“Extend,” Miss Fullerton advises. “Really stretch your leg out, see how it feels.” I comply, extending my leg to its fullest as my foot stretches downward, supporting my entire weight on the tips of my toes. Nicole, Harriet, Megan, Priya and Suriya all giggle as they watch me switch to my other foot, eventually standing en pointe on both feet in the brand-new shiny satin shoes.

“These still feel a little loose around my heel,” I say, earning groans from my friends- not to mention the gaggle of parents that are accompanying us- but an understanding nod from our ballet teacher.

“These shoes need to be a PERFECT fit,” Miss Fullerton explains. “If they’re even slightly tight or loose, you risk breaking your ankle every time you dance. Trust me- I’ve seen it happen.”

“These will be, like, your seventh pair that you’ve tried on!” Nicole sighs.

“It took me twelve pairs to get mine,” Miss Fullerton says. “Of course, that WAS twelve years ago…” I slip off the shoes that I’m currently wearing, exposing my dark blue toenails underneath my baby pink tights. All of us have worn our ballet uniforms to the pointe shoe shop, though we’ve all covered it up slightly, as it is still a cold November day- Megan, Harriet and Priya are all wearing loose, light-coloured tracksuit bottoms, whilst Nicole, Suriya and I have opted for short, floaty skirts, not unlike the flimsy dance skirts I used to wear at my ballet class itself.

“Thank god your boyfriends aren’t here,” Mr. Malik teases his daughters. “They’d be bored out of their skulls!” Priya, Suriya and I all giggle at the middle-aged man’s teasing, though all three of us know that whilst Priya’s boyfriend would indeed be bored, Ashley… Would be more envious than anything.

“Try these, they’re half a size down,” Miss Fullerton says. I slip my feet into the shoes and return to the shop’s barre, where our teacher helps me extend my feet back into the pointe position so familiar to every ballerina. My feet are starting to ache slightly from standing en pointe for so long, but over the past few months, I’ve been undertaking rigorous exercise to help strengthen my feet ready to dance en pointe, and there’s no way my teacher would’ve allowed me to get these shoes if she felt that I wasn’t ready. Still, when I get home, I can’t wait to soak my feet in a warm bowl of water…

“Perfect,” I say with a smile.

“Yes!” Miss Fullerton says with a giggle. “Okay, I’ll get the manager to bag these up for you along with some ribbon and a care kit for your shoes. I hope you’re sewing’s up to scratch!”

“She’ll learn,” mum says, making the whole shop good-naturedly giggle at my expense.

“Okay, five down, one to go,” Miss Fullerton says. “Nicole, you’re up!” Nicole giggles excitedly as she all but skips up to the barre, pulling on the shoes that Miss Fullerton had picked out earlier that matched her foot measurements. Even though I’m excited to get my new pointe shoes- and I can’t wait to dance in them later in the week- as I walk past Nicole I still feel a twinge of sadness. Two months ago, the six of us (minus Priya, who is of course a year older) started our third year at secondary school, and when we returned, the height difference between us and the newly-starting first years was incredible… For everyone apart from me.

Whether it’s due to my male genetics or hormone blockers, I can’t say, but even a week before my fourteenth birthday, I STILL haven’t had my growth spurt. I have grown slightly, but not much- I can’t even fit into the dress my friends bought me for my THIRTEENTH birthday… Meanwhile, my friends are all growing, both in a sense of getting taller and in the sense of ‘growing as women’. Nicole and Megan are both 5’ 4”- the same height as my mother- Harriet and Priya are both 5’ 2” and even the naturally-petite Suriya is a tiny bit taller than I am. I still wear my ‘bralets’ most days, and whilst I’ve felt some small swelling on my chest, all of my friends now have actual defined breasts.

Even worse is that, over the last few months, Phil has dramatically changed as well. He turned fourteen last month now well over six inches taller than me, and starting to grow facial hair and body hair, and whilst I look at him and think ‘thank god I’m never going to grow facial hair’, I can tell he looks at me and thinks ‘why am I going out with a little girl?’. He doesn’t treat me as a little girl, of course- none of my friends do, which is why I love them so much- but I can tell that he looks at some of the older teenagers in our drama class and wishes that either I was one of them… Or that he was going out with one of them instead of me. In a way, it’d be easier if I didn’t like Phil so much- we’ve been going out for almost a year, and at no point during that time have I ever wanted a different boyfriend.

“Okay,” Miss Fullerton says as Nicole poses en pointe in her new shoes. “I think this is THE pair! Right, I’ve done my part, now time for your parents- or rather, their credit cards- to do their part!” The six of us all giggle as we take our new shoes- and our parents- to the counter, where the manager eagerly rings up the sale.

“I hope you realise this is part of your birthday present!” Mum says to me as she hands over her card.

“That’s okay,” I say. “Maybe I’ll put together a dance as part of your birthday next year…” Mum snorts as we leave the shop, our friends and dance teacher following shortly behind.

“Give our best to Hannah tonight!” Nicole says to our extra-tall dance teacher as she departs.

“Thanks!” Miss Fullerton laughs. “Actually got tickets to see Strictly tonight, so keep an eye out for me in the audience!”

“Will do!” Nicole giggles as the teacher gets in her car and drives away. “God, that is SO cool, I want to go and watch Strictly one day…”

“I want to be ON Strictly!” Suriya giggles. “Maybe even dance in my brand new pointe shoes…”

“Mum! Mum! Get a photo!” Nicole squeaks, dragging the six of us into a huddle where we happily pose with our new pointe shoes, our parents taking it in turns to get pictures of us. At home, mum also gets an individual photo of me holding my new shoes, before I get to work sewing the elastic and shiny ribbons to the shoes. I’m not exactly a master seamstress, but both mum and grandma have been giving me tips over the past few months, teaching me how to sew, and within half an hour, I have both shoes completed and looking utterly beautiful. They look even more beautiful after I secure them to my feet and strip down to my jet-black leotard, posing for yet more photos that will inevitably find their way into my paternal grandmother’s scrapbook.

Even though I’ve had it on my body for far longer than I ever have in the past, I still feel a twinge of regret as I peel off my dancewear and pull my skirt and jumper back on, before grabbing my tablet computer and parking myself on my sofa for the rest of the evening.

“Chatting with all the other ballerinas?” Mum laughs as I tuck my smooth, bare legs underneath me.

“Yep,” I say. “Kinda a pity Ashley couldn’t come today.”

“He’s a BOY, dear,” mum laughs. “You heard Mr. Malik, he’d have been bored out of his skull, even if he does dance with you! Well, used to dance with you, anyway.” I smile sadly as mum chuckles- one unintended side-effect of the six of us joining Miss Fullerton’s advanced/pointe class is that Ashley, who joined our class late, will have to wait an extra few months before joining us, possibly even until his thirteenth birthday, which isn’t for another six months. My smile gets even wider, and sadder as I login to Facebook and see his name online near the top of my friends list. Almost immediately as I log in, I’m invited into a group conversation with Ashley and the girls- and there’s obviously only one topic of conversation.

‘Hi pointe sister!!!’ Suriya types.

‘Hi Laura Ballerina!’ Megan types at the same time as Suriya. ‘Done any practice yet in your new shoes?’

‘Hi girlies!’ I type. ‘Maybe just a LITTLE practice, lol!’

‘Same here!’ Megan types, before attaching a photo of her in her leotard, balancing en pointe in her living room.

‘So cool,’ Ashley types, before Suriya attaches a similar photograph of herself balancing en pointe in the Maliks’ vast kitchen. ‘So cute!’

‘Hehe xxxx,’ Suriya types, undoubtedly making her boyfriend blush.

‘I’m really going to miss you girls next week,’ Ashley types, making me sigh sadly.

‘You’ll see us all week at school!’ I reply. ‘And it’s not like you’ll be gone forever…’

‘I know, I know,’ Ashley types. ‘I really, really wish I could’ve gone with you today.’

‘AND got pointe shoes of your own?’ Suriya types.

‘Of course!’ Ashley replies as Priya and Harriet join the conversation.

‘Hey fellow ballerinas!’ Priya- who is presumably in a different room to her sister- types.

‘Hey hey, dancing divas!’ Harriet types, followed by several ‘winking’ emoji.

‘I’ve shown them my photo,’ Suriya types. ‘Come on sis, don’t be shy!’

‘Lol’, Priya types, before sending over a photograph of her long, slender frame balancing en pointe in her parents’ hallway.

‘Ooh! Me next!’ Harriet types, sending her own ‘en pointe’ photo, in which she’s ‘gone the extra mile’ by applying stage make-up and tying her long ginger hair into a bun.

‘Laura…’ Megan types. ‘We haven’t seen yours yet!’

‘Lol,’ I type. ‘Mum only just took it…’

‘Mum only took mine two minutes ago!’ Harriet replies. ‘Still got my pointe shoes on, might type the rest of this convo en pointe!’ As the girls tease me about my missing picture, I open up a second, private chat window to Ashley, whose woes about his- or rather, her- own pointe shoes seem to have been forgotten since Priya and Harriet jointed the conversation.

‘Hey Ash,’ I type. ‘You okay?’

‘Sure,’ Ashley replies. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Really?’ I reply. ‘I know how much this must suck for you, seeing pictures of us with our pointe shoes. I know better than anyone what it must be like!’

‘It’s okay,’ Ashley types. ‘It’s not like it’ll NEVER happen if I want it to.’

‘Atta girl!’ I type with a smiling emoji, earning the same emoji in response from Ashley.

‘Hey girlies!’ Nicole types in the main chat window as I close the chat window with Ashley. ‘Every sharing their new ballerina pics?’

‘Everyone except Laura!’ Harriet types, making me laugh and roll my eyes.

“Mum?” I yell. “Can you forward that photo you took to me, please?”

“Ah, let me guess,” mum laughs. “Everyone comparing their photos online?”

“Yeah,” I giggle. “Well, everyone except Ash…”

“How many times,” mum laughs. “He’s a BOY. You have to be careful he’s not using those photos for, well, umm…”

“Mum!” I chastise, stifling a laugh. “Besides, Ash isn’t like that, he’s…” I pause, not wanting my mouth to run away with me- as much as I trust my mum with my life, Ash did entrust me with his secret, if I told anyone, it’d be a betrayal…

“…he’s what, exactly?” Mum asks. “You’re not planning on dumping Phil and going out with him, are you?”

“No, no no no,” I insist. “That reminds me- I should probably send this photo to Phil as well…”

“Well I’m DEFINITELY not sending you the photo now!” Mum laughs, before sighing. “Okay, there you go, sent.” I giggle as I open up the photos on my tablet, before picking the best one and dropping it into the conversation, much to the delight of all the other girls.

‘Hey Phil,’ I type into a new chat window, underneath the same photo I’d just sent to my friends. ‘Like my new shoes?’

‘So cute,’ Phil replies. ‘Um, I can’t stick around right now, Laura, about to head out with my family. Talk soon xxxx’

‘xxxx,’ I reply as Phil abruptly goes offline.

‘This going to be SO cool,’ Nicole types in the main group chat. ‘We’re all going to be super-talented, super cute ballerinas!’

‘Nearly all of us,’ Ashley types, making me sigh sadly. I go to type a response, even though I know the other five girls will also be typing the exact same thing- which is confirmed mere seconds later when Nicole, Megan, Harriet, Priya, Suriya and I all send through messages that read ‘tell your parents already’ or similar words to that effect.

‘At least talk to Miss Fullerton on Wednesday,’ I type. ‘Tell her you want to do pointe… I’m sure she’ll agree to give you extra tuition.’

‘I’ll think about it,’ Ashley types. ‘G2G now, got to help my parents with dinner, but I’ll see you all tomorrow!’

