Yet again I arrived home from school with a bloody nose and covered in bruises, only this time I had two black eyes as well. It was the fifth time it had happened since I started at Saint Hubert’s secondary school and it was only Friday of my first week. I was eleven, an only child, a small slightly built boy, and though not entirely sure what a nerd was supposed to be I suspected I might have been one. I was a loner and I’d never had any friends, but then I’d never met anyone interested in the things I liked. I was clever enough to be in the top sets for everything. I’d always worn glasses and hated rugby or anything else that gave the bigger boys an excuse to hurt me. The dozen thugs that had been beating me up after school were all thirteen or fourteen, bigger than me and in bottom sets. I read once that to work out the IQ of a mob you divide the IQ of the stupidest one by the number in the mob which put them on a par with a slime mould.

I hadn’t enjoyed primary school, but Saint Hubert’s was infinitely worse and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could take it for. My form teacher had told me if I weren’t such a wimpy coward and manned up a bit the bullies would leave me alone, but then he was a rugby teacher: another slime mould. I didn’t want to man up. I just wanted to be me, and I was years away from being a man if I ever got there. At the time I couldn’t see me making it to Christmas never mind leaving school at the rate I was getting hurt. Up till then I’d been keeping what had been happening from my parents. They both work and I’d managed to get cleaned up before they arrived home.

That Friday I’d blacked out from the beating, and the thugs had left me there at school. I remember coming to in excruciating pain, but not how I got home. The police found out later the thugs had started to worry they’d gone too far so went back for me, dragged me home and dumped me over the garden hedge, and I must some how have made it inside on my own. I knew my mum and dad would be home soon, and I knew looking in the bathroom mirror I was not going to be able to hide what had happened from my parents even if I’d had the time. My chest was hurting and I was tingly and numb from the waist down. My head hurt worse than any headache and my hands were shaking uncontrollably. Walking was difficult and I didn’t seem to be able to balance properly. I decided it would hurt too much even try to get cleaned up, so I just sat there at the kitchen table. I think I must have blacked out again because when I came to mum was squatting down at the side of the chair trying to awaken me.

“Oh God, Michael, what on earth happened to you?” she asked.

I couldn’t answer. I broke down in tears and as she hugged me close I eventually managed to tell her about what had been happening. By the time I’d told her through my sobs and pain, Dad had arrived home. Mum told him what I’d said, and he said, “In the car now please, Michael. I’m taking you to the hospital and I’m ringing the police. I don’t know where you are going to be educated, but you are not going back to to that damned place.”

I was so relieved to hear that I started crying again, but they were tears of relief. Dad’s a solicitor who deals mostly with company law, but Mum’s a GP [family doctor] and she wouldn’t let me wash. The hospital would have me photographed as evidence she said. “Here I’ll help you, Son. Take my arm,” Dad told me, but I couldn’t balance. In the end Dad carried me to the car and laid me down on the back seats.

I was taken to the operating theatre straight from the MRI scan. It turned out I’d got internal bleeding in my chest somewhere and from my brain too. I’d a greenstick fracture of my left arm and half a dozen cracked and broken ribs along with deep bruising everywhere from the kicks I’d taken when I’d been on the ground. My pelvis was broken and fragments from the edge of it had to be extracted. My testicles were damaged, one was completely crushed and had to be removed and the vas deferens from the other was damaged beyond repair. It was possible my remaining testicle would produce enough testosterone for me to undergo a male puberty, but no one was certain. It was also possible it would have to be removed. My urethra had been crushed but had been repairable. When I woke up I was in a small room and there was a lady police officer sitting in a chair at the side of my bed. She said “Hello, Michael. It’s three o’clock in the afternoon. You’ve been asleep for two days. I’ve pressed the buzzer and as soon as a nurse arrives I’ll wait outside. Your Mum and Dad will be here in a couple of hours.” She was very nice and said she wasn’t going to ask me any questions till my parents were there. A nurse came and she left.

Dad later told me she was there to protect me from some of the bullies’ parents who wanted to intimidate me into changing my story because their sons had been arrested and charged. The day after another police officer took my statement with a colleague of Dad’s representing me. You’d think I’d committed the crime. Since I’d been beaten up on school grounds the school was being prosecuted for failing to keep me safe.

My remaining testicle had to be removed. I was in hospital for nearly a month and I spent a lot of time sleeping. Mum said it was nothing to worry about because the drugs I was on were making me tired. In the end I didn’t have to go to court because the thugs pleaded guilty. Dad said if they hadn’t and they’d been found guilty their punishments would have been more severe. The ringleaders were committed to a secure institution for various periods of time and the others punished in other ways, but if they didn’t comply completely with their punishments they would be locked up too. Apparently it was not a first offence for any of them. The school was fined and had their safeguarding procedures overhauled, whatever that means. I got some money out of it which my parents put in trust for me.

