by:

MacKenzie Hodge has lived a life of secrets and lies. Chief among them is his, it, or her true gender? Now faced with an important decision, Mac has to decide what kind of future they want. Fortunately for Mac, there's a whole summer to decide.

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Author's Note:Ch.2. I decided instead of posting on Sundays, I'll post on Mondays. There might be a week off or so coming up though. I fell a bit behind on the writing this week. I had a bit of insomnia -_-. I'm still very committed to this story though. Mac's tale is an interesting and fun one. Like I said before, its different too. How different you ask? Well you'll find out in this chapter. Another short chapter too, sorry about that. Originally this one and the first chapter were one big chapter but it didn't flow right. Ch.3 is a bit longer, I hope you enjoy :).

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2.

I barely managed to catch the bus going home.

“Cutting it close today, kid” said the driver as I slipped in just as the door was shutting.

"Got held up, Harry.”

Unlike most schools, because mine was in the city, there were no yellow school buses. Instead, most either walked or took a city bus. Our brownstone was ten blocks away. I suppose I could have walked it but Mom felt the city wasn’t safe enough for that. So she insisted I take a bus to and from school every day. It never used to be, that way. Growing up I went to St. Anthony’s, the private school that Mom worked at. The very same school my sister, Claudia, attended. Unfortunately, St. Anthony’s only went up to Middle school. Besides, when I was ready for high school, I insisted I be able to go to a public one. Not that I had any problems with private ones, it just felt wrong somehow. Too much Gossip Girl for me.

Well, that wasn’t the only reason.

The other didn’t appeal to me.

“So you going home or the Gym?”

"Home” I said, zipping my pass and finding a seat close to the front.

Harry the driver and I were old friends now. It was one of those strange friendships that grew out of location and convenience. He’d been driving this route for fifteen years without incident. The first day of my freshman year, some guys started hassling me for sitting in the wrong spot. Harry actually stopped the bus and threw them off, telling them he didn’t take too kindly to bullies. Then he asked me to sit up front from then on. Over fifty, he wasn’t exactly the kind of person a teenager might call a “friend” but I liked talking to him. Before being a bus driver, for instance, he used to work as a mechanic at the airport. Before that, he was in the military. He had a lot of stories. He reminded me a bit of Jax in that respect. My stepfather was in the military too for a short time. Jax and Harry both enlisted straight out of high school but unlike Jax, Harry stayed with it. Jax did his tour then retired into the private sector. Harry drove caravans for about a decade then left to spend more time with the family. After getting laid off from the airport, he took a job as a bus driver to put his kids through college. Now he was expecting his first grandchild and couldn’t be happier.

Like I said we talked a lot.

“So last day of being an underclassman, how does it feel?”

I shrugged. “The same as last year.”

He chuckled. “It might feel like that right now but wait until September comes, you’ll notice a difference. You’ll be a Senior then, the whole school will be your oyster.”

“We’ll see about that.”

He chuckled again. “Mark my words.”

Our conversation stopped there which seemed to suit us both fine. Not that I was tired of talking with him, I would never tire of that. I just wanted to take a look at Tess’s music before I forgot. Holding up my phone to indicate what I was doing, Harry smiled and nodded. Then I removed the drive from my pocket and fished through my backpack for my laptop. Most kids had one these days. Mine was a newer model, smaller than most. Just so I didn’t have to get one of those cumbersome carrier bags too. I plugged in the flash drive after booting up then went about uploading the music. I was surprised at how much was on there. At least thirty songs and of varying types and styles.

She really was a musicphile.

I was impressed.

I quickly transferred them to my smartphone before shutting down the laptop and putting it away. Plugging in my headphones, I queued up a Tara song and listened to it the rest of the way home.

Ok, so something real quick here.

I will always only refer to home as “the city”. It might be New York, it might be Boston. I’m never going to say. It's on the east coast and it's large. There’s brownstones, lots of traffic and many rude and disgusting people. That’s as far as I’m ever going to go to describe it though. I don’t want people trying to find out where I live and come dropping by. My mother had those problems, it didn’t end well. Hell I got kidnapped because of it. So I’m being purposefully vague so as not to fall into the same situation. Maybe one day I’ll say more but right now just be happy to know that I loved my city.

Harry dropped me off in front of the house.

“Here ya go, kiddo” he said with a happy smile.

