine for the song, much to the delight of Priya and Ashley.

We spend the rest of the morning gossiping, listening to music and playing with Nicole’s vast make-up collection, before eating lunch at around 12pm. Just as we’re about to eat, the doorbell rings, much to the surprise of everyone except Nicole.

“I asked Jordan to come round,” Nicole explains with a shrug- but a quick look to my right reveals that this is a much bigger deal than the brown-haired girl realises.

“Nicole,” Suriya hisses quietly. “He doesn’t know about Ashley!”

“So?” Nicole asks. “We’ll just say that she’s another girl.”

“He knows Ashley from school!” I say, angry at Nicole’s disregard for Ashley’s privacy.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind changing,” Ashley says, though the tone of her voice makes it plain just how disappointed she would be if she did have to change back into ‘boy mode’.

“You wouldn’t be able to change back in time,” Suriya says. “Jordan’s already here, he’ll be suspicious as to where you’ve been this whole time.” Another ring from the doorbell sends Ashley into near-panic, before the always level-headed Priya takes control of the situation.

“Ashley, Suri, Laura, go upstairs to Nicole’s bedroom,” Priya says. “You can wait up there until Jordan leaves.” Nicole opens her mouth to protest, but shuts it again when she realises that she’s the reason we’re in this situation in the first place.

“Why do I have to go up there as well?” I ask as I follow Suriya and Ashley out of the kitchen.

“Because I’m not leaving my sister alone with her boyfriend!” Priya laughs.

“If you were that worried you’d go up here yourself,” I mutter under my breath as the three of us shut ourselves in Nicole’s extra-girly pink bedroom. In many ways, it’s similar to mine- only it’s a lot bigger. Ashley, Suriya and I entertain ourselves by reading some of Nicole’s old magazines before heading back downstairs when Jordan leaves just after 3pm- by which point all three of are starving after having skipped lunch. I in particular am in a lot of pain- any slight change to my eating pattern results in a lot of discomfort in my still-recovering digestive system, and Nicole’s enthusiastic tales of her upcoming holiday are the last thing I need to hear right now.

I eventually leave Nicole’s house about an hour later, still in a lot of stomach pain, and am given a lift home by Megan’s parents.

“Are you okay?” The bespectacled girl asks me as we speed away from Nicole’s house. “Only you skipped lunch, and you know you shouldn’t do that…”

“I’ll be fine,” I sigh, though my heavy breathing is an obvious giveaway that I’m lying.

“I can’t believe Nicole,” Megan spits. “AND Priya, she should’ve known that you can’t skip meals…”

“Oh, whatever,” I laugh. “They’re both going on holiday soon, and besides, you’re my REAL best friend anyway!” Megan giggles happily as we head home, where I try to disguise my discomfort from my mum as she makes me dinner before ballet. However, despite my hunger, I’m still unable to finish the plateful of food put in front of me, leaving me feeling tired and weak ahead of tonight’s class.

“Hey girlies!” Nicole happily squeaks as I arrive at the class with Megan and Harriet in tow. I force a smile on my face despite being tired and in pain and in no mood to deal with Nicole’s eternal optimism as I head into the dance studio. When I emerge sixty minutes later, my smile is entirely gone.

“Not long to go to pointe shoes!” Nicole happily squeaks as she pulls her flimsy dance skirt back on.

“So cool,” Priya laughs. “Can’t believe it’s taken nearly two years…”

“Just wish Ashley could join in with us,” Suriya says, lowering the tone of the conversation- but, annoyingly, not lowering Nicole’s smile.

“Well,” the brown-haired girl says smugly, “he’ll just have to tell his parents who SHE really is, won’t SHE?”

“Or she could just wait for you to nearly accidentally out her again,” I remark, earning a dark stare from Nicole.

“I’ve apologised to Ashley for that,” Nicole says firmly. “Just goes to show how much of a girl she is that sometimes I forget about her as much as I forget about you!” And my stomach… I think to myself. Once the six of us are changed, we meet up with Ashley before heading out of the studio, to be greeted by an unexpected face.

“Hi Laura, Hi Laura’s friends,” Ricky says. “Mum’s asked me to take you home today.” I initially smile, but my smiles falls as Ricky’s eyes suddenly dart toward Ashley, who’s stood at the back of our group.