I was at home recuperating for nearly a month and I became seriously bored. Puzzle books and jigsaws are all right if you like that sort of thing I suppose, and you can only do so much reading before that palls. I like preparing slides to look at under my microscope which is a very expensive modern laboratory standard one that Mum and Dad bought me because I never wanted anything like expensive electronic games systems or a smartphone like other kids. I also play the clarinet and have my own instrument, so I spent a lot of time listening to music, especially Israel Zohar playing Klezmer. After I’d been at home a fortnight things were better. I was allowed out of bed and had access to my microscope, my instrument and my music collection. After dinner on my first day out of bed, Mum said, “We need to talk about a school, Michael, and I think we need to talk about you too. Despite what happened to you, Saint Hubert’s is one of the better schools within daily travelling distance, and even if we take you and collect you in the car there are few decent state schools within reach. I don’t want to upset you, Love, but I think you would be bullied no matter which state school you attended. What do you think?”

“Probably. The bullies have to find someone. I’m small, clever and I wear specs, so I suppose I’m a natural target for them. Probably every school has some of those kind of boys, and one is enough to make life hell, but how do I get educated? Are you saying I have to be home schooled, Mum?”

“No, Son. We’re not. Your mum said state schools. There are other schools. I’ve made enquiries with some of the private schools, but the only suitable ones are all boys and so far away you’d have to be a boarder and only come home at the end of term for the holidays. I presume you wouldn’t fancy that?”

“No. Not really, Dad,” I replied. “But what choice have I?”

“Well, Love, there is one other option. Gloria Greenways Academy have said they’ll accept you on certain conditions.”

“Gloria Greenways Academy for young ladies is a girl’s school isn’t it, Mum?” I said.

“Yes and No,” Mum replied. “There are about four hundred and fifty girls there and less than fifty boys. Only girls are boarders and you’d have to be a weekly boarder sleeping there on Mondays through to Fridays. We’d take you in time for school on Monday and collect you after school on Saturday. They have lessons on Saturday morning but none in the afternoons on Tuesdays and Thursdays.”

“I don’t understand. How can I be a boarder if only girls are boarders?”

Dad said, “We’ve talked to the Head Mistress when we looked at the place. She is sympathetic and willing to take you. You could wear the boys uniform like the day boys, have a single room rather than sleep in a dormitory with a group of girls, but like the other boys you would do the same curriculum as the girls which includes, netball, rounders and other girls’ games. Ballet, dance, make up, sewing and cookery are timetabled too.

Something clicked in my mind, Dad hadn’t told me everything. “You said I could, not I would, wear the boys uniform. What does that mean?”

Dad sighed and said, “You tell him, Love.”

Mum lifted her eyebrows but said, “There are no bullies there. They are expelled on their first offence. There are no second chances for any kind of intimidation. It’s a very safe environment, so there are a lot of trans girls there, and it’s very expensive because they are discerning as to whom they will accept and the school has never been full. If you wish to go there we'll go back to court to have the fees added to your compensation. A psychiatric report, the medical reports and your history at both your schools will achieve that. Even if it doesn't work the fees will not be paid out of your compensation, your dad and I will pay them . There is another option for you at the academy. What your father told you was what would happen if you attended as a boy. Your second option is to attend as a girl, like the trans girls. You would wear the girls’ uniform, and sleep in a dormitory with a group of girls. The trans girls wear girls’ uniform, though there is a girls’ uniform pair of trousers that some girls wear if they wish. That’s what I was referring to when I said we need to talk about you. You’ve never been a happy child which has always bothered us. You’ve never been girly, but you certainly couldn’t be described as a masculine boy, and we’ve wondered about you.

“I’ve watched carefully and seen no sign that you are gay and certainly none that you are trans, but we’ve wondered. You now have no testicles, but you can undergo a male puberty if you wish with testosterone treatment. What concerns me is do you want to. I won’t allow the doctors to do that unless you can convince me it’s what you truly want. If on the other hand you ultimately wish to live as a girl, the academy is as good a starting place as any, and you won’t need testosterone blockers, just oestrogens when you reach the appropriate age. We can be grateful your face is androgynous and suffered no damage when you were attacked. I suspect oestrogens would feminise it even more.”

I was stunned, but Mum was right. I wasn’t masculine, yet I’d never thought about being a girl, but what Mum had said made me wonder for the first time what I was other than a convenient punch bag for the thugs. How did I feel about wearing a frock? I asked myself, or a gymslip? I had no answers. I can’t say I was thrilled by the idea of ballet, but given a choice between ballet with the girls or rugby with the boys it was a no brainer, I’d take the ballet every time.