‘G2G2,’ Priya types. ‘Got to help my parents with preparations for Diwali next week, and so does Suri.’ I giggle as Suriya sends a ‘sticking out tongue’ emoji to her big sister, before the two girls also log out.

I spend the rest of the evening chatting with my friends on Facebook, watching ballet videos on YouTube and, of course, watching Strictly Come Dancing, catching a glimpse of Miss Fullerton in the audience during her friend Hannah’s dance. I eat only a light dinner, but I still just about finish it all, and even have a tiny piece of leftover Halloween chocolate before heading to bed just after 9:30pm. Whilst my weight has increased over the last few months, I’m still slightly underweight for someone my age and height. Dr Williamson has hinted that once I’m a healthy weight, I may finally get the oestrogen prescription I’ve craved for so long, but consciously gaining weight is so, so hard- especially when my friends all seem to be getting skinnier. Harriet and Megan were never ‘small’ girls, but over the last six months, even they have got skinnier as they’ve got taller, Priya and Suriya have always been skinny and Nicole has a very adult body shape for someone who’s only thirteen years old.

As I try to get to sleep, I remember some of the ‘exercises’ Dr Williamson taught me to help me not obsess about my weight. Most of these involve focussing on positives in my life- a task made easier every time I roll over in bed and see the light from outside reflecting off the shiny satin of my new pointe shoes.

I wake up on Sunday morning with a smile on my face, before showering, taking my ‘boy blocker’ and heading downstairs for breakfast in just my nightie and my thick, lilac dressing gown.

“You look happy today!” Mum laughs. “Still excited about your pointe shoes?”

“Hell yeah!” I laugh. “Can’t wait for Tuesday… Can’t wait until I can actually dance in them on stage!”

“I emailed the photo to both of your grandmothers,” mum says. “Obviously, they can’t wait to see you dance either! I take it Phil also, um, ‘liked’ the photo?”

“Yeah,” I giggle. “Mum, I know you disapprove of me having a boyfriend, but you know I like Phil…”

“It’s not ‘having a boyfriend’ I disapprove of,” mum retorts. “It’s how ‘serious’ you’re getting. You’re thirteen, you should be holding hands, kissing only very, very occasionally… Last time you saw him you had his tongue stuck practically all the way down your throat…”

“Okay, one, I’m almost fourteen,” I retort. “Two, it’s 2015, not 1945. Three… I love him.”

“I’m sure you think you do,” mum sighs. “Believe me, I’ve been where you are. I know better than anyone how seemingly nice men can turn into complete monsters.”

“Phil is not like Robert!” I retort, shivering at the mention of my ‘father’s name.

“I never said he was,” mum says. “Just… Be careful, okay? And don’t do anything, ANYTHING until you are sixteen at the very least, and even then, only if you’re absolutely 100% sure that you’re ready. I want you to promise me this, Laura, okay?”

“Sure, I promise,” I say, though I can tell from mum’s facial expression that she’s far from convinced.

After breakfast, I dress in a pair of sheer black tights, a comfy dusky pink jumper and a short black denim skirt, before pulling on a pair of flats, grabbing my new pointe shoes and heading down to mum’s car. A short while later, we pull up outside Nicole’s posh house, where I’m greeted with a hug from the tall, mousey-haired girl- even though physical contact of this kind still makes me squirm a little.

“Hey Laura!” Nicole squeaks. “You’re the first here, for once! Well, assuming you don’t count her!” I giggle as Nicole gestures to her eight year old younger sister, who’s sat on the stairs wearing a ballet uniform almost identical to the one I wore when I started Miss Fullerton’s class over two years ago.

“Hey Sabrina!” I say to the little girl. “You excited about starting Miss Fullerton’s class next week?” I giggle even harder as Sabrina nods, her already-wide grin getting somehow even more excited.

“She absolutely refuses to take off her uniform,” Nicole explains as she leads me into her living room, with her sister following closely behind. “Mum’s actually had to get her four more pairs of tights and another leotard for her to wear around the house!”

“Lucky her,” I sigh.

“Aww,” Nicole coos. “I keep forgetting that when you were eight, you never got to dress up like that… Still, the important thing is that you do now, and even better, you get to wear these!” I laugh with Nicole as she produces her own pointe shoes, along with a set of tools Miss Fullerton recommended we use to ‘break in’ the shoes. Before we get going, however, we’re interrupted by a knock on the door- which turns out to be Priya, Suriya and Ashley.

“Hey girlies and honorary girlie!” Nicole squeaks, giving hugs to all three of our friends before leading them (and, where applicable, their pointe shoes) back into the living room.

“No saris for Diwali?” I ask the two Indian girls, who giggle excitedly.

“We will when we get home!” Suriya replies, before lowering her voice to a whisper. “I’ve promised Miss Moore the opportunity to be an Indian princess for one night, after all…” I smile as Ashley blushes- clearly, with Nicole’s sister here, it means that yet again, she won’t get to be the girl she really is, but at least she’ll get some ‘girly time’ before going home.

“What’s a sari?” Sabrina asks, making us older girls all giggle at her cute innocence.

“It’s a special kind of dress from India,” Suriya explains. “It’s made out of one long, brightly-coloured piece of cloth that girls wrap around their body and over one shoulder.”

“Is it beautiful?” Sabrina asks, prompting ‘aww’s from all five of us.

“VERY beautiful,” Priya says with a smile.

“But not as beautiful as the tutus you’ll be wearing at Miss Fullerton’s class!” Suriya teases, making Sabrina giggle happily. Before long, we’re joined by Megan and Harriet and quickly set to work on our pointe shoes, moulding them to give our feet the maximum support. Of course, the six of us can’t resist posing for a few photographs in our broken-in shoes once we’re done. As I look at Sabrina and Ashley watching on with envy, I actually have a hard time telling which of the two girls is more envious of the six of us. Sabrina, obviously, will eventually graduate onto pointe shoes when she’s progressed enough in her class- possibly even getting them before she turns twelve- but as for Ashley…

Once we’re finished with our pointe shoes (for today, anyway), the eight of us collapse on Nicole’s plush sofas for an extended gossip session- one of my favourite parts of any weekend.

“Dad’s unhappy that we have to be at school all through Diwali,” Priya explains. “But as he’s on the board of governors, he can’t exactly pull us out of school for the week without getting REALLY told off…”

“What’s Diwali?” Sabrina asks, making everyone smile yet again at her innocence. “Is it like Indian Christmas?”

“A bit,” Suriya says.

“Didn’t you study it at school?” Nicole asks her younger sister, who shakes her head in response. “Huh, I definitely learned about Diwali when I was at primary school… Didn’t get to dress up in pretty saris, though!”

“That’s definitely the best part of it,” Suriya laughs.

“Don’t let dad hear you say that!” Priya says, making her younger sister laugh even harder.

“Of course our brother like the last day, the Bhai Dooj, best of all,” Suriya says.

“Isn’t your brother at university now?” Harriet asks.

“Yes, but he comes home for Diwali,” Priya says, before turning to the clearly-confused Sabrina. “The Bhai Dooj is where sisters pay tribute and generally fuss over their brothers, kinda like Mother’s Day of Father’s Day, but for brothers.”

“Do sisters get a day too?” Sabrina asks. “Because it’s not fair if only brothers get a day to themselves…”

“Too right it isn’t!” Suriya laughs, before turning to face Ashley. “And don’t you dare argue, Mr. ‘three younger sisters’!”

“Doubt my parents would agree to convert to Hinduism anyway,” Ashley says, bringing laughs from all of us.

“Why is Ash the only boy here, anyway?” Megan asks, giving Ashley a sly wink to let her know that she’s only calling her a ‘boy’ for Sabrina’s benefit. “Where’s Jordan?”

“Dumped him,” Nicole says matter-of-factly, eliciting gasps of shock from the other girls.

“What?” Harriet asks. “Why?”

“He’s such a BOY,” Nicole sighs. “Only interested in football, then he got in those two fights last term… I want a boy who’s a MAN, who’s sensitive, interested in GOOD things like dancing and drama…”

“Well you’re not having Ashley!” Suriya laughs, cuddling Ashley’s arm close to her.

“Or Phil!” I say, making Nicole giggle.

“Or Joey!” Megan laughs.

“Or Dean!” Priya says, making Nicole almost curl up in a laughing fit.

“No, no way!” Nicole laughs. “Though Harriet can have Jordan if she wants!”

“Ew, no thank you!” Harriet spits, making the girls laugh even more.

“Why haven’t you had a boyfriend yet?” Megan asks the flame-haired girl, who sighs in response. “You’re one of the popular kids, take advantage of it!”

“Ehh… Maybe some other time,” Harriet says. “In the meantime, topic change! Sabrina, when’s your ballet lessons?”

“Monday and Tuesday!” Sabrina giggles excitedly. “My Tuesday lesson will right before yours!” I giggle as Sabrina delights everyone with stories of her new adventures at ballet, but I can’t help but feel that Harriet’s hiding something by her refusal to talk about boys...

I stay for lunch at Nicole’s house but leave just before 4pm, my newly broken-in pointe shoes in tow and a happy, contented smile on my face as I climb back into mum’s car.

“Did you have fun?” Mum asks as we drive away.

“Yeah,” I say. “I’m a bit tired, though, it’s always a long say when we’re at Nicole’s…”

“Better get an early night then,” mum says. “Don’t want to be falling asleep during class tomorrow, especially as you have gymnastics AND your dance club!” I giggle as mum playfully chastises me.

“Oh,” mum continues. “I almost forgot- your brother’s package arrived today. He won’t be able to come back for your birthday, but the package feels nice and heavy! I’ve also spoken to your Grandma White, she WILL be able to come to your birthday next Sunday.”

“That’s cool,” I say with a smile. As much as he can irritate me, I’m genuinely disappointed that Rick won’t be there for my birthday, but I’ll at least have both grandmothers there, not to mention all my friends and, last but not least, my awesome boyfriend!

As I arrive home, I head up to my bedroom to grab my tablet computer, logging into Facebook in a hope of finding Phil online, only to see that not only is he offline, but he hasn’t logged in since early this morning- which is unusual as his family normally attend church on Sunday mornings. I decide to think nothing more of it, instead switching off my tablet, finishing off my homework and getting an early night as mum advised.

The following morning, I wake up and go through my morning routine, including brushing my shoulder-length hair into its usual bobbed style (the hair extensions I got over summer were removed before the first day of the school year), taking my ‘boy blocker’ and pulling on the familiar white blouse, thick grey tights and knee-length pleated grey skirt that make up my school uniform. This will be the last year I wear this particular uniform, as I’m reminded when I greet my friends at the school gate and catch sight of Priya in the straight grey skirt and black tights worn by the ‘upper school’, pupils in years 10 and 11. The one advantage of the straight skirt is that it can be rolled higher so it shows off more of your legs- assuming you have any length of leg to show off, of course, as I’m reminded when I see Nicole and Megan in their skirts, which are now noticeably shorter than knee-length.

My first class of the day is German, in which I work with Suriya and Megan (some of the classes in our year are now sorted by ability, rather than by form group, so I get to work with Megan a lot). After German, I giggle as I head to the girls’ toilets adjacent to the gymnasium where I meet with Nicole, Suriya and Harriet as the four of us change into our PE kits- Harriet into her usual t-shirt and shorts, Nicole, Suriya and I into our new school leotards, spangly purple ones with dark blue flashes across our chests and arms. Our PE teacher is still unhappy with Suriya, Nicole and Harriet changing with me, but after they received permission slips from their parents, they agreed to look the other way every lesson. Some of the other girls in the school’s gymnastics team have also provided permission slips from their parents, but there are still a few who are strongly against the very idea of someone who was not born a girl being treated as a girl by the school, no matter how clear I and the school make the ‘situation’. Because I was once a boy, in their eyes, I’ll never be a ‘real’ girl. The only real concessions I’ve received since starting two years ago are that I’m now allowed to join the school’s sports teams and I can use one specific set of girls toilets (the one I change in) freely at any time- but that really is it.