“Oh hey,” Ricky says. “Didn’t realise you had boys at your class.”

“You leave him alone!” Suriya says defiantly, wrapping her arm around Ashley’s shoulders.

“Oh what, is she your girlfriend?” Ricky asks, making me cringe.

“YES,” Suriya says, planting a long kiss on Ashley’s reddening cheek.

“Oh, well done mate,” Ricky says with a tone of genuine respect. “Wish I’d known about dance classes when I was young and single… Come on, get in.” Megan, Harriet and I climb into the car, waving at our friends as Ricky drives us away.

“You’ve got to respect that,” Ricky chuckles. “Dressing like a wally to impress girls…”

“He does not look like a wally!” I protest.

“Ashley ‘impresses’ us just for being who he is,” Harriet says. “And besides, he was going out with Suriya BEFORE he started at ballet.”

“Yeah, but he does ballet to keep going out with her, right?” Ricky asks.

“No,” Megan sneers. Ricky chuckles, but remains silent as he drops my two friends off, realising he’s not going to win an argument against three teenaged girls.

“Sorry if I touched a nerve by saying that your friend looked stupid,” Ricky says. “I know that might be a bit sensitive for you, but then again, he IS a boy going to ballet, rather than a girl who used to be a boy, like you are.”

“Yeah…” I say. I open my mouth to speak further, to tell Ricky about Ashley’s ‘true self’, but after telling off Nicole for her earlier mistake, I remain silent- I don’t want to be a hypocrite, after all. An awkward silence fills the car, which is only broken by the grumbling of my still-sore stomach.

“You hungry?” Ricky asks.

“A little,” I complain. “Kinda skipped lunch today…”

“Oh for god’s sake,” Ricky sighs. “You know you’re not supposed to skip meals… I’m taking you to a drive-through, we’re going to get a McFlurry. And before you complain that you’ll gain weight, can I remind you that you’re far skinnier than either of the girls you rode home with tonight?”

“…A McFlurry would be nice,” I say, making Ricky smile as we detour to the nearest drive-through. I eat the cool treat on the way home, and whilst I don’t finish all of it, I eat more than enough to satisfy Ricky’s concern and settle my stomach. I try to forget about my falling-out with Nicole as I head to bed, quickly falling into a deep sleep.

I wake up at 8:30am and rub the tiredness out of my eyes, but I lay in bed for another half hour before eventually getting up. As much as I want to hang out with Nicole today to try to get rid of some of yesterday’s tension, I know that’s not an option- today’s the day she and her family leave for a two week holiday, as are Priya, Suriya and their family. After sending all three of them Facebook messages wishing them a good holiday, I switch off my tablet computer and swing my legs out of bed, before washing, applying my make-up and dressing for the day in a clean pair of panties, my trusty training bra and a loose, plain shirt dress.

“Yes, yes, whatever,” I say as I sit down next to Ricky at the breakfast table. “Teenager sleeping late…”

“Eh, it’s your holiday, if you want to sleep through the whole of it…” Ricky chuckles. ”What have you got planned for today? Apart from sleeping, I mean.”

“Got my counsellor’s meeting this afternoon,” I say. “Other than that, lazy day, I guess. Unless you want to take me to get even more hair extensions put in?”

“No he doesn’t,” mum says sternly as I play with my new hair. After breakfast, I head to the sofa, where I stretch out my tired body. My thoughts turn to Nicole, and how I nearly damaged that friendship a mere two days into the summer holiday, when the doorbell rings. All thoughts of Nicole- and anything else- fly out of my head when I open the door and look up at the person ringing the bell.

“Hello… Laura,” the old woman says. “May I come in?”

“Mum!” I yell, panic threatening to seep into my voice. “Mum!”

“What?” Mum asks as she rushes to the door. “Who is- oh. Hello, Caroline…”

“Hello Michelle,” the old woman says. “May I come in, please?” Mum silently nods and leads the woman into the living room, where Ricky stares at her, his mouth agape.

“G-Grandma?” Ricky asks.