Mum continued, “You have to wear school uniform, but it’s not a rigid demarcation between the girls’ and the boys’ uniforms. Mrs. Jones the head told us many pupils try the other sex’s uniform for a while, some carry on wearing it, but most go back to their original uniform. Too, a lot of the girls choose to wear the boys’ trousers rather than the girls’ sometimes, especially in the colder weather because the cloth is heavier and so warmer. The school is relaxed about it as long as you are wearing uniform. If you decide you wish to go to school there we’ll get you both uniforms and you can wear what you like when you like, but when you wear a skirt or a frock it has to be worn with girls’ underwear like the girls do. That’s because when you wear a short skirt it’s inevitable from time to time that you flash your knickers, and it would not be a good idea to be flashing boys underwear wearing a skirt especially away from the school site, on a trip for example. Your dad and I think you should go to school there, but it’s your decision. We just want you to be safe and to enjoy life. We need to know what you’ve decided by the middle of December so you’ve plenty of time to think about it.”

Dad said, “It’s the academy as a boy or as a girl, being a termly boarder in an all boys school or one of the local state schools. As your mum said you’ve got till the middle of December to think about it, which is why we raised the matter now.”

The idea of being hurt so badly again terrified me. I knew I wasn’t brave and I didn’t want to die. When I’d been bored at the hospital and wanted to get up and do something, even if it were only walk the corridors, one of the doctors had told me I had nearly died from my brain injury and I wasn’t out of danger and could still die if I didn’t stay inactive in bed. So I dismissed the idea of a state school. I didn’t think I was any more likely to make friends at a boys’ boarding school than at a state school and the idea of not being at home with Mum and Dad for up to fourteen weeks was not something I wanted to even think about, so that left Gloria Greenways Academy by default. I wanted friends and didn’t think I’d manage that dressed like the boys who went home after lessons leaving me on my own sleeping in a room on my own when everyone else was chatting in their dormitories. I accepted the academy was my next school and I was going as a girl. I decided that like anything else, you had to make the best of the good aspects and minimise the bad.

I told Mum and Dad I had decided to attend as a girl and why and Dad said I shewn considerable maturity in my attitude. I have to say I didn’t feel mature about it. I felt insecure even if it were the best option available. Mum said she was glad I’d chosen to be safe.

Mum took me to the school for a chat with Mrs. Jones the headmistress. It was like an interview to see if the school would accept me. Mrs. Jones was nice and spent a long time explaining the academy's policy regarding intimidation. It was simple, intimidation resulted in immediate expulsion. At the end of about three-quarters of an hour she said she'd be pleased to have me, and she would be obliged to be informed at least forty-eight hours before term started whether I would be attending as a girl or a boy. As we were about to leave to my surprise she hugged me and said, "I'm sure you will enjoy your time with us. I look forward to you joining us in the new year."

I went with Mum to the shop that sold the school uniform and the elderly woman that served us asked, “The full uniform package, or just a half set, Madam?”

I didn’t understand what she meant at first, but Mum did, and she replied, “The full uniform package please, including the underwear, hosiery and accessories options too.”

“Of course, Madam,” the woman replied before asking, “Appropriately sized forms to go with the bras too?”

“Please,” Mum replied.

The lady produced a tape measure and measured my chest, waist and round my bottom too. She measured my arm length and from my waist to my knees and to my ankles, and from my shoulders to my waist. She asked me to sit down and then put my feet in turn on a device that measured the length of my feet and their width too. My feet were slightly different, but she said that was normal and that for my height I was rather petite, a word that as far as I was aware had never been applied to me before. She measured my hands for gloves and my head for hats. Every uniform and pair of shoes too were made to measure and she said the entire package would be sent to our address or the school if we preferred, and would arrive within ten days.

“Home please,” Mum said, and that was that.

A week later several large boxes were delivered by Yodel the carrier. I was excited when we opened them, and part of that was because I knew there would be girls’ clothes in there for me. I suppose at that point I considered it to be in the way of a costume, like fancy dress. It wasn’t real. Mum had me try everything on to check it all fitted. The boys’ uniform was as I’d expected, underpants, vests, socks, shoes, trousers, shirts and jumpers both long and short sleeved, ties, a blazer and a coat. Everything had a small embroidered school crest on it. The sports uniform was standard, but the black pumps puzzled me till Mum said, “Boys’ ballet shoes.”