Fortunately, once I’m in class, my fellow pupils treat me with much more respect than their parents. My ‘fame’ from last summer may have faded slightly, but our gang is still one of the more popular ones in our year, even with boys- one of the boys who attacked me at the beginning of year 7 actually asked me out at the start of the school year- and it was VERY satisfying to not only turn him down, but to explain it was because I already had a boyfriend!

After gymnastics- during which we’re told that the team for the inter-school competition will be announced at gymnastics club on Wednesday- the four of us change out of our uniforms before heading to meet our friends at break. Normally, of course, we would keep our leotards on underneath our uniforms, but today that’s not an option as when the bell rings an hour later to signify the start of lunch, Nicole, Suriya and I head straight back to our ‘private changing room’ and change into a different leotard- a short-sleeved blue one- and a pair of tight booty shorts before heading back up to the gymnasium for dance club. After our forty-five minutes of rehearsal are over, however, one of my friends does something that shocks and surprises me.

“Excuse me?” Nicole says to our teacher as we prepare to head downstairs and get changed. “Miss Ellison?”

“Yes?” Miss Ellison says. “What is it, Nicole?”

“Umm, if it’s okay,” Nicole says hesitantly. “I’d- I’d kinda like to drop dance club, please?”

“What?” I blurt. “Why?”

“Laura,” Miss Ellison says in a cautionary tone, silencing me. “Obviously this is your decision, Nicole, but I would like to know why, and I’m sure you know that it’ll hurt your chances of getting onto the cheerleading team next year.”

“I just want to concentrate more on acting,” Nicole explains. “And I just got my pointe shoes… I’d prefer to do just one type of dance at a time.”

“Well, okay,” Miss Ellison says. “It’s your decision, I can’t force you to come to the club, but if you do leave, you won’t be allowed to change your mind later on.”

“I understand,” Nicole says, smiling as we head downstairs to get changed.

“Really?” Suriya asks as we pull our skirts back on over our leotards. “I thought you loved dance club?”

“Yeah,” I concur. “You were great in the assembly at the end of last year, AND you told me you always wanted to be a cheerleader…”

“I’ve just got a lot on my plate, that’s all,” Nicole explains. “Between this, ballet, drama, gymnastics… Dance club was the thing I enjoyed least and was least good at, so I got rid of it!”

“Are you dropping anything else as well, like gymnastics?” Suriya asks.

“Noooo, no no no,” Nicole giggles. “Not when there are still medals and trophies to be won from it! Besides, you should be happy, it means I won’t need this-“ Nicole playfully stretches the shiny fabric of her leotard- “anymore, so Ashley can have it!”

“That really sucked that they wouldn’t let Ash join the club,” I say as I brush out my hair, which became tangled during my dancing. “I mean, she’s as good a dancer as any of us…”

“When SHE decides to tell her parents, then SHE can join the club,” Suriya says, an air of frustration creeping into her voice.

“…Is everything okay with you and Ash?” Nicole asks.

“…No,” Suriya sighs. “She- she just frustrates me, the way she refuses to tell her parents… I know it’s wrong to say this, but I wish he- she- whatever, I wish Ash would just grow a pair…” Nicole and I nod resignedly as we finish pulling our uniforms on, grab our bags and head to our final lesson of the day, only to run into an unexpected figure immediately as we leave the toilets.

“Hi Ash!” Suriya squeaks as she sees her boyfriend, immediately grabbing her arm and giving it a tight cuddle.

“Hey!” A nearby teacher yells. “Stop that!” Suriya and Ashley both blush as the Indian girl releases the blonde ‘boy’s arm, and I can’t help but giggle internally at how Suriya instantly went from frustrated about Ashley and talking behind her back to her usual giggly, excited self the second she saw her. Then again, it’s not like I haven’t done the exact same thing with Phil…

“Did you girls have a good lunch?” Ashley asks with a sad tone to her voice.

“It would’ve been better with you there,” I say.

“MY boyfriend!” Suriya playfully chastises me. “Hands off!”

“You know what I mean,” I giggle.

“Still though,” Nicole says, “I’m going to be leaving the dance club effective immediately, so that means there IS a leotard that will be going spare…”

“Oh my god, thanks!” Ashley laughs.

“I’ll get mum to wash it, then I’ll bring it in on Thursday,” Nicole laughs, before the four of us head our separate ways to our final class of the day. By the time the bell rings to signify the end of the day I am utterly exhausted, but my day isn’t over yet as I’m reminded when I climb into mum’s car and immediately head to the counsellor’s office that’s become like a second home to me over the past two years.

“Hello Laura!” Dr Williamson says as mum and I enter her office, sitting down in her plush chairs. “Did you have a good day at school?”

“I had a tiring one,” I sigh. “Had PE today, and dance club…”

“I hope you’re not pushing yourself TOO hard,” Dr Williamson advises. “I know you enjoy your dancing and your performing arts, but it was pushing yourself too hard that saw you end up in hospital earlier in the year… On that topic, how is your appetite doing?”

“Recovering,” I say.

“Laura still doesn’t eat a lot,” mum interjects. “But her weight is slowly increasing despite the exercise that she also gets from dance and gymnastics.”

“My friend Nicole actually dropped dance club today,” I say. “I’ve… I’ve thought about doing the same, but I enjoy all my, you know, extra-curricular activities too much. Every time I pull on a leotard and go dancing or do gymnastics, it- it…”

“It helps you to feel more feminine?” Dr Williamson asks, making me nod.

“I know it sounds silly,” I sigh. “I mean, I’m wearing a skirt, I have a boyfriend, virtually everyone accepts me as a girl…”

“It’s not silly, not at all,” the counsellor. “And before you inevitably bring it up, yes, I recognise that not having oestrogen is part of this urge you have.”

“You said you’d review it by my fourteenth birthday,” I say. “This is our last session before my birthday.”

“Laura!” Mum snaps upon hearing my confrontational tone.

“I did indeed say that,” Dr Williamson concedes. “But I still have some concerns.” Mum gives me another stern look as I groan in frustration.

“Your appetite is my main concern,” Dr Williamson continues. “This ‘urge’ to join the most feminine clubs and teams available is another one, albeit very minor as you do seem to be dedicating yourself to working hard at them, rather than just ‘wearing the uniform and pretending’ as some girls in your situation end up doing. I saw from your Instagram that you got your pointe shoes at the weekend, for example.”

“Yeah,” I say. “And I’m not THAT underweight, only a couple of pounds for my height…”

I AM proud of your progress, Laura,” Dr Williamson says. “But there is more than can be done. Have you brought your food diary?”

“Yep,” I say, taking the small notebook out of my bag and handing it over to the middle-aged woman, who examines it for the next few minutes, before revisiting several techniques I’ve learned in recent weeks to help me every time I feel the need to ‘purge’ my body of food or restrict the amount I eat. It obviously works, as my stomach is growling with hunger by the time I prepare to leave the office. Before I follow mum down to her car, though, I pause.

“Mum,” I say cautiously, “I’ll see you down in reception, okay?”

“Okay,” mum says, clearly worried about why I’d want to talk to Dr Williamson without her present. “Why- why, exactly?”

“It’s just a quick thing, won’t take thirty seconds,” I say. “It’s… It’s not about me, it’s kinda private…”

“Okay, if you insist,” mum says, her worry replaced by unhappiness that I’d keep something from her.

“What it is, Laura?” Dr Williamson asks once mum is gone. “Is it about one of your friends?”

“Yes,” I say. “It’s about my friend Ashley, who’s in the school year below me.”

“Is Ashley a boy or a girl?” Dr Williamson asks.

“Well, um, ‘yes’, I suppose,” I chuckle. “She’s in the same situation as me, born male but wants to be female… She’s one of the girls for sure, but her parents don’t even know about her… I reckon she’d benefit from speaking to you.”

“She would need to be referred by her GP first,” Dr Williamson says. “Advise your friend to get booked in for an appointment, then she can get regular appointments with me or one of the other counsellors here. In the meantime, it’s important that she tells her parents as soon as possible, and that’s something YOU can help with.”

“Um, how?” I ask.

“Just be there for your friend,” Dr Williamson says. “Share your experiences, such as your coming out to your grandmother and to your brother, your first day at school, making friends as a girl, feel free to share any of the techniques we’ve discussed in our discussions. Make sure she knows that she isn’t alone, and will always have support.”

“Can do,” I say with a smile.

“I think this could be good for you as well,” Dr Williamson says. “You’ve spoken about the help you’ve got from Nikki Thomas, the way she’s occasionally ‘mentored’ you. Normally I’d be reluctant to assign you as a ‘mentor’ to another transgendered girl until we’ve resolved your own issues first, but as you’re already friends with this Ashley, I reckon it can help you see things from an alternative perspective.”

“Thanks,” I giggle, before bidding my counsellor farewell and heading home with mum. After eating (and finishing) dinner, I finish off my homework before heading to bed, waking up the following morning with a smile on my face that remains as I stroll up to the school gate, the gentle wind making my skirt fluttering around my nylon-covered legs.

In this school year, our drama club meets during Tuesday lunchtime, so after our third lesson of the day, I head there along with Nicole, Suriya, Harriet and Ashley, where we’re handed out copies of the latest revision of our script. As promised, this year, we’re rehearsing for Romeo and Juliet, only it’s going to be with a modern ‘twist’ in that instead of being members of rival gangs, ‘our’ Romeo and Juliet will be members of rival schools caught up in an inter-school rivalry. It’s also going to be only for pupils from years 7-9 (the older kids will have a play of their own), meaning all the main roles will be played by people in my year… And yes, I have already put my name down for playing Juliet!

“Do you suppose the ‘Romeo’ in this story is named after Romeo Beckham?” Suriya giggles as we read our scripts.

“Now HE is cute,” Nicole says. “Reckon he’d be interested in a tall, slender actress, gymnast and dancer with long brown hair?”

“Assuming he wouldn’t prefer a cute, freckled ginger-haired girl!” Suriya teases Harriet as the flame-girl blushes.

“Assuming the cute, freckled ginger girl would even be interested in him!” Harriet snorts.

“Romeo Beckham, Romeo Beckham, wherefore art thou, Romeo Beckham?” I say, making everyone laugh before we get down to the serious business of rehearsing for the play.

“You know,” Harriet muses. “For a supposed romantic play, there really aren’t that many roles for girls, there Juliet, her guardian… That’s about it, really.”

“I take it everyone’s auditioning for Juliet?” Nicole asks.

“Of course!” I giggle. “Especially as Phil is auditioning for Romeo!”

“Phil Brooks, Phil Brooks, wherefore art thou, Phil Brooks?” Harriet teases, before mock-fainting in mine and Nicole’s arms.

“It’d be so appropriate too,” Nicole sighs happily. “A girl from one school and a boy from the other, just like in the play…”

“…I might audition for Romeo,” Ashley says.

“Umm, I think they want year nines only for the lead roles,” Nicole says, lowering Ashley’s smile.

“Oh whatever,” Suriya snorts, cuddling Ashley’s arm. “If you’re good enough, you’re old enough!”

“Just… Don’t get your hopes up TOO high!” Nicole chuckles.

“Same goes for you, wannabe Juliet!” I tease, making the five of us all giggle as we head to our last lesson of the day.