“Hello Ricky!” Our grandmother says with a smile on her face. “This is so good, my whole family is here… Well, my whole family apart from my son, anyway.” Mum’s face darkens and my stomach begins to churn as my grandmother speaks. As should be obvious, the woman speaking isn’t my maternal grandmother- who’s supported my transition right from day one- but my paternal grandmother, my father’s mother, who neither Ricky nor I have seen in over a decade.

“What are you doing here, Caroline?” Mum asks, placing a protective hand on my shoulder.

“I’m here to see why my son had to be sentenced to seven years in prison,” grandma says, sitting down on the sofa with a stoic expression on her face.

“You know very well why,” Ricky says, folding his arms defiantly but still withering under the old woman’s gaze.

“Men don’t get imprisoned for doing what they feel is best for their child,” grandma argues, making my stomach tie itself in knots.

“No, they go to prison for breaking the law,” Ricky snaps. “Pretty sure that in 2014, child abduction was against the law.” Grandma remains silent as Ricky stands up to her, but she’s still clearly unhappy. She hasn’t said anything yet about what I’m wearing, though…

“I see,” grandma finally says. “Le-Laura, how old are you now?”

“Thirteen,” I answer. “Fourteen in November…”

“That’s more than old enough to make your own decisions,” grandma says. “Is it your decision to dress the way you are?”

“Of course,” I say. “I don’t ever want to dress as a boy again, not ever. I’m NOT a boy, I’m a girl!”

“Very well,” grandma says. “In that case, I must apologise for the actions of my son.” Grandma stands up and prepares to leave as mum, Ricky and I stand still, a look of near shock etched on our faces.

“Is- is that it?” Mum asks. “Caroline?”

“I visited Robert in prison last week,” grandma explains. “He explained that L- in his words, ‘Leon’ was being harmed by you forcing him – sorry, her- to live as a girl. Obviously, ‘Laura’ is still my grandchild and I still care about her wellbeing, so I had to come and see for myself.”

“The only thing that’s ‘harmed’ her over the last twelve months is Robert,” mum says. “Laura’s struggled with depression and bulimia ever since she was… Well, you know.”

“I can only apologise again,” grandma says.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Ricky says. “It’s not your fault Robert did what he did.” I wince a little as grandma glares at Ricky for using our father’s first name rather than calling him ‘dad’, but grandma’s glare quickly fades.

“Still,” grandma said. “I did raise him, I should have taught him respect for, well, ‘alternative’ people. Clearly I failed as a mother…”

“You’re a pretty good grandmother, though,” Ricky says, falling straight into grandma’s obviously guilt trap.

“That’s kind of you to say, Ricky,” grandma says with a smile.

“How long are you in London for, Caroline?” Mum asks.

“Well I live in Watford,” grandma explains. “I come into London regularly.”

“And you’ve never dropped by?” Ricky asks.

“Robert told me that you wouldn’t be interested in a visit from me,” grandma sighs. “Clearly I also raised him to be a liar…”

“I’m pretty sure being a dangerous sociopath is more nature than nurture,” Ricky said, actually making grandma laugh.

“Well you’re welcome to stay now,” mum says.

“Good,” grandma says, sitting back down. “There is actually something I want to discuss with you, Michelle. In private, if you don’t mind?”

“Laura, want to go swimming?” Ricky asks before I have a chance to argue.

“Um, with my extensions?” I ask.

“Ice skating, then,” Ricky says, leading me out of the living room and into mum’s car before I have a chance to argue.

“What- what do you suppose they’re discussing?” I ask. “What’s so important they have to get rid of us?”

“Compensation, hopefully,” Ricky says, handing me his phone. “Want to call your friends and see if they want to come skating too?”

“Sure,” I say. I start typing a number into the phone, and I actually surprise myself when the first phone number that springs to mind is Phil’s.

“Hello?” A middle-aged woman, who I instantly recognise as Phil’s mother, asks.

“Oh, hello Mrs. Brooks,” I ask. “Is Phil there, please? It’s Laura…”

“Oh, hello Laura,” Mrs. Brooks says. “I’ll just go and get him…” Before I can say ‘thank you’, Ricky grabs the phone from me and abruptly ends the call.

“What the hell?” I ask.

“I said ‘friend’, not ‘boyfriend’,” Ricky says. “I’ll supervise your friends but I’m not chaperoning a date!”

“FINE,” I sigh. “Can I at least log into Facebook on here so I can apologise for you hanging up like that?”