“Thanks, Harry.”

I hopped off and quickly made my way up the front steps to the door.

I entered the security code, opened the door and stepped inside.

We owned the building.

I think at one time it might have been a multiple family homes but no longer. After Mom retired from modeling, she used her considerable wealth and bought the place. After my parents married, they bought the townhouse next to us as well. It took nearly a year to renovate and combine the two. It was actually pretty impressive when you thought about it. I mean how many kids can admit to having their own foyer complete with chandelier and winding staircase. Not that it was anything fancy but it was ours. It was also the only sign that my parents used to show their wealth. They were pretty modest people and lived their lives as such. They didn’t drive fancy cars or hire nannies to take care of us. The only other sign of wealth was the vacations and those only happened in the summer.

There were three stories, seven bedrooms, two and a half baths, a large dining area and kitchen.

Of course, only four of the bedrooms were actually bedrooms. One for each of us then the guest room. The rest of the bedrooms were converted into other things. One was an office, one was an entertainment room and the last one was a small workout area.

“I’m home” I shouted, not expecting a response.

It wasn’t quite three yet, which meant Mom and Claudia were still at school and Jax was still at the Gym. Smiling at having the house to myself, I quickly climbed the stairs to the second floor. My parents had the house laid out with visitors in mind. The first floor was for entertaining purposes, i.e. for when we had friends over. Its where the entertainment and workout room was. There was a guest bathroom down there as well. The second floor was for our “living”. The office was there along with my parents’ bathroom, the kitchen, dining area, and the living room. Most of our TV watching though was either done in the bedrooms or the, entertainment room downstairs. Speaking of bedrooms, they were on the third floor, along with the bathroom that Claudia and I shared.

Wandering into the kitchen, I quickly set about making myself a sandwich.

I was almost done with it when I heard the front door open.

“Kenzie!”

“In the kitchen!” I shouted.

The great and weird thing about being named MacKenzie were all the names people could get away with calling you. In school, I was only “Ken”. At home, my mother always called me Kenzie and Jax usually called me “Mac”. Claudia called me Mackie usually. Out of all of them, I preferred Mac the most. It was a name that seemed to sum me pretty well.

“I want one of those” said a voice behind me.

I turned and found Claudia trudging into the kitchen, dragging her backpack behind her.

It was hard to believe that she and I were siblings. No, it wasn’t because her father was African American either. Claudia was a bit of a girly girl. Her favorite color was pink, she wore dresses and skirts constantly and had been taking ballet lessons for the last four years. She was graceful and sweet and short. That last part she could do nothing about, not right anyway. She was nine after all. Though from what I understood, she was the tallest in her class. She probably would be too. Given the combined genes of both Jax and Mom, Claudia might even be taller than me when she was grown up. She was definitely going to be looker. I didn’t envy Jax when she started noticing boys.

Turning around, I placed her PB&J on the kitchen island.

“That’s why I made you one.”

I only just managed to cut it in half before Claudia started to eat.

I rolled my eyes.

She might have been a girly girl but she had an appetite like a truck driver.

“Why am I not surprised you’re eating,” said my mother as she walked into the kitchen.

“Its good”.

“Honey, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Mom and I laughed.

I couldn’t help but smile at the both of them. The two most important women in my life. Sweet, frilly Claudia with her pink backpack and her mouth full of s, sandwich, and my mother looking as beautiful as ever. Looking at Mom, you would never be able to tell she was nearly forty. She took good care of herself. She and Jax worked out for two hours every morning, which also included a jog around the block. She ate healthily and still had that eternal youthful glow. Save for a few lines and maybe a couple of stray grays, she still looked as beautiful as ever. One could clearly see how she’d been a supermodel.

When we were together, no one could ever not mistake me for her kid.

We shared the same pale skin, same light blonde hair. We were even the same height. The only thing different about me was my eyes. Whereas hers were blue, mine were green. We even looked very similar, features wise. Which is blood in the water when it comes to high school. Being a boy with feminine looks was not easy. Hell, being a boy, in general, was never easy. As far as I knew, I looked everything like Mom and nothing like my Non-existent father. Well, maybe the eyes. That was only a guess though. I knew nothing about him and it bothered me. I was almost eighteen after all.

“Is your father home yet?”

“You’re kidding right?”