After school, as always, I head home and eat dinner, but I feel a tremble of excitement after I finish eating as I head upstairs and strip off my uniform, exchanging my panties for one of my thongs before pulling on a pair of soft pink tights and my favourite black tank leotard. After tying my hair back and securing it with hairpins, I grab my dance bag- containing my new, precious pointe shoes- and head downstairs to mum’s car, which ferries me to the dance studio which has quickly become another ‘second home’ to me.

“Hey ballerina buddy!” Nicole squeaks, giving me a quick hug. “Excited about your first pointe lesson?”

“Not as excited as you obviously are!” I giggle as the brown-haired girl literally bounces up and down, before launching herself at Megan as the other brown-haired girl arrives at the studio.

“Hey ballerina buddy!” Nicole squeaks to Megan.

“Hey, ballerinicole!” Megan laughs as she adjusts her leotard.

“Sooo…” Nicole teases. “Did you get your ‘box’ tonight?”

“No, not tonight,” Megan sighs, before briefly glancing in my direction.

“No, it’s okay, I don’t mind,” I laugh. “Though you’d better not let the boys hear us talking about ‘boxes’…”

“Hehe, Laura! You’re so rude!” Nicole giggles as Megan also nearly collapses in a fit of giggles. The ‘box’ Megan and Nicole are actually referring to is a new product being launched by the Angels (the modelling clique our dance teacher and my boyfriend’s sister belong to). For £15 a month, they send you a box full of various cosmetics, fashion & beauty products, each of which is personally approved by one or more members of the ‘clique’. Nicole was one of the first subscribers, as were Megan, Harriet and Priya and Suriya (who share their box). I, on the other hand, am not a subscriber. My mum doesn’t nearly as much as Nicole’s or Suriya’s parents, and between my acting, my gymnastics and my ballet, I’m stretching my her finances pretty thin. I did ask for the box, of course, and sulked for a whole evening when I was told no, but I quickly got over it by remember some of Dr Williamson’s advice- I’m inevitably going to face disappointment in my life, and compared to what I’ve gone through in the past two years, not getting a box full of cheap make-up once a month really isn’t that big a deal… Especially when there are others, like Ashley, who don’t have anything at all.

“Hey girls!” Miss Fullerton says. “Did I hear you talking about ‘boxes’?”

“Yeah,” Nicole says. “We haven’t got ours yet…”

“Eh, I’m sure it’ll come,” Miss Fullerton says. “I know for a fact they were sent out last Friday! In the meantime, you DO all have the boxes in your brand-new, broken-in shiny pointe shoes, right?”

“Of course!” I giggle as the three of us produce our special footwear for our teacher to inspect.

“Ooh,” Miss Fullerton coos. “Nice stitching, all three of you! Though the shoes will look better once they’re on your feet!” The four of us all giggle as we wait for the arrival of the other three girls, and once they arrive (and Miss Fullerton has had a chance to compliment their needlework) our teacher takes us to one side to explain what will happen in the lesson.

“As you girls are new to pointe shoes,” Miss Fullerton explains, “I’ll be working with you for most of the night. You won’t be actually dancing in the shoes yet, not until you’ve had enough lessons to get used to them, and that’ll be sometime around the New Year. You’ll just be doing exercises for now to strengthen your feet and leg muscles. I need to stress again: DO NOT attempt to dance, or even walk in these shoes without my permission and supervision. I’ve seen the photos you all put on Instagram, and that’s okay as long as it’s a one-off, but these shoes are NOT toys, and there is a very real chance that you can hurt yourself if you push yourself too hard too fast or, even worse, mess around in the shoes. I need to make sure that you all understand this, okay?”

“Yes, Miss Fullerton,” the six of us say in unison, bringing a smile to the tall woman’s face.

“Great!” Miss Fullerton beams. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to the other ballerinas!” The six of us smile as we enter the studio, and already it’s a very different atmosphere than what we’re used to in the beginner or intermediate classes- there are about fifteen other girls who are aged between thirteen and seventeen, all of whom are wearing the same black leotards and pink tights as me and my friends and have their hair scraped back into severe, tight buns. And the girls are BEAUTIFUL- tall, slender and elegant, each one immaculately made-up, even the younger teenagers… Even though I want more than anything to be a part of this group, I immediately feel out of place with my 4’ 11” pre-pubescent body.

I take a deep breath and remember Dr Williamson’s words of wisdom as I step into the studio- I’m surrounded by friends, the best friends I- or any girl- have ever had. Even though they’re taller than me, even though they are ‘genetically’ a girl, they’ll support me no matter what, just as I’ll always support them. And indeed, as the lesson passes the halfway mark and we pull on our pointe shoes for the first ‘real’ time, I’ve completely forgotten all about my anxieties, especially as I rise en pointe for the first time as Miss Fullerton (aided by two very friendly older teenagers named Georgie and Brooke) corrects our posture. By the end of the lesson, even though my feet are aching and my toes are sore, I find myself desperate for just a few more minutes of dancing- though I heed Miss Fullerton’s earlier caution and- after posing for a photo en pointe with Megan, Nicole, Harriet, Priya and Suriya- I remove my pointe shoes, stretching and cooling down my toes before pulling my flats back on.

“So, girls,” Miss Fullerton giggles. “Regretting the ballerina life yet?”

“Not a second of it!” Megan laughs as she pulls her own flats back on. “I SO wish I’d started earlier, I’d love to do this professionally…”

“The class puts on performances all the time,” Miss Fullerton says. “Maybe not EXACTLY professional quality, but once you’re up to speed you’ll all be welcome to audition for parts. Or rather, encouraged to audition!” The six of us giggle as Miss Fullerton starts to head to her office, but I manage to intercept her before she enters.

“What’s up, Laura?” Miss Fullerton asks. “Are you having a problem with your shoes that you don’t want the other girls to know about? Because you looked REALLY good out there, I’ve taught other transgendered girls and just like them you can’t tell the difference…”

“I’M okay,” I say. “It… It’s Ashley.”

“Ah, you’re missing him,” Miss Fullerton laughs. “He’ll be in this class soon enough, he’s really devoted to his ballet…”

“He’s, um,” I say hesitantly, wary about ‘stepping on Ashley’s toes’, “he’s sort-of asked me to ask you if he could… Maybe… Take pointe lessons?”

“Huh,” Miss Fullerton says, clearly surprised by the news. “Well, it’s unusual but hardly unheard of for boys to do pointe, I’m sure I could teach him… I’ll talk it over with him tomorrow. Thanks for letting me know, Laura. See you on Friday!”

“See you Friday!” I giggle, before heading outside and climbing into Priya & Suriya’s father’s car to be driven home, where I immediately head upstairs to switch on my tablet computer. I grin as I login to Facebook and see the name at the top of the ‘online’ list.

‘Hey Phil xxxx,’ I type to my boyfriend.

‘Hey Laura xxxx,’ Phil instantly replies. ‘How was ballet?’

‘It was so awesome,’ I reply. ‘Miss F took some photos, I’ll forward them to you once they’re uploaded x.’

‘Cool,’ Phil types with a smiling emoji.

‘What time you coming over on Sunday for my b-day?’ I type.

‘Not sure yet, will have to check with my dad,’ Phil types.

‘You’d better have got me something nice,’ I type with an evil grin on my face. ‘Something I enjoy as much as you enjoyed my present last month!’

‘I still liked the voucher for 100 free kisses best,’ Phil types, to which I reply with a winking emoji. ‘Can’t stay online long, dad’s yelling at me to finish my homework.’

‘Poor you,’ I type with a frowning emoji. ‘I haven’t even talked to my mum since I got home, lol. Talk soon xxxx.’

‘See you babe xxxx,’ Phil types before logging out. After switching off my tablet, I head downstairs to be confronted by a VERY disapproving stare from my mother.

“It would’ve been nice if you’d said ‘hi’ before immediately going upstairs and chatting with your friends on Facebook,” mum sighs.

“’Hi’,” I say. “And I wasn’t talking to friends, I was talking to my boyfriend…”

“Ah, even better,” mum says sarcastically. “What time’s he coming over on Sunday?”

“He’s gonna check with my dad and let me know,” I say.

“Okay,” mum says, nodding her head as the smile slowly returns to her face. “More importantly, how was ballet?”

“It was a-ma-zing!” I giggle. “Even if my feet are kinda sore now…”

“Well, better get used to that, Darcey Bussell!” Mum says, making me laugh happily. I spend the rest of the night finishing homework, not stripping off my ballet uniform despite mum’s protests that she needs to wash it ahead of my second lesson of the week on Friday. I go to bed with a wide grin on my face, which is even wider when I wake up on Wednesday and head to school, wearing a thong underneath my uniform due to it being gymnastics club this afternoon.

As I stretch my long-sleeved leotard over my body in my ‘private changing room’, I sigh happily, especially as I turn my head to see Nicole and Suriya either side of me changing into their leotards. The sound of four more members of the gymnastics team stood behind me, also changing into their leotards, makes me almost indescribably happy and content.

“Okay, come on!” Chloe- a tiny year 11 girl who’s the captain of the gymnastics team- says once she’s tied her long brown hair back with a sparkly scrunchie. “Mrs. Hall’s announcing the squad for the inter-school competition today!” The seven of us in the ‘private changing room’ all giggle as we head up to the gymnasium, where we begin practising our routines. My specialisation is rhythmic gymnastics, my favourite discipline being with the ribbon, and after I demonstrate my routine for the rest of the class I receive a standing ovation from all of my leotard-clad teammates.

“Brilliant, Laura,” Mrs. Hall says. “Okay, Nicole, you’re next.” I take a seat, giggling at the feel of the cold wooden floor against my bare thighs, as Nicole performs her routine. Whilst last year, Nicole did rhythmic gymnastics like myself and Suriya, this year, for some reason, she’s switched to artistic gymnastics and is performing a floor routine with twists, turns and tumbles, and whilst she’s very good at it, even I can see she’s not quite a match for the year 10 and 11 girls, and as the age categories are split into ‘under 13’ and ‘under 16’, it’s that age group against whom Nicole will be competing for a place on the team. Nonetheless, all the girls (myself included, of course) give the brown-haired girl a standing ovation at the completion of her routine.

“Okay,” Mrs. Hall says after the applause dies down. “I’ll announce the under 13 team next week after they’ve had a chance to audition, but I’ll tell you the under-16 team now. Artistic- Vault: Sophie. Artistic- Uneven bars and Balance beam: Daphne. Artistic- Floor: Naomi. Rhythmic- Ball and Hoop: Jodie. Rhythmic- Ribbon: Laura. Rhythmic- clubs: Sally-Jo. Rhythmic- Team: Jodie, Laura and Suriya. Well done to everyone who made the team, and to those who didn’t: don’t give up, work hard and improve and I’m sure you’ll get a chance next time.” I gasp as my name is called for not one, but two events- yet another sign of the faith the school has in me not just as a girl, but as a representative of the school. A quick look to my left, however, tells me that one of my friends isn’t at all happy about the announcements.

“I’m sure you’ll get in the team for the summer competition,” I say to Nicole, who simply grins and shrugs off the rejection.

“It was always going to be hard switching from one to another,” Nicole sighs as we head down to the ‘private changing room’. “We can’t all be short like you two!” I force myself to keep smiling, despite Nicole somehow turning her rejection into a dig at my lack of ‘development’.

“Hey you two!” Jodie- a girl in the year above and mine and Suriya’s new teammate- suddenly squeaks as she gives myself and the small Indian girl a quick hug. “This is gonna be so cool, you two are so talented at gymnastics! Even if I DID want the ribbon competition as well…”

“Sorry,” I say with a sarcastic shrug, making Jodie and Suriya giggle.