“Make it quick,” Ricky says in a near-growl. And here I was thinking he was accepting of me having a boyfriend…

After sending my message, I call Harriet, Megan and Ashley, but none of them are available, so I spend the next hour skating around an indoor ice rink with Ricky- who, annoyingly, is far better at ice skating than I am, frequently speeding off around the rink whilst I’m barely able to let go of the handrail at the side. Every time Ricky zips away, I feel a momentary sense of panic as I’m left all alone in the crowd- it was in exactly this type of situation that I was kidnapped this year. Fortunately, every time Ricky vanishes for a lap of the rink, he reappears mere seconds later, but I still have to fight the urge to hold his hand as we leave the rink and get back in mum’s car to head home.

Much to my surprise, when we arrive home, grandma is still there- and even more surprising, she gets in mum’s car (forcing me to get onto the back seat).

“Your grandmother will be coming with us to the meeting today,” mum announces as she also slides onto the back seat of the car.

“Umm, okay…” I say, but inside, I’m not happy- these meetings are supposed to be for my benefit, so surely I should get the final say in who does and doesn’t come along?

Nonetheless, when I enter Dr Williamson’s office, grandma accompanies us, shaking the counsellor’s hand and introducing herself as we sit down.

“I really like your hair, Laura,” Dr Williamson says with a smile as she ‘opens’ the session. “I take it that was a treat for the summer holidays?”

“Yeah, from Ricky,” I say, making my brother smile smugly.

“I’m glad to see that you’re both getting along well,” Dr Williamson says. “Support of a sibling may generally be seen as less important than support of a parent, but it really can make a difference. As can support of a grandparent… Mrs. White, may I ask why you wanted to accompany Laura today?”

“I’m sure you’re aware of the circumstances surrounding my son and my granddaughter,” grandma says.

“Yes, we’ve discussed it extensively in our sessions,” Dr Williamson confirms.

“Last week, I went to visit my son in prison,” grandma explains. “He explained his side of the story, and today I visited London to hear Laura’s side of the story. Obviously, I accept that my son was in the wrong. However, when I visited him, he did make one request- that I visit him again, but I bring Laura with me.” My stomach churns as grandma makes her request known- the thought of seeing dad again is literally making me feel sick.

“Laura,” Dr Williamson asks. “Do you want to see your father again?”

“No, never,” I say, making grandma sigh sadly.

“I don’t see that it would do any good,” Ricky says bluntly.

“He’s still your father, whether you choose to accept it or not,” grandma says, silencing my brother. “And it will do him good, force him to accept that you are his daughter, not his son.” I take a deep breath to try to calm my nerves, but every breath I take is shaky, such is my terror at the thought of seeing the man who abducted me.

“What he did was despicable,” mum argues. “He doesn’t deserve Laura’s love, or even her attention… But at the same time, there’s nothing he can do to harm her any more, not where he is.”

“Ultimately, this has to be Laura’s decision,” Dr Williamson says. “But if I were to make a recommendation… It would be to NOT go, at least not at this point in time.” I look over at grandma, and it’s clear that she doesn’t agree with the counsellor’s recommendation.

“But it IS Laura’s decision,” grandma insists.

“Laura’s recovery is at a critical phase,” Dr Williamson explains. “It’s important that she doesn’t over-exert herself emotionally. A confrontation with her father could cause a serious bout of depression, in extreme circumstances even a relapse of her bulimia. I’m quite satisfied that her ordeal last year was a main cause of her bulimia, which is why I would be extremely reluctant to let her see her father.”

“I’m… I’m going to have to think about this,” I say.

“Of course,” Dr Williamson says. “In the meantime, it’s also the summer holidays, in a few months’ time you’ll be starting Year 9- how does this make you feel?”

“Okay,” I say, before going into detail about all my hopes for the coming school year. I spend the next hour with Dr Williamson discussing the usual topics- school, my weight, my family- and end, as always, with a request for oestrogen pills, a request that is, as always, declined. The tone of Dr Williamson’s voice as we leave, though, strongly hints that my decision regarding whether or not to go and see my father will influence whether or not I get those precious pills sooner rather than later.