She sighed. “I swear to God that man would sleep in that Gym if he could.”

He has actually.

Not on purpose though.

Whereas Mom made decent money being a teacher and still had quite a bit of a nest egg from her modeling days, the Gym was our real bread and butter. Jax was Mom’s bodyguard for about five years or so before he quit. He said his heart had never really been in it. He technically stopped being her bodyguard about a year after he was hired. He stuck around because he’d fallen in love with her. He also ended up in our lives. He quickly became the father I never had and cared for my mother in a way that no man ever had. He was warm and kind and protective. It was no wonder they fell in love. The Gym was a dream of Jax’s. His uncle used to own a Gym when he was growing up. Its where he learned to box. He didn’t get into the Mixed Martial Arts stuff until the military. Well just after actually.

When he beat out Ross, he wanted to give something back to the community. He knew how important his uncle’s place was to the youth in his neighborhood growing up. He wanted to do the same. He wanted to make sure kids had an outlet outside of the drugs and violence. They also needed a place to blow off steam and settle differences. It started out with just boxing. The martial arts stuff didn’t come in until much later. I was about seven when I started to pick it up. First the boxing then later Aikido and more recently a bit of Krav Maga. Jax learned the latter in the SEALS but refused to teach me until I was a bit older.

So I was no slouch in a fight.

I just wasn’t getting in line to have one.

“You want me to go and get him?”

“You don’t mind?”

I shrugged.

To be honest, I was itching to leave already. Don’t get me wrong I loved both of them to death. My mother was awesome and my sister was the most precious thing in the world to me. I just didn’t like to be around them when they were together. Mom always wanted to have that little girl to pamper and do all the Mother-Daughter things with that she could never do with me. I think she’d all but given up hope after she had me. I was nearly nine when they had Claudia. Mom finally got her little princess. Not that I was upset or jealous. In fact, what nine-year-old boy wants to spend time with his mother. I had baseball and my fighting lessons with Jax. By the time Claudia started walking and talking, I was ready to be the Man of the House or at least one in training.

Ironic.

“You two do your whatever thing...I don’t mind.”

Mom frowned. “You know...”

I cut her off. “I’m good Mom.”

I left the room after that. I wasn’t in the mood for what she was about to say. I’d heard it before. I thought about making a beeline for the third floor and my bedroom but gave it a second thought. If I went there, I’d probably end up on the computer, stuck in one of my senseless games. I had the whole summer for that. Instead, I turned and went back down. On the main floor, I quickly made a mad dash for the outside. I heard my mother call me but I was already out the door and couldn’t hear anyway. Just as well, I’m sure she was going to try scolding me again. Ok so not scold me but try to have another conversation that I was unwilling to have. The same conversation that she’d been trying to have with me for well over a year now.

The elephant in the room as they call it.

I shook off the thought as I made my way down the street. I pulled out my phone, making sure the headphones were plugged in before I started some music. The soulful sounds of Tara filled my ears, drowning out my worries. I smiled as I walked. Of course, the first song on Tess’ list would have to be Tara. Tara was her favorite after all. I know I dumped on the girl before but what’s not to like about her. She had a great voice and she was one of those wholesome Country blondes. She was young too, around my age. She reminded me a bit of my Mom in that respect. Discovered young, spent most of her life in the spotlight. I couldn’t help but wonder if Tara had someplace to go when she couldn’t take it anymore?

Mine, that one was easy.

The Gym.

I’d been in and out of gyms since five years old. At first, it was just to follow Jax, to be more like him. Then he started me on a training regiment. It was slow at first but built in intensity as I got older and stronger. I was ten when he finally purchased his own place. The neighborhood where we lived was actually very similar to the one that Jax grew up in. Though not considered the best place to live, it had a great sense of community. Part of that was Mal’s Gym. Mal’s---according to Jax---was a stable for many years. Mal sadly passed away right before Jax graduated high school. The Gym fell into limbo. With no Will and no family, the gym ended up with the bank. They tried to get someone to purchase it but no one was interested in a place in that part of town. Until of course Charles Ross. Ross didn’t have the community’s best interest at heart. That’s why Jax stepped in. Looking for a new start and an outlet, he made an offer. The city had a dozen or so high-end clothing stores, what they didn’t have was a place for the young people to go and unwind.

It was an easy sell.

Our townhouse was only a few blocks away.