“Oh, I guess I’m gonna have to be even more polite to your sister now,” Jodie says to Suriya. “She’s in most of my classes…”

“Don’t bother, I’m never polite to her!” Suriya says, making the older girl snort with laughter.

“Even in my year, you girls are seen as ‘the cool ones’,” Jodie says, making me glow internally with pride.

“Now that you’re on our ‘team’, you can hang out with us if you want,” I say as I pull my skirt and my tights back on over my leotard.

“Aww, thanks!” Jodie giggles. “May have to take you up on that offer, especially as we have practice we need to do!” Suriya and I both smile as Jodie finished changing and heads off to her final lesson of the day, whilst Suriya, Nicole and I head to ours.

Once our school day is finished, I head out to my mum’s car as usual, but as today is Wednesday, I don’t go home alone. As with year 8, I save one night a week to spend with Megan- my closest friend- and in year 9, that night is tonight. As the tall, long-haired girl sits down next to me on the back seat of mum’s car, I can’t help but be continually amazed by her transformation.

I first met Megan at the start of junior school six years ago. I was an awkward seven year old boy who didn’t understand why the girls were reluctant to play with me, and Megan was the awkward seven year old girl with long, bushy hair, thick glasses and who was (as bad as it is for me to say) slightly overweight. Obviously, we quickly became friends, the ‘outcasts’ that the popular kids ignored, and we both felt comfortable in that role, though we did get a few more friends before we left primary school. Even at the start of secondary school, we settled into the role of ‘outcasts’- though that was obviously more due to me than anything Megan- or any of our other gang- did.

Then, after the start of year 8 and my ‘rise to fame’, things changed. Our gang went from being the ‘losers’ to some of the most popular kids in the whole school. Suddenly, I- the transgendered girl- and Megan- who was still bushy-haired, bespectacled and a little overweight- were getting smiles from the other kids instead of sneers. Whilst it felt awkward at first, we both gradually grew very comfortable with our popularity. My hair started to grow back, I experimented more with fashion and make-up and, most significantly, I got a boyfriend. Whilst Megan was concerned at first with my ‘change’, she soon embraced the change too- her hair grew more ‘styled’ and less ‘wild’, she started to wear more make-up, her glasses changed from cheap frames to designer ones, she grew taller and more slender, and she also got a boyfriend- though it took a LOT of persistence from Joey and a lot of persuasion from her friends before Megan finally agreed to go out with him! The difference between the shy, awkward girl from the start of year 8 and the cool, confident girl now, at the start of year 9, is remarkable- and one mum always comments on every Wednesday night after Megan’s mother comes to pick her up.

After a quick dinner (which I make a point of finishing every bite of), the two of us head up to my bedroom to do our homework, though the instant my door is shut, we instantly forget about homework and fall into a gossip session.

“Oh my god,” Megan gasps. “That was SO cool at ballet last night!”

“I know!” I squeak excitedly. “Especially you, miss extra-taller ballerina! Can you believe that two years ago, I actually had to try to persuade you to join the class?”

“I’m so glad you did,” Megan giggles. “My feet are KILLING me, though…”

“Tell me about it,” I say, removing my shoes and my tights and flexing my sore toes. “You know, neither of us have PE tomorrow or Friday…” Megan giggles excitedly and removes her own shoes and tights as I take a wad of cotton wool and a bottle of dark blue nail polish from my dressing table, and we spend the next twenty minutes carefully painting each other’s toenails.

“I can’t believe Nicole didn’t get on the gymnastics team,” I sigh. “Has she seemed a little ‘off’ to you lately?”

“Maybe a little,” Megan shrugs. “Can’t believe she didn’t tell us about Jordan, that boy was absolutely devoted to her. As he should be, of course…”

“As devoted as Joey is to you?” I ask, making Megan giggle.

“Maybe not,” Megan laughs. “Or as devoted as Phil is to you!”

“Ugh, whenever I talk to him,” I sigh.

“Well he’s at a different school,” Megan says. “It’s not like you get to see him day in, day out like I do with Joey…”

“Yeah, I guess,” I say. “He could still make more of an effort, though. At least I’ll get to see him tomorrow at rehearsals!”

“Aww, the real-life Romeo and Juliet,” Megan teases. “Do you get to do an on-stage kiss?”

“Maybe,” I say coyly, making Megan gasp and giggle.

“Oh, that is going to be SO cool,” Megan sighs. “Assuming you get Juliet and Phil gets Romeo, of course…”

“Why d’you think I’m growing my nails?” I ask. “Any girl other than me gets to kiss Phil, I’ll claw their eyes out…”

“Hehe, you go girl!” Megan laughs as we finish our nails and pull our tights back on. Megan leaves about an hour later after doing a little bit of homework, leaving me by myself. I switch my tablet computer on and login to Facebook hoping to catch Phil online, only to find that his status is set to ‘unavailable’. I leave him a quick message anyway- with a whole string of ‘x’s on the end, of course- before switching off my tablet and getting ready for bed. As I sleep, though, the smile I’ve worn over the past two days starts to fade. My talk with Megan has highlighted one thing- I put a hell of a lot more into my relationship with Phil than he does…

Nonetheless, I still have a smile on my face when I meet my six friends at the school gate on Thursday morning, and as we sit around our usual table for lunch. Between dance club on Monday, drama on Tuesday and gymnastics yesterday, we don’t get a lot of opportunities for all seven of us to hang out, so we always make sure to make the most of what time we do get.

“What time do you want us to come over on Sunday, Miss soon-to-be-fourteen?” Harriet asks me, making me blush shyly.

“Any time after 11’s fine,” I say. “Sucks that it’s a Sunday so we can’t stay up late…”

“We’ll just have to make the most of it, then!” Priya giggles. “Pity you couldn’t come over for the Diwali celebrations last night, the fireworks were so beautiful…”

“Maybe next year,” Nicole says. “Sooo… Who got their boxes last night?”

“Me!” Suriya laughs. “Dad nearly threw a fit when I went to the firework display wearing glittery silver eye shadow as well as my sari!”

“You mean ‘us’,” Priya chastises her younger sister. “You owe me for that eye shadow!” I force a smile on my face as the girls all discuss the treats they got through the post yesterday, even though I know I’m not going to be receiving said treats anytime soon. As we leave the dinner table though, my feeling sorry for myself about the box eases slightly as Suriya and I walk to our next class alongside Ashley- who must feel at least a hundred times worse than I do right now.

“Hey Ash,” I say. “You were quiet during lunch…”

“So were you, and it’s your birthday on Sunday!” Ashley retorts, making Suriya and I both giggle.

“Yeah,” Suriya says. “Is- is it about the box?”

“Yeah- no- ugh, maybe a little…” I sigh. “I know it sounds lame…”

“No, not at all,” Suriya says softly. “Sometimes I forget how well off my family is…”

“I mean it sounds lame,” I say, “because of how well off I am next to, you know…”

“Next to me,” Ashley sighs. “It’s okay, I don’t mind…”

“You SHOULD mind,” I say. “For me it’s just a stupid box, for you, it’s your whole life…”

“Less of the ‘stupid’ when describing the box, please!” Suriya says, making all three of us giggle as we head to our final classes of the day. After the bell rings to signify the end of the school day, Suriya, Nicole, Harriet, Ashley and I all pile into the back of Mr. Malik’s people carrier (Priya gets a lift home from her mum), and soon we’re outside the school where we’ll be rehearsing for this year’s play- and more importantly, the school attended by my boyfriend!

“Hey boo,” I say as I approach Phil from behind and playfully cover his eyes with my hands.

“Hey, Laura,” Phil says, giving me a quick, awkward kiss whilst nobody’s looking. I can kinda understand his awkwardness- I look young for my age, whilst he and his 5’ 8” body look older than his fourteen years- but it’s still a bit frustrating when Phil acts like this around me.

“Put your name down for Romeo yet, Romeo?” I giggle, making Phil chuckle awkwardly.

“Umm, yeah…” Phil says, scratching his head and grimacing. “Laura… There’s- there’s something I kinda need to say…”

“What is it?” I ask, only for the two of us to be suddenly interrupted.

“Hey guys!” Nicole squeaks happily, before turning to Phil. “Hey boo!” I watch on in horror as Nicole leans into my boyfriend- MY boyfriend- and gives him a long, soft kiss on his lips.

“What the hell are you doing!?” I squeak, inadvertently drawing attention to our corner of the room.

“Laura…” Phil stutters. “I, um, I think we shouldn’t see each other anymore…”

“Is this a joke?” I screech.

“Laura?” Harriet asks. “Wh-what’s happening?” I open my mouth to talk, but can only babble incoherently, my emotions scrambling even further as Nicole links her fingers with my now ex-boyfriend’s and rolls her eyes at me.

“Oh- get over yourself,” Nicole sighs. “Jordan’s free, you’re welcome to him if you want…”

“You…” Harriet snarls in a tone far angrier than I’ve ever heard anyone use.

“Laura,” Phil stammers as he wilts under Harriet’s glare. “I- I wanted to wait until I could talk to you face to face, I didn’t want to, you know, um, by text or Facebook…”

“Oh, and that makes it so much better does it?” Harriet sneers in a sarcastic tone. “Don’t take a single step closer to me or Laura, or I’ll rip off your balls and scratch out your eyes!”

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Easton angrily asks as tears begin to stream down my face. My boyfriend and my best friend… How could they? How DARE they? “Laura, are you alright?” All I manage to do is shake my head as Harriet places a comforting arm around my shoulders and leads me out of the large hall and into the nearby girl’s toilets, where I break down in floods of tears.

“Why?” I whine as Harriet keeps me supplied with tissues. “Why did they do this?”

“Because he’s a stupid boy and she’s a selfish bitch,” Harriet sneers.

“But Nicole!” I moan. “Of all people…”

“I am SO glad I have zero interest in boys,” Harriet says as I take several deep breaths. As my mind calms down, however, my stomach doesn’t, and I loudly retch, startling Harriet.

“Oh god, Laura…” Harriet moans. “No, please no, please try to keep it down…” Despite my friend’s pleas, my stomach creases once again and I rush into the nearest toilet cubicle, loudly vomiting into the bowl.

“I’m sorry,” I weakly as I wipe my mouth.

“Please tell me this isn’t happening again…” Harriet whines. “I don’t want to have to watch you get driven away in an ambulance again…”

“I’m okay,” I whisper. “I’m- I’m not going to throw up again…”

“I’m calling your mum,” Harriet announces, taking her phone out of her bag.

“No,” I whisper, my body suddenly gripped by panic. If mum finds out that I’ve been sick…

“She needs to know,” Harriet says. “About the break-up, if not the throw-up… Do you really want to stay here?” I open my mouth to answer, but am soon interrupted by a third person entering the ‘facilities’.

“Hey Laura,” Suriya says quietly. “Mr. Easton sent me in to see how you are… They’re about to start rehearsals, um, he says that if you don’t rehearse today, you won’t get the role of Juliet…”

“How is that fair?” Harriet spits. “Laura’s obviously unwell!”

“Still, that’s what he said,” Suriya grimaces.

“…I just want to go home,” I moan, “Nicole can have Juliet, I don’t care anymore…”

“Okay,” Suriya whispers, clearly as worried as Harriet is.

“I’m going to go with you,” Harriet says firmly.

“…That might cost you a part in the play as well,” Suriya whispers.

“I don’t care,” Harriet says. “If I even SEE Nicole I’ll claw her eyes out…” I sigh and sit down on the toilet as Harriet presses one of the speed dial numbers on her phone.