After a quick lunch at Subway- which I, of course, can’t finish- the four of us arrive back home. Grandma only stays another hour before heading back to her home in Watford, and Ricky leaves to go out with friends shortly afterward, leaving me alone with my thoughts. The day’s events are understandably exhausting, so I get an early night. When I wake up the following morning- after washing and dressing in a comfortable pink t-shirt and short denim skirt- I’m unsurprised to find Ricky at the breakfast table, but I am surprised when grandma- grandma White, my father’s mother- returns shortly after I finish breakfast.

“Hello Laura, Ricky,” grandma says as mum escorts her into the living room. “Have you made your decision yet, Laura?”

“Not yet,” I sigh. “I mean, I want to see him, confront him, but- I’m scared…”

“No child should be scared of their own father,” grandma tuts.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s more Robert’s fault than Laura’s,” Ricky says bluntly- and for once, grandma is forced to agree with him. “Actually,” my brother continues. “What were his exact words when he asked Laura to go and see him?”

“His exact words were ‘I want to see my son, to make sure that he’s not being turned into some kind of freak’,” grandma answers, making me feel sick to my stomach.

“Well then,” Ricky says. “Problem solved- his son WILL go and see him.”

“But I’m NOT his son,” I argue.

“No, no you’re not,” Ricky says with a smug smile. “But I am. I’ll go and see him, as his son, and tell him that he either accepts you or he can rot in prison forever.”

“He still wants to see Laura, though,” grandma says, making Ricky sigh, before his smug smile returns, wider than ever.

“Then I’ll take him along a photo album,” Ricky says. “I’ve got a camera on my phone, we’ll have a photoshoot today. Laura can wear her ballet uniform, her school uniform… We’ll make it clear to Robert that he does NOT have a say in the way she’s going to live her life.”

“Well- fine, I suppose,” grandma sighs, and it’s all I can do not to jump straight off the sofa and immediately change into the clothes Ricky mentioned. Nonetheless, I give Ricky a long, tight hug, deeply embarrassing the young man as he tries to push me away from him.

“Um, thanks, but no thanks,” Ricky laughs as I finally release him. “What was that for?”

“For getting me off the hook,” I laugh.

A short while later, after enhancing my make-up, of course, I change into virtually every outfit in my wardrobe one by one so that Ricky can photograph me for his ‘album’. I start with my freshly-washed school uniform, complete with hot, thick grey tights (that go straight back in the wash, much to mum’s dismay), followed by my gymnastics leotard, my ballet uniform (in which I perform a few steps, much to grandma’s amusement), my school swimming costume, some of the costumes I’ve worn at drama and some of my best dresses, finishing with the dress I wore to my ‘first date’ with Phil in February. I go to sit back down, exhausted from the ‘photoshoot’, before an idea pops into my head.

“Ricky,” I say, “can we go for a drive? I’ve thought of something else for your ‘album’…” Ricky looks at me quizzically, but agrees to take me out for a drive- though his face falls when he realises that I’m directing him to Phil’s house.

“Ugh,” Ricky moans as we pull up outside the posh residence. “Even I don’t want to see this…”

“Isn’t the whole point of the album to piss off dad?” I ask.

“It’s to try to bring him back to reality,” Ricky says.

“Yeah, well the reality is, Phil is my boyfriend,” I say. “I love him…”

“No, no you don’t,” Ricky says. “You’re thirteen, you haven’t even started puberty yet. Yes, I know that isn’t your fault, but don’t go throwing the ‘love’ word around until you’re older and you know what it means.” I snort and spend the rest of the trip in silence, but as we pull up outside Phil’s house, my heart begins to flutter at the thought of seeing the handsome young man and my hands begin to tremble. So much for not knowing what love means…

“Oh- hi Laura!” Phil says as he answers the front door. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” I ask with a giggle. “I’m here to see you…”

“Umm, my sister and her fiancé are here,” Phil says. “And you’re wearing your ‘date dress’… I can’t really get away right now, I’m afraid…”

“This won’t take long,” I say, taking Phil’s hand and leading him to Ricky’s car, where my brother reluctantly shakes Phil’s hand.

“I’m sorry I hung up the phone on you yesterday,” Ricky says. “Ricky White, Laura’s older brother, and your worst nightmare if Laura ever comes to me cry-“

“Ricky!” I say, silencing my brother. “Phil, you know about… Well, about me and my dad, right?”