I used to feel a little out of place around here. When we moved here, I was the only white kid on the block. Most people didn’t know how to react. It didn’t help that I was the son of a rich, white supermodel. The money meant very little to my mother though. When she bought our building, converting the property into a home, she never tried to make it look as if she was above everyone else. When Mr. Crawford down the street needed a loan to keep his store open, she gave him one. When Mrs. Cowell needed help getting her daughter braces, Mom worked out a payment deal with her. Mom was a member of the PTA, the Neighborhood Watch, went to all the city council meetings, donated what free time she had at the soup kitchen and donated to a few choice charities.

She said it was to help make amends.

She apparently lived a “wild” life back in the day.

I stopped at the Newsstand on the corner. I always felt bad for Mr. Johnson. Very people ever stopped at his stand anymore. Most people got their news from the internet these days. Magazines and newspaper were a dying breed. I always liked to do my part. I made a habit out of stopping by here every morning before school to grab a paper and a candy bar. My parents usually did too. My sister got all her pre-teen magazines from him too. The only thing we didn’t get here was the Starlight Gazette, the local Starlight Cove paper. Mom subscribed to it to see what was new in her hometown.

“Evening, Mr. J,” I said, smiling at the older man.

I grabbed a couple of Snickers.

“Mac,” he said, taking the time to shake my hand as always. “Going to see your Dad?”

“Yes sir,” I said, paying for the candy bars.

“Oh tell your sister that I have the latest issue for her.”

I smiled. “Will do.”

I said my goodbyes and walked around the corner.

Mal’s was at the end of this current street. Once the city had been smaller and this area was little shops and the like. Though there was still a few of them around, most were gone and buildings left empty. When Mal’s closed, people thought it was the end of an era. Jax buying it and reopening it brought a sense of pride back to the downtrodden. Ok so that’s a little hammy. The point I’m trying to make is that the street and the blocks surrounding it went through a little renaissance in the last decade or so. People were starting to buy up the old abandoned places and making something of them again. Who knows what this area might look like in another ten or even twenty years?

When I approached the Gym, one of Jax’s regulars was outside sweeping the walk.

“Hey Donnie,” I said as I approached.

Donnie Clarke graduated last year. He was a basketball player but not good enough for a scholarship. Sadly his family couldn’t afford college so, like most of the kids around here, he worked a few small jobs to make ends meet. Donnie worked here and at one of the mechanic shop a few blocks away. Jax did what he could and wanted to do more but some people---like Donnie---refused the help. A small part of me respected that. The rest of me thought it was plain stupid. I had no problem asking for help if I needed it. Pride was a nasty thing to have when you couldn’t afford anything else.

“Hey Mac,” he said, smiling down at me.

Donnie was tall, nearly six five. Being around him made me feel real short.

“He still in there?”

“What do you think?”

We shared a laugh. I passed over one of my candy bars before he could refuse. He took it sheepishly, opened his mouth to say something but I slipped inside before he could.

The bell above the door announced my arrival.

Not that anyone noticed.

It was pretty quiet today.

The place had its lull in customers. Most of the high schoolers usually didn’t start to trickle in on the weekdays until after dinner or before school. The middle schoolers favored comic book shops and the skate park. The elementary school kids had lessons on the weekend. I taught a few of those when I could. It was an easy way to put some quick cash in my pocket. I liked little kids too. I was also the only one who would do it. Jax had four employees, including Donnie. Most were older and ex-military. Most were there for reasons of their own and most didn’t like to bother. They were good guys but they didn’t like to be “babysitters”.

None of them were here today it seemed.

I took a moment to take in the place.

The smell of leather and sweat assaulted my nose immediately. “Blood, sweat and tears”, Jax always joked about it. I couldn’t help but smile at it. I smiled at the place too. There was a large boxing ring in the center, practice areas surrounding it. In the far left corner was the weight area, the far right was the bathrooms and locker rooms. There was even a fighter’s cage for the MMA types. Toward the back was the office, though it was mainly used for storage now. There was also a pro shop but we didn’t get a lot of sales from the local crowd. At least not during the week. On Sunday evenings though, some of the higher class clientele liked to pretend they were “fit and cool”. You could convince them to buy anything and they’d pay whatever price for it. I’m not saying we conned them but hey we had to make a living somehow.