“Hi,” Harriet says into her phone. “Is that Mrs. White? Hi, it’s Harriet Cooper, Laura’s friend… She’s feeling a little unwell, can you come and pick her up? …Yes, yes she has, but only once.” I grimace as Harriet pauses- obviously mum just asked if I was sick, and even though I never vomited THAT much when I was struggling with bulimia, even once is too many times…

Twenty minutes later, mum arrives and immediately wraps me in a tight, loving hug as Harriet watches on, Suriya having long since returned to rehearsals.

“Are you okay? What’s happened?” Mum asks.

“It- it’s Phil,” I sniffle. “He dumped me… he dumped me for Nicole!” I sob as mum sighs and gives me yet another hug- as recently as two months ago, this sort of contact would’ve had me squirming with memories of my ordeal at my father’s hands, but now, all I want to do is stay in the hug for as long as I can.

“Of all the ‘firsts’ I wanted to watch you have,” mum says, “’first broken heart’ was NOT on that list. How- how’s your stomach feeling?”

“It’s okay,” I half-lie.

“Can you face food?” Mum asks, before frowning and hugging me again as I shake my head. “You know you need to be careful about this, you can’t afford to be throwing up everywhere…”

“I only threw up once,” I say defensively. “I can eat tomorrow, I just- I just want to go home and go to bed…”

“Okay, okay,” mum says, leading me out to her car. “Thank you for calling, Harriet- you’re a good friend. Do you need a lift home?”

“Please,” Harriet says, climbing into the car next to me and watching over me as I cry all the way home. Even though it’s barely 7:30 by the time I arrive home, I immediately strip off my clothes and climb into bed, crying myself to sleep as the level of betrayal sinks in. Nicole was the first friend I ever made ‘as Laura’, she was the one who accepted me before anyone… How could she do this to me?

I wake up the following morning just after 6am with tears still slowly falling from my eyes, and I lay awake in bed until my alarm forces me to get up, even though I barely have enough energy to walk downstairs.

“Hey Laura,” mum says softly, giving me a gentle hug as I sit down at the kitchen table. “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” I sigh. “I- I really can’t face Nicole today, not after what she did…”

“I can’t imagine how that must feel,” mum sighs. “Your supposed best friend stealing your boyfriend…”

“It’s obviously been going on for a while, it didn’t ‘just happen’,” I sob. “That [b***h] has been lying to my face for weeks… How? How could she do this?” Mum sighs and gives me another hug as I once again break down in tears.

“Funny you’re only blaming Nicole,” mum muses. “Phil didn’t HAVE to, you know…”

“He was a useless boyfriend anyway,” I sigh. “Never came to see me in the Spring whilst I was, you know, ‘recovering’, never made any time for me…”

“And yet you’re still torn up over him,” mum sighs.

“I loved him,” I sob, breaking down in tears yet again. “He was the first guy I ever ‘liked’…”

“I know, I know,” mum sighs, giving me yet another hug. “Can you face some breakfast? Maybe a little toast?”

“…Maybe a little,” I mumble. “Mum, I- I really can’t face going into school today…”

“I’ll call in, tell them that you’re sick,” mum says. “But you’re going back on Monday no matter what, and I’m NOT calling in for you for any future break-ups, okay?”

“Okay,” I nod as the sweet-smelling toast is pushed underneath my face, and immediately I start to feel ill again. I force the toast down my throat, but once it’s in my stomach it feels like an entire extra-large pizza is churning around inside me. One thing I’d forgotten after last night was just how good it felt to have an empty stomach… And right now it’s taking all of my willpower to fight the urge to ‘empty’ myself.

After mum makes her phone call, I head to the sofa- still clad in just my nightie and my dressing gown- and huddle under the cushions as the strains of daytime TV flow in one ear and out the other as I slowly try to rationalise why Nicole- and Phil- would do what they did. Nicole’s always been ‘trendy’, even more obsessed with fashion and make-up than I am, so it’d make sense that she’d want to go out with the younger brother of a celebrity, and Phil’s grown increasingly uncomfortable with ‘us’ since he had his growth spurt and I haven’t... But for them to just thoughtlessly discard me, the way Nicole said ‘get over yourself’… REAL friends don’t ever do that to each other.

After a few hours of television, I’ve calmed down enough- or my brain has been sufficiently numbed by the TV- that I’ve stopped crying and am beginning to feel better. Shortly after breakfast, mum headed up to my room and handed me a large wad of notes I’ve made during my meetings with Dr Williamson, and they have been a great help in settling my mood and helping me see the whole situation rationally. One thing that was proven by Harriet’s actions last night is that my friends are going to stand by me- and, more importantly, against Nicole. I briefly consider cancelling my birthday party this coming Sunday, but that would probably do more harm than good- what I need to do now is surround myself with the people who really matter, not push them away.

Just after midday, a genuine smile returns to my face as a knock comes at the door and my grandmother (Grandma Clarke, my mother’s mother) comes into the house and gives me another long, tight hug.

“I hear someone got their heart broken by a stupid boy who isn’t nearly good enough for them, is this right?” Grandma asks, making me giggle and nod. “Well you just forget about that idiot. You’re only fourteen- well, almost fourteen- you’re too young for boys anyway!”

“I really, really liked him, though,” I sigh. “And he dum- he dumped me for my best friend… Well, one of them, anyway…”

“You don’t need friends like that,” grandma sneers, making me laugh even more. “You’ve still got plenty of REAL friends, haven’t you?”

“Yes,” I giggle.

“And I trust they’ll all be coming over on Sunday to help you celebrate your birthday?” Grandma asks.

“…Yes,” I say with a smile.

“Well then,” grandma says with a satisfied grin. “Seems like you’re in far too good a place to be laid on this sofa feeling sorry for yourself!” I laugh at grandma’s stern, but playful command, but sigh as I remember what else happened last night.

“I- I was kinda sick last night,” I say, noticeably darkening grandma’s mood.

“’Kinda’ sick?” Grandma asks.

“I threw up,” I whisper. “Because of the stress…”

“Well you don’t seem as stressed now,” grandma says. “You won’t be throwing up again, will you?”

“No,” I say, though in the few hours since I ate breakfast, if anything my stomach has felt fuller and fuller…

“Good,” grandma says. “I’m going to make sure that by the time I leave, you’ll feel bright and happy and ready to take on the world! First things first- you go and get dressed. And for god’s sake, put some make-up on! We don’t want the world thinking that you’re a boy now, do we?” I giggle as grandma playfully chastises me, and I immediately jump off the sofa, heading upstairs and- as ordered- applying a moderate layer of make-up, before painting my fingernails the same dark blue colour as my toenails. Once my make-up is done, I pull on a clean thong (it IS a ballet night, after all) followed by a training bra, a lacy vest, a pair of translucent tights, a short black skirt and a lilac jumper. After exchanging the gold studs in my earlobes for a pair of sparkling hoops and brushing out my hair, I look in the mirror and grin at the cute teenaged girl smiling back at me- though the only thing I can think of is ‘Phil doesn’t know what he’s missing’…

“What a beautiful young woman!” Grandma exclaims as I re-enter the living room. “Even if you are wearing too much make-up and your skirt is too short… I think I can ignore that just this one time!” I giggle as I sit down next to grandma and she fusses with my hair a little more.

“You really are beautiful, Laura,” mum says as grandma takes a brush from her handbag and starts brushing my hair.

“It’s a wonder you haven’t turned the head of every young man at your school!” Grandma says.

“Oh, our Laura has had more than her fair share of admirers,” mum giggles. “Didn’t you tell me that you get asked out every week by one boy after another?”

“Maybe not EVERY week,” I say.

“AND she’s in either the top or second set for every class she takes,” mum continues. “AND she’s in the dance squad, the gymnastics team, she’s an actress and a ballerina…”

“Sounds like any boy would give their right arm to be Laura’s boyfriend,” grandma comments. “NOT that you should immediately find another boy to go out with! And you must certainly must not get back together with that ‘Phil’ idiot if he decides he’s bored of your ex-friend a few months down the line!”

“No danger of that,” I say with a smile as grandma finishes brushing my hair. “I’m taking a long, long break from BOYS!”

“Good girl,” grandma laughs, before standing up. “I know exactly what Laura needs right now!”

“I’ve already got the ingredients laid out and ready,” mum says with a chuckle.

“…Ingredients?” I ask.

“For my patented pink pudding!” Grandma laughs. “Guaranteed to cure everything that’s wrong with you, including heartbreak!”

“What’s in this pudding?” I ask cautiously.

“Jelly, blancmange, strawberries, a little bit of chocolate… All the best things in the world!” Grandma says, beaming with pride.

“You’ve eaten it before, on your eighth birthday, remember?” Mum asks. “You loved it back then…” Yes, back when I WASN’T recovering from an obsession with my weight…

“I made it for your mother after she broke up with her first boyfriend,” grandma explains as she heads into the kitchen and starts mixing ingredients together. “Got to keep the family tradition alive, after all!”

“And to be fair, I was devastated for DAYS after I broke up with him,” mum laughs as she helps grandma mix the fattening-looking dessert. Not long later, I have a bowl of the sickening-looking dark pink confection shoved in front of my face and handed a spoon. I gulp slightly as mum and grandma look on expectantly, before plunging my spoon into the dessert, digging out a small blob and putting in my mouth. Grandma wasn’t lying when she said it was one of the best things in the world- I’ve never had much of a sweet tooth but it tastes amazing, like every piece of candy I’ve ever eaten all rolled into one… With all the calories of every piece of candy I’ve ever eaten all rolled into one. It takes me a while, but I finish the bowl and sit back on the sofa, my stomach feeling fuller than ever.

“There, now,” grandma says as she takes away my bowl. “Don’t you feel better?”

“A little,” I sigh as I adjust the waistband of my tights to try to ease the feeling of bloating.

“The sweetest dessert in the world for the sweetest girl in the world!” Mum laughs.

“I, um, I’m just going to go upstairs,” I say, earning concerned stares from mum and grandma. “I’m going to get my tablet… Going to remove Phil from my Facebook…”

“Okay,” mum says, her voice betraying the fact that she doesn’t fully believe me- and she may be right not to do so, as with every step I take up the stairs, my stomach churns more and more, and facing me when I reach the top of the stairs is our bathroom, and more importantly, our toilet.

The last seven months since I received my bulimia diagnosis have been hard, but I’ve been able to remain strong every time I got the urge to ‘purge’- and there have been more than just a few urges. Every time I felt the ‘urge’, I would do one of Dr Williamson’s relaxation techniques, or chat to my friends by phone or on Facebook… Or talk to Phil…

Over the months, the urges got less and less severe, but right now, with my heart ripped in two and my stomach the size of a beach ball, the urge to empty myself is almost uncontrollable. Choking back tears, I enter the bathroom and lock the door, before crouching down in front of the toilet. If I throw up once, it won’t count as a relapse, surely? And I was sick last night, I could always say it was a stomach bug or something…

I clench my ring and pinkie fingers on my right hand, keeping my index and middle fingers extended. With my hand shaking with fear, I place the two fingers on my tongue and slowly start sliding them back, whilst tears start to stream down my face…

“No,” I gasp, pulling my fingers out of my mouth and taking several deep breaths as I try to compose myself. “It’s just food, it’ll work its way through naturally, it’s just food, just food…” I lower the lid onto the toilet and flush it, before opening the bathroom door and gasping as I see mum and grandma staring at me with very disapproving looks on their faces.

“Please tell me you didn’t just do what I think you did,” mum says, her voice a hoarse whisper.

“I didn’t, I swear,” I plead.

“I wish I could believe you,” mum says, making my heart break once more. “Let me smell your breath.” I open my mouth and exhale into mum’s face, who breathes a sigh of relief and smiles.