“Yes, of course,” Phil says. “What’s happened?”

“His mother- my grandmother- wants me to go and visit him in prison,” I explain, making Phil’s eyes go wide with concern.

“You’re not actually going, are you?” Phil asks.

“No, Ricky’s going in my place,” I say. “But he’s going to take along a photo album of me, well, ‘being a girl’. And that wouldn’t be complete with one of these pictures…” I lean in to Phil and give him a long, soft kiss, before looking at Ricky, who can barely stand to look at me.

“That’s your cue to take a photo,” I say to Ricky, who sighs and points his camera at myself and Phil as we kiss again. My knees begin to quiver as my lips part and Phil’s tongue enters my mouth. Once Ricky has his photos, I withdraw from Phil’s mouth, but I give the handsome boy another quick kiss before getting back in the car with Ricky.

We arrive home a short while later, only to discover yet another surprise waiting on my sofa- my other grandmother, my mother’s mother.

“Hello Laura!” Grandma Clarke (my mother’s mother) says, giving me a long hug. “Hello Ricky! I hope your sister’s not using you as a taxi during your leave!”

“No, I’m getting used as a wallet as well,” Ricky sighs, earning a playful whack from our grandmother.

“I understand you’re putting together a photo album of Laura, is that right?” Grandma Clarke asks.

“Yep,” Ricky says. “Got it on my phone if you want to have a look?”

“I’d love to,” Grandma Clarke says, “but we’re about to head out for lunch, all five of us.” Rather than argue, Ricky simply nods and pulls back on the boots he’d only just taken off when he entered the house.

“And I hope you’re not planning on wearing that much make-up to lunch, young lady!” Grandma White (my father’s mother) says to me, backed up by a stern stare from Grandma Clarke.

“…I’ll go and wash it off,” I mumble, slinking upstairs where I remove all but a very light layer of make-up, before returning and once again climbing into mum’s car. Lunch goes better than I expected, as both of my grandmothers get on well and always have done, despite the animosity between their children. Once again, I don’t finish my meal, but it’s not for want of trying, and I have a smile on my face despite my full belly as I head home with Grandma Clarke.

“I do like your other grandmother,” Grandma Clarke says. “God only knows where your father got his foulness from. Your other grandfather- her husband- wasn’t as obnoxious as him, let me tell you!”

“What was he like?” I ask. “I think he died the year before I was born, didn’t he?”

“He died at the start of 2001, so the same year you were born,” grandma says. “I didn’t know him that well, but he always had a smile on his face. He was VERY good with Ricky when he was younger, loved helping him play with his Action Men, just like my husband did…”

“So, so Grandpa White would have…” I ask.

“Accepted you?” Grandma asks. “Of course he would, just as your Grandpa Clarke would have done. The only rotten apple in your family is your father, and he’s where he belongs- behind bars! I’m so glad you decided not to go and see him, Laura.”

“So am I,” I say. “I mean, I know I’ll have to face him eventually, they can’t keep him in prison forever…”

“As much as he deserves it,” grandma spits. “But by the time he gets out, you’ll be twenty years old, an adult- and there’ll be nothing he can do about you being the person you want to be.”

“Unless he gets early parole for good behaviour,” I sigh.

“Even then, he can only apply after half his sentence,” grandma says. “That’s three and a half years, you’ll still be sixteen, not quite an adult but not quite a child either. And you never know, your father may eventually see sense. I mean, look at your brother…”

“If he doesn’t see sense, it’s his loss,” I spit, making grandma laugh as we arrive home. After bidding Grandma White farewell with a long hug (I won’t get the chance to see her before she and Ricky go to visit dad in prison) and saying goodbye to Grandma Clarke with an even longer hug, I head upstairs to change from my fancy dress back into the same skirt and t-shirt I was wearing earlier, before returning to the living room to find Ricky already hard at work on his laptop, editing the photos her took of me earlier today. We spend the whole evening working on the ‘album’- Ricky even sends me upstairs to put more make-up on for some close-up shots- before I head to bed at 10:30pm with a smile on my face.