The only sound in the room I noticed was the heavy rhythm of fists.

Well more specifically, fists on leather.

I smiled.

Jax was unwinding.

Walking into the room, I made my way slowly over to one of the practice areas. Sure enough, there was my giant of a stepfather pounding away on a poor defenseless bag. I smirked at the analogy. I felt bad for the bag too. Jax was a giant of a man. Tall and thick with muscle, a menacing figure if one were to look at him. He was a gentle and kind man though. A man who’d been in my life for as long as I could remember. It was one of those strange and yet familiar modern day circumstances. It still unsettled some but I ignored all that crap. As far as I was concerned, this man was my father, the only one I’d ever had. He was there when I needed him, let me cry on his shoulder when I was sad, let me punch it out when I was angry. He never pushed me to do anything I didn’t want but always told me to do my best at the things I did.

The kind of man a father should be.

I came up behind the bag, waiting for the opportunity to grab it.

Spotting him, I held the bag in place.

It also let him know he wasn’t alone.

“Thanks, hun.”

Hun?

“Ummm….Jax….”

He stopped punching.

He peeked around the bag, a look of pure embarrassment on his face.

“Oh shit, Mac, sorry kiddo. For a second there I thought you were your mother.”

It wasn’t the first time.

It wouldn’t be the last either.

Mom and I had similar builds after all. We were the same height, had the same relative shape. We had the same colored skin, the same white blonde hair. We even carried ourselves the same. It was easy to mistake me for her if not paying too much attention. Like I said, it happened before. More than once. I used to get annoyed about it. I used to get angry in fact. Bitter and full of vinegar, snapping at anyone who mistook the two of us. After a while, though I just learned to accept it. I even saw it as a compliment sometimes. Strange I know but there it was. It was still offsetting too.

I mean what teenage boy wants to mistaken for his mother.

Then again who said I was a boy.

Yep All Girl Here.

“You done here?” I asked, letting my deeper, more masculine sounding voice slide away.

“Almost sweetie,” he said, wiping his sweaty brow. “Give me a few and then I’ll the hit the showers.”

I wrinkled my nose from the stench. “You need it.”

Jax rolled his eyes.

I left him to his workout.

Wandering over to the bench, I stripped off my hoodie and my shirts. Sighing in relief, I finally let my “girls” out to breath. Spending seven hours or so a day with them crammed up like that, buried under shirts and a hoodie, it was horrible. They weren’t very big and when they first appeared, I’d been downright horrified. I had no idea what was going on. I tried hiding them for a while but finally, the truth came out. Mom never even batted an eye. She called Jax and they both sat me down. How do you tell your eleven-year-old that the life he always thought was true was a lie?

Ambiguous genitalia.

Thinking about it now, I smirked.

Looking down at my double As in their sports bra, I sighed. I grabbed some boxing tape off the bench, wrapped my hands slowly. Most people in my school were clueless. They saw what they wanted to see and that was enough for them. There were still the assholes though, like Brian and Mark. What they thought was a sissy fag boy was actually just a girl trying to hide. After my parents told me the truth, how I’d never really been a boy, I was angry. I lashed out, tried to deny it. I ended up in counseling for a while. Even then I tried my hardest to be the boy I always thought I was. It didn’t work.

We made arrangements though.

In school I was to remain as I always was. That was my decision. Back in the “dark ages”, they never gave children a choice. Usually, conditions like mine were corrected at birth, without the child ever knowing. It was discovered that doing things like that could be damaging to a child’s psyche. So it was decided in this modern age, to let the child decide. The thing was, I really wasn’t ready. My parents and the doctors respected my decision. There was a compromise though. I could continue to live like I’d always been but at the age of eighteen, I needed to make a choice one way or the other.

Grunting, I started pounding furiously on the speed bag. All the pent-up frustration of the day pouring out of me in one burst. Ok, several fast, rapid bursts.

So here I was in my masquerade. The perfect actor.

A boy pretending to be a girl pretending to be a boy?

Confusing.

Maybe.

I just still wasn’t sure yet though.

Boy?

Girl?

Both?

Author’s note: As I’m sure all of you know, comments are life blood to an author. I’m not begging or demanding, but I certainly would appreciate anything you have to say (or ask). It doesn’t have to be long and involved, just give me your reaction to the story. Thanks in advance...EOF