“Strawberries,” mum says. “Doesn’t smell like vomit at all.” Grandma also breathes a sigh of relief at the news and smiles as I head into my bedroom, as promised, and emerge a few seconds later with my tablet computer. I shed a single tear as I scroll to Phil’s profile on Facebook and unceremoniously tap ‘delete’, before shedding even more tears as I scroll to Nicole’s to tap ‘delete’. Once I’ve unfriended her, though, I’m surprised to see that she and I share very few mutual friends- and a quick check shows that Nicole has also been removed from Harriet’s, Priya’s and Suriya’s friend lists. She’s still on Megan’s and Ashley’s friends lists, but I’m confident that she’ll be removed eventually, a confidence that’s strengthened when a knock comes on my door just after 3:30pm to reveal all five of my friends’ smiling faces.

“Hey Laura!” Megan squeaks happily. “We missed you at school today… Can we come in?”

“Mum?” I ask expectantly.

“Oh, go on,” mum laughs, making Megan, Harriet, Priya, Suriya and Ashley all cheer as they pile into the house, which also makes grandma laugh.

“Hello Mrs. Clarke,” Priya says.

“Hello girls and boy,” grandma says, before turning to Ashley. “Lucky you, hanging out with five friendly, good-looking girls at your age!”

“Thanks,” Ashley laughs nervously.

“I’ll take this as my cue to leave,” grandma chuckles. “Don’t want your old grandmother getting in the way… You’ve Sunday to look forward to for that!”

“Heh, see you, grandma,” I say, giving the older woman another quick hug as she leaves.

“Your grandmother’s so cool,” Suriya says.

“Yeah, she is,” I say, before taking a deep, awkward breath. “What did I miss at school today?”

“Nicole being told where she can shove it!” Harriet says with an almost evil-sounding laugh.

“Seriously,” Suriya sighs. “She honestly thought it was no big deal, thought we’d just carry on as usual.”

“I- I just… Thanks,” I say, triggering a group hug. “You’re the cool ones, all five of you.”

“Nicole’s eyes are intact though, aren’t they?” I ask, making Harriet giggle.

“It was a close thing, but yes,” the ginger-haired girl laughs. “I’m sure a month or two of sitting by herself at lunch will make her apologise… God knows it worked for me…”

“I hope so,” I say. “I liked her… She’s welcome to Phil though, the dirty little rat…”

“Yeah,” Harriet laughs. “Boys suck!”

“No offence, Ashley,” Megan giggles.

“None taken,” Ashley laughs, before checking to see that he’s alone. “Because I’m not a boy!”

“Damn right,” I say with a supportive smile.

“And,” Megan announces in a grand voice, “we may have brought you something, sort-of an early birthday present…” I gasp happily as Megan pulls a pink cardboard box out of her school bag, a box I instantly recognise as the Angels’ mystery box.

“Oh my god!” I squeak. “For me!?!?”

“We’ve kinda each put in one item we didn’t want,” Priya says. “So it’s not a full box, but it is a box, and it is a mystery what’s in it!”

“This is so cool, you didn’t have to do this…” I sigh happily.

“Just open it!” Suriya giggles. I obey, cutting over the sellotaped-shut box to find a bottle of glittery red nail polish, a small tube of mascara and a set of promotional photocards with images of the Angels on them- but even this manages to make me feel sad when I flick to the photocards with pictures of Phil’s sister on them.

“I told you we should have torn those out,” Priya chastises her younger sister.

“Sorry,” Suriya grimaces, before smiling again as she addresses me. “We were going to paint your nails with that polish now, but that blue is far too good to get rid of!”

“Thanks!” I giggle, splaying my fingers for my friends to inspect. “God, even this is making me remember the first time I had my nails done, when we went round to Nicole’s place…”

“Forget about that bitch!” Harriet sneers.

“I wouldn’t be TOO harsh,” Priya says. “I know her little brother is autistic, Nicole herself might be, you know…”

“I don’t care,” Megan says. “You DON’T do that to a friend.”

“Are you coming to ballet tonight?” Suriya asks. “You don’t look, you know, ‘sick’ any more…”

“God, I dunno,” I sigh. “I mean, I LOVE ballet, but she’ll be there…”

“You’ll have to face her sooner or later,” Priya says. “Better do it when you’ve got all your friends backing you up.”

"AND it's your last lesson before your birthday," Suriya says. "You know Miss Fullerton always likes to make a fuss..."

"...Okay then," I laugh, making my friends all cheer. The five of them leave about twenty minutes later, heading back to their homes for dinner. Despite my earlier 'close call', I just about manage to finish all of the light meal mum prepares for me, before heading up to my bedroom to change into my regulation pink tights and black leotard ahead of tonight's lesson.

"You know, you don't HAVE to go tonight," mum says as I head downstairs, my blonde hair pinned tightly to my head and my body covered in a flimsy black skirt and a soft pink cardigan.

"No, I promised the girls I would," I sigh. "Besides, I've only just got my pointe shoes, can't really afford to let my practice slip now..."

"Okay," mum says with clear worry in her voice. "But I'm staying to watch you, okay?"

"You really, really don't have to," I say, cringing at the thought of mum embarrassing me in front of the other, older girls.

"No, but I'm going to anyway," mum says. "I'm sure that if I'm there, Nicole will know better than to cause a scene."

"Well- okay, I guess," I say, though the look mum gives me as we get in the car tells me that it's much more likely that she's coming to prevent ME from causing a scene.

As usual, I'm the last to arrive at the dance studio, and when I arrive, I'm gratified to see Megan, Harriet, Priya and Suriya all talking with each other, with Nicole sat on the other side of the waiting area- just as my friends had promised. However, the mere sight of the brown-haired girl makes me grimace. The last time I saw her, she was kissing my boyfriend- my EX-boyfriend...

"Hey girlies!" I squeak to my four friends, who all greet me with hugs.

"Hey Laura!" Miss Fullerton says with a smile. "So, last lesson as a thirteen year old..." I giggle and blush at Miss Fullerton's teasing, before her facial expression turns into one of confusion. "Why is Nicole sat over there and not over here? Has then been a fight or something?"

"Ugh," I spit. "If- when you see Viks, Victoria, can you please ask her to tell her brother that he's a complete arsehole?"

"What- nooo, really?" Miss Fullerton asks, before sighing. "And Nicole? That- god... Don't worry, I'll make sure your message is passed on. And I'll make sure you and Nicole don't have any contact tonight, I'll switch around the order so that you're not working together for the foreseeable future. And just before your birthday, too..."

"Thanks," I say with a smile as we- and the rest of the students- head into the studio. I grimace slightly as I see my mum sit down in one of the chairs to the side of the studio, but she's far enough away that it doesn't affect my concentration too much- and more importantly, so is Nicole. Even as we change into our pointe shoes halfway through the lesson and she sits mere feet away from me, I don't let her get to me, but as the lesson finishes and she reaches into her bag for her phone, I feel my anger start to rise. When she starts sending a text message and giggling at the response, I literally start shaking with rage- that text could only have been for Phil.

"Don't let her get to you," Megan whispers to me as she sees my face scrunch up into a frown. She really, really isn't worth it." Despite the advice of my best friend, one more giggle from Nicole proves to be the final straw, and before I know it, I'm stood face to face with the surprised girl.

"I'm waiting," I say through gritted teeth.

"For what?" Nicole snorts, making my hands clench into fists.

"For my apology," I spit.

"Apology for what?" Nicole giggles. "Phillykins wants to go out with ME, not YOU."

"Could you have found a way of letting me know that that didn't involve you being a total bitch?" I ask.

"Laura, we should go," mum says, approaching me and trying to separate me from my former friend.

"Oh get over yourself already!" Nicole snorts. "I already told you you can have Jordan if you want."

"You-" I snap, before taking a deep breath. "You were a lying bitch to him as well over the last few weeks, then?"

"I never lied," Nicole sighs. "If you'd asked me if I was going out with Phil, I'd have said yes!"

"How the hell does that make it better?" I retort. By now, the entire studio has fallen silent as our argument continues to increase in volume.

"Laura, Nicole, enough," Miss Fullerton says as she steps between us.

"What. Ever," Nicole snorts. "Obviously Phil just wanted a- a-" I bristle as Nicole struggles to finish her sentence. If you say 'real girl', I think to myself, I swear I will KILL you...

"A what?" I growl.

"A girl who's less than a foot shorter than him," Nicole says, rising en pointe to drive her argument home. My frown subsides, as much as I hate her right now- and as much as she obviously hates me- she didn't go down the 'obvious' route, so hopefully there is SOME chance we can be friends again in the future. I snort and roll my eyes as Nicole walks off en pointe, but before Nicole even take two steps, I- and the rest of the class- watch in horror as she suddenly wobbles, before pitching sideways and landing hard on the polished wooden floor, her foot making a loud, sickening crack as it twists in a highly unnatural manner.

"Oh my god, Nicole!" Miss Fullerton exclaims as Nicole takes several deep breaths before moaning in pure agony. "Someone get me my phone and the first aid kit from my office!"

"Owww... Goddddd..." Nicole moans as she clutches her ankle, which is already starting to swell. Right now, there's a part of me that wants nothing more than to go over and stomp on her ankle... But looking at her, all I feel is guilt. I'm the one who started the fight, it's my fault that Nicole's in pain right now... And whatever she did, she didn't deserve a broken ankle in response.

I keep my distance as Nicole is driven away in an ambulance, but as I climb into mum's car to go home (accompanied by Megan and Harriet), I immediately moan in frustration at the situation.

"What's wrong?" Harriet asks. "Nicole had it coming for what she did to you."

"AND Miss Fullerton specifically warned us not to show off in pointe shoes," Megan says. "Nicole wasn't just having a go at you, she was ignoring her..."

"Still though," I sigh. "Doesn't mean she deserved THAT..."

"Wonder if Phil will still be interested in her if she hobbles around everywhere for the next six months?" Harriet asks, making Megan giggle and me cringe.

"Can we talk about something else, please?" I ask, silencing my two friends. All the way home, I'm consumed by guilt about starting the argument- out of all of us, Nicole was the one who was most excited about getting her pointe shoes, now she won't be able to dance in them again for months, and may never be able to dance in them again...

I immediately strip off my dancewear when I get home and change back into the skirt and jumper I was wearing earlier, before diving into the weekend's homework in an attempt to distract me from my guilt, but it soon gets the better of me, causing me to reach for my tablet computer and log into Facebook. I quickly browse to Nicole's profile, and after briefly pausing, tap the 'add friend' button. Even though I don't want to be her friend, this will be the easiest way to keep in touch with her, to see how she is...

Unsurprisingly, Nicole doesn't come online for the rest of the night, leaving me still wracked with guilt as I head to bed and as I wake up the following morning. Even though it's a Saturday, I'm unable to relax in bed, so I get up just after 8am and head downstairs, obviously surprising my mother.

"Your birthday's not until tomorrow," mum laughs as I sit down at the breakfast table. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Couldn't sleep," I sigh. "Feel really bad about Nicole..."

"You shouldn't," mum says. "Whilst I don't agree with your friends that she 'had it coming', she was warned by your teacher not to misuse her pointe shoes, and she still chose to do exactly that."

"But she wouldn't have if I hadn’t gone over to her," I sigh.

"She made her own choices," mum says. "It's not going to do you or anyone else any good by dwelling on it, especially not as it's your special day tomorrow."

"Okay," I say. "I'll- I'll stop feeling sorry for myself about it, I promise."

"Good girl," mum says with a smile. "What do you have planned for today?"