I wake up on Sunday morning just after 8am with my smile still firmly attached to my face- even if I do slightly burying up under a layer of pink lipstick, before dressing in a multi-coloured knee-length sundress and heading downstairs to breakfast. Ricky obviously went out last night after I went to bed as he’s still asleep after I finish eating (but, obviously, I don’t finish the food that has been prepared for me), meaning that when Harriet, Megan and Ashley arrive to hang out, we have to keep the volume down until he’s up and about.

“Wow, Laura,” Megan says after I finish telling everyone the take of what had happened since Grandma White’s return. “Your family life really is complicated, isn’t it?”

“God, you don’t know the half of it,” I sigh as Harriet and I paint Megan’s nails a pale red colour.

“Well, at least you’re NOT going to see your dad,” Harriet sighs. “I’ve only seen mine a couple of times since I started living with my mum… Arsehole still thinks I’m some sort of freak for not bullying you anymore…”

“Yeah, well like you said,” I say with a smile. “Arsehole!” The four of us giggle loudly, giggling louder as Ricky walks into the kitchen wearing a dressing gown, clearly hungover from the night before.

“Thanks for waking me up,” Ricky complains as he pours himself a cup of coffee.

“Typical adults, always sleeping in later than everyone else on Sunday mornings…” I tease.

“Shut up,” Ricky says. “Where’s the rest of your gang, anyway?”

“On holiday,” I say, before grimacing as Ricky’s eyes once again drift toward Ashley.

“Got no male friends to hang out with?” Ricky teases, earning very stern stares from Megan, Harriet and myself.

“Leave him alone,” Harriet says, placing a supportive arm around Ashley’s shoulders.

“Huh, I thought the little Indian girl was your girlfriend?” Ricky asks the embarrassed boy. “Or do they, you know, share you?”

“No,” Ashley mumbles. “I just like hanging out with the girls, that’s all…”

“You don’t have a go at me for hanging out with girls, do you?” I ask my brother.

“Well, no, because you ARE a girl,” Ricky laughs. “Stick him in a dress and I’ll stop have a go.”

“You’ll stop having a go full stop,” I say as Ashley looks more and more embarrassed. “Have you finished the photo album?”

“Just got to print it,” Ricky says. “Unless you want to get a few more photos now…”

“Actually, that could be pretty cool,” Harriet says. “You’re doing this to wind up your dad, aren’t you?”

“Not JUST to wind him up,” Ricky says, finishing his coffee. “Just give me a second to get dressed, then I’ll get my camera.”

“This’ll be so cool,” Megan laughs. “A bit like your twelfth birthday party…”

“Another reason to hate my dad, keeping me away from that,” Harriet sighs.

“Another reason to hate being a year younger!” Ashley giggles. Ricky returns a short while later with his camera phone and takes extra photos, mostly of me getting a makeover from Harriet and Megan but a few of the three of us teasing Ashley as well- the emphasis of those photos being that I’m ‘one of the girls’, something that’s never been more true than today.

The girls- including Ashley- stay for dinner, and as we review the freshly-printed photo album, I realise that I’ve never felt happier than I do at this moment in time. So happy, in fact, that I barely notice when I finish every last morsel of food on my plate for the first time in months.

The following day, Ricky takes the photo album with him when he visits dad in prison, and returns with news which I find both wonderful and terrible- dad hated the album. Hated it so much, in fact, that he went ballistically angry… In the middle of the prison, with several guards surrounding him, thereby torpedoing what little chance he ever had of an early parole. I had to giggle when Ricky said that dad was more upset about upsetting Grandma White than he was about being restrained by the prison guards. Even better was that the photo album survived the trip, and now takes pride of place on Grandma White’s bookshelf. Knowing that I have another relative who loves me less than an hour up the road- and not just another relative, but another grandmother- is a source of extreme comfort. Hopefully she’ll be a part of my future- and hopefully my so-called father will remain a part of my past.

In the meantime, I have six long weeks of summer to look forward to, relaxing with my family- new and old- my friends and my boyfriend. And, for the first time in a long while, I’m not desperate for oestrogen, either- Dr Williamson will give me those pills when she feels I’m ready for them, and they’ll cause more good than harm. My first two years as Laura provided challenges that would test anyone’s limits- but I’ve passed. As Ricky unequivocally stated: I AM a girl. And I can’t wait to see what my third year of womanhood will bring!