"Think we're all going to Ashley's today," I say.

"Now I do like THAT boy," mum says. "He'd be a much better boyfriend for you than Phil."

"I guess," I say. "But, well, one, he's taken..." Two, he's not really a boy, three, I'm not attracted to girls...

"...And two?" Mum asks, making me inwardly curse my choice of words.

"...I'm not really attracted to him," I say with a shrug. "He's nice, yeah, but as a friend, not a BOYfriend..."

"Huh," mum says. "Well, you are only fourteen- well, thirteen years and three hundred and sixty-four days- no need to rush into getting a new boyfriend just yet!"

"Yep!" I giggle. "Done with boys for the time being!"

"Good girl," mum says yet again. "Now get some breakfast down you and go and get changed, don't want to keep your not-boyfriend waiting!" I smile as I eat my small breakfast, before heading upstairs and changing into a cute knee-length purple dress and a pair of black tights. I also fold up my old ballet leotard- which is no longer needed since my 'promotion' to Miss Fullerton's advanced class- and stuff it into a bag, ready to hand it over to a girl who needs it more than I do.

"Aww," Ashley says later as I hand her the package in the privacy of her bedroom. "You didn't need to, it's your birthday tomorrow, I should be the one giving you a present!"

"Hehe," I giggle. "Well, it's less a 'gift' and more 'recycling'!"

"Still though, thanks," Ashley says with a shy smile that begins to make me see what mum was talking about- Ashley is a really nice boy- when that's what she's being forced to be- but as much as I hate being single, there's no way I could do to Suriya what Nicole did to me. And besides, like I told mum: I'm not into girls!

The rest of our gang- our new-look gang, minus Nicole- arrive a short while later, and I giggle as Suriya immediately grabs Ashley's arm and cuddles it close to her body as she's grown so fond of doing. We spend the rest of the morning and afternoon talking about clothes and make-up, and pretending not to do that whenever Ashley's parents- or his really cute little sister Cassie- poke their head around the door. For the first time in almost 48 hours, I allow myself to relax and forget all about Phil, Nicole or my waistline. I'm with friends- true friends- and regardless of whether I'm single, gaining weight or whatever, true friends will always be the best thing in the entire world.

...As I'm reminded when I wake up the following morning at 7am, not because of guilt, or anxiety, but because of excitement and a desire to celebrate the fourteenth anniversary of my birth. I head downstairs as quickly as I can to find mum sitting on her sofa with a wide grin on her face and a huge pile of presents next to her. After giving her a long, tight hug, I quickly unwrap the presents- there's the usual cosmetics and perfume sets, hair accessories, a new dress, two new skirts, a new long-sleeved ballet leotard and a very fancy pair of shoes with a chunky 3" platform heel that I instantly slip on my feet and parade around the house in, much to my mother's amusement.

My best present, however, is a brand-new mobile phone. All of my friends have their own phones- some of them very expensive iPhones- and mum obviously saw how left out I was feeling, so got me my own phone. It may not be as expensive or as fancy as an iPhone, but it still sends text messages, makes calls, and most important, can access Facebook.

"You get £10 of credit per month," mum explains. "If you use it all up, you have to wait for the next month to be able to use it again- unless, of course, you want to earn your own money!"

"Thank you thank you!" I giggle, hugging my mum with my new phone held firmly in hand.

"Of course, I'll probably never have a face to face conversation with you ever again," mum laughs as I switch on the already-charged phone and start adding contact numbers to it from my school notebook. After connecting to the house's Wi-Fi, I also log into Facebook, only to receive an unexpected notification- 'Nicole Wyatt has accepted your friend request'. However, when I scroll down all the 'happy birthday' notifications on my wall, her name isn't on there anywhere. I open up a new chat window to Nicole and start to type a message- just to say 'hi'- but I pause before sending it. I can forgive Nicole eventually... But not immediately.

After a quick breakfast, I get dressed, opting for my new dress with thin black tights underneath (and a moderate layer of my new make-up and perfume, of course). Grandma White- my paternal grandmother- arrives shortly afterward to give me a long, tight hug and an armful of presents. As this is the first time in eleven years we've had contact on my birthday, she's gone all out in 'making up for lost time', giving me yet another new dress, ornaments for my room, ballet books and DVDS and four bottles of expensive-looking perfume. My friends are next, carrying armfuls of cards along with gifts of special fashion magazines and vouchers to my favourite clothing stores, and last but not least is Grandma Clarke, whose gift may be the best of the lot.

"I remember you telling me how you felt left out at times," Grandma says, handing me a folded piece of A4 paper. "So I went on the internet and got you this." I unfold the piece of paper and instantly gasp, tears welling in my eyes- there, printed on the paper, is confirmation of a one year subscription to the Angels' secret box in my name.

"Oh my god, thank you so much!" I squeak, launching myself at grandma and giving her the tightest hug I can manage.

"Oh, and I almost forgot this," mum says, producing a medium-sized box from behind the sofa. "From your brother. Come on, open it!" I giggle as I tear open the box to find all manner of feminine goodness inside, from girly magazines to CDs and DVDs of bands like One Direction or Out of Heaven to several multi-coloured lipsticks.

"This has been the best birthday ever," I say with tears in my eyes.

"Until the next one, anyway!" Megan laughs as I- and the people I love most of all- spend the rest of the morning and afternoon together, laughing, eating (including a gooey chocolate cake that I devour without a second thought) and generally having fun. As my friends leave later in the evening, however, I feel a brief pang of regret that I have one fewer friend than I had at this time last week, and that pang intensifies when I arrive at school the following day and am greeted by my five friends. When I arrive at form, accompanied by Harriet and Suriya, I bristle as I see Nicole sat in her usual seat, but my anger toward her instantly fades when I see the trousers on her legs in place of her usual skirt- and the thick pink plaster cast attached to her right foot.

"Come on, we'll sit somewhere else," Harriet whispers.

"No, it's okay," I say, sitting down next to Nicole, who is barely able to look at me. "Hi," I say to the brown-haired girl, who briefly meets my gaze before looking away again.

"Hey," Nicole mumbles. "Did- did you have a good birthday?"

"It was okay," I say.

"Thanks, umm, for re-adding me on Facebook," Nicole says. "I- I'm sorry..."

"Apology accepted," I whisper, trying not to give away the fact that I don't entirely mean what I said. "How- how long have you-"

"Not long," Nicole mumbles. "A couple of weeks... Phil was going to tell you before your birthday, that's why I assumed he had on Thursday."

"Does- does it hurt?" I ask, hurriedly changing the subject. "Your foot, I mean..."

"Hurts like hell," Nicole moans. "Didn't even want to come back to school today but doctors say it'll be okay as long as I don't put any weight on my foot... I'm going to be in a cast until the New Year at the very earliest."

"That sucks," I mumble. "Know when you'll be back at ballet?"

"About a month after that," Nicole says. "If I'm lucky and if my ankle heals quickly enough... Parents are furious at me since they only just splashed out for the pointe shoes."

"I hope- I hope we can be friends again someday," I say.

"I'd like that too," Nicole says as our teacher arrives to begin the form session. I don't speak to Nicole for the rest of the day- obviously she doesn't take part in our gymnastics lesson or go to the dance club, nor do the other girls allow her to sit with us during break- but as I climb into mum's car at the end of the day, I give a little wave to her as she struggles into her mother's car, her ankle obviously causing her tremendous pain.

"You two back on speaking terms then?" Mum asks.

"Barely," I sigh.

"Well, like I said, concentrate on the friends you DO have," mum says. "No point in moping, especially not when we're going to see Dr Williamson!"

"She'll have a field day with the week I've had," I moan, making mum laugh as we drive to our regular appointment.

"Hello Laura, hello Michelle!" Dr Williamson says as we enter her office. "Did you have a good birthday?"

"It was good," I say, sighing as the counsellor instantly sees through my half-truth.

"I saw your update on Facebook," Dr Williamson says softly. "Showing that you're now single... Phil was your first boyfriend, wasn't he?"

"Yeah," I sigh. "And now he's going out with one of my former best friends..."

"I'm not going to insult you by asking how that feels, because the answer to that question is obvious," Dr Williamson says. "What I want to know is how you reacted to the news?"

"Panic, confusion, anxiety, stress," I moan. "Actually took the next day off school sick, I was that messed up..."

"Laura... Laura was nearly sick," mum whispers, making me cringe as I await the inevitable next question.

"Did- did you make yourself sick?" Dr Williamson asks.

"Almost," I whisper. "But I- I didn't, I couldn't... I don't want to go down that road again. And I've spoken to my former friend... We kinda- kinda had a near-fight at ballet on Friday."

"Physical, or just words?" Dr Williamson asks.

"Just words," I say. "I was angry, I confronted her... It was stupid. Then she started showing off, ended up breaking her ankle in the process..."

"How did that make you feel, seeing her hurt?" Dr Williamson asks.

"Guilty," I sigh. "Like it was my fault for starting the argument. I didn't want to hurt her, I just wanted her to explain, to apologise... This morning, she did."

"That's a very mature attitude, Laura," Dr Williamson says. "I'm proud of you. That's certainly more mature than a lot of fourteen year olds I know!"

"Thanks," I say with a smile.

"As such," Dr Williamson says, "I feel it's time I give you a 'late birthday present'." I stare at the doctor with confusion as she hands me a small slip of paper.

"This," the doctor explains with a smile, "is a prescription for a course of oestrogen tablets." My eyes go wide and mum gasps as I stare at the slip- but it is precisely what the doctor says it is.

"It's not a full dose," Dr Williamson says. "You won't get that until you're sixteen. But it will enable your body to start developing fully feminine characteristics, and yes, it will trigger your growth spurt as well. Understand, Laura, that I'm only prescribing this to you now as your mental state has improved dramatically over the last few months- as your maturity regarding your break-up has proved- and I feel withholding it will do more harm than good, but you need to keep proving to me that you’re ready to be taking these pills as I will withhold the prescription if I see you backsliding, do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, thank you so much!" I squeak excitedly.

"You've come a long way, Laura," Dr Williamson says with pride. "You're not the shy little eleven year old I first saw so many months ago. You're a strong, mature young woman and it's only fair that you get the chance to be precisely that, to 'have the body to match' for want of a better way of putting it."

"And you're sure Laura's ready for this?" Mum asks with clear concern in her voice.

"Beyond reasonable doubt," Dr Williamson says. "I will still need you to keep your food diary and a record of your weight, Laura. If you had had a relapse of your bulimia, I would have withheld the prescription without a second thought, and the same goes for any future relapses."

"I won't relapse, I swear," I say.

"I believe you," Dr Williamson says. "At least, I believe that you believe you won't, and for now, that's good enough for me. But it's not something you can get over quickly, as you well know, but with the strength of character that you've shown, I'm sure you'll beat it eventually."

"Thank you," I whisper as we continue our session. My mind, however, is focussed only on the slip of paper I delicately hold in my fingers.

Three days later, after drama rehearsals- in which Suriya is announced as having earned the role of 'Juliet'- I stand in my living room with all my friends- ALL of my friends, including Nicole and her crutches- my mother and both of my grandmothers. I have a glass of water in one hand, and the tablet I've craved for so long in the other. My hands actually start to shake as I pop the tablet on my tongue and swallow it with a mouthful of water, before showing my empty mouth to my delighted friends and family. These pills won't turn me into a girl overnight, but several months from now, by my fifteenth birthday, I've been assured that they should see me finally become the girl I always wanted to be. So what if I'm still single by then, or if I've lost a few friends and gained others- I'll always have people around me who love me for who I am, and who I want to be.

And most importantly, for the first time in a long time, I'm starting to love myself for who I am too.