The girls’ uniform was a surprise. I hadn’t realised girls’ clothing was so complicated. Two dozen pairs of knickers, all different, bras, soft squishy thingies Mum said were to go into the bras and would give me a thirty-two A figure, things with thin straps over the shoulders she called camisoles, suspender belts and stockings, tights, things mum said were called hold ups that were like stockings but didn’t need a suspender belt, warm woolly tights, socks of three different lengths, full length petticoats, waist slips, several skirts varying in length from down to the floor to barely covering the knickers, blouses, dresses including a rather posh looking one that mum said was an evening gown for the dances, cardigans, a blazer different from the boys’ in the way it was cut, a warm coat, and a dozen different types of shoes including high heels and ballet shoes.

There were gloves including ones that reached the elbows that Mum said were formal wear and hats. The one that seemed to be made of straw Mum said was called a boater and there were others one of which was huge and floppy and again according to Mum for more formal occasions. There were some little bits of things Mum said were headwear and called fascinators. She said the shop said no two girl’s hats and fascinators were alike and when I had worked out my own style their milliners would be delighted to assist. In addition there were boxes of hair accessories, make up and costume jewellery as Mum described it. Another box contained soaps, shampoos, conditioner and another make up stuff I’d no idea what to do with. I wondered if I’d ever learn to remember what they were all called. Mum laughed and said learning it all would give me something to when I was bored.

It was exciting trying on the clothes and Mum said she’d do my hair for me. I have light brunet hair that reaches down to my collar. Mum washed my hair, dried it with her hair dryer and used her electric curler things on me. Then she applied what she said was a trace of make up. I couldn’t believe it, and I wasn’t comfortable at all knowing that the girl in the mirror was me. Pretty isn’t a word I associate with boys and I had always thought of myself as a boy. After that, some days I dressed as a boy and some as a girl to get used to it and eventually I realised it made no difference, for I was still me.

When Mum suggested going shopping with me dressed as a girl I knew no one would know and I no longer cared anyway. In the supermarket I saw at least a dozen kids I’d gone to school with and none of them even looked at me twice, except the lecherous looks I got from a pair of idiot year tens. That was a weird experience. I hated the boys, but being looked at like that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. When we finished the shopping Mum asked me if I’d like to have my ears pierced before I started school. I told her I wasn’t sure, and she let the matter drop.

Granddad wasn’t happy about the whole girl thing, but he said he’d rather have a happy granddaughter than a dead grandson, and he’d support me all the way no matter what I felt I needed to do. Gran said Granddad was a fraud, and he loved his only grandchild as unconditionally as she did.

By the time Christmas came I was pretty ambivalent about dressing as a girl or a boy. There were advantages and disadvantages to both. I’d had my ears pieced a couple of weeks before and wore a pair of tiny gold studs and I was pleased with the way they looked. As usual we went to Gran’s for Christmas dinner. On Christmas eve she’d rung Mum to finalise the arrangements and had asked to speak to me. She asked me to wear a dress when I went over. I didn’t consider it a big deal, but asked if there were any particular reason. She told me the day was special and she just wanted to see me looking pretty. I said ok but I would arrive in trousers because I didn’t want to crease up a dress in the car because I didn’t have many dresses. Gran chuckled and told me I may not be a girl but I surely looked after my clothes like one.

Mum and Dad had bought me a much better clarinet than the one I had and a pile of bits and pieces. There was pair of small diamond studs and silver charm bracelet. Mum said I could add more charms as I felt like it. Dad had bought me a Samsung Galaxy S10 Plus and said he was sure I’d find a use for it at school and when I was bored I could always use it to ring the old folks at home. He also somewhat shyly offered me something that when I opened it turned out to be a porcelain coffee mug that had ‘The Old Man’s Favourite Girl’ written on the side in really girly pink script. “You don’t have to take it to school,” he said. “I won’t be offended if you leave it at the back of a cupboard here and never use it. It’s just I saw it and thought it may give you a bit of a laugh. If it’s inappropriate, I’m sorry.”

I wasn’t bothered by what it said, but Dad thinking about me like that made me tear up. “I’m taking it to school, Dad. Then during the week you won’t seem so far away.” It all got a bit mushy at that point.

When we arrived at Gran’s I went to change. Gran knocked and entered just as I was slipping the breast forms into my bra. “Are you totally happy about this, Love?” she asked. I explained again why I’d decided to attend the academy, and she said, “Yes I know that. You told me not long after you made your mind up, and your mum and I have discussed it. I meant dressing as a girl, here turn round and I’ll zip you up, you seem to be so calm about it almost resigned. You do have a choice you know.”

“Do I, Gran? Do I really? The academy is my only real option as a school, and it is a girls’ school that some boys go to. A lot of those boys are actually trans girls, so they have to be counted with the girls. I’ve been keeping my own company all my life, and now I have an opportunity to mix with other kids of my own age, maybe even have some friends. I’m going to a girls’ school and I want to fit in, so do I really have a choice? And I’m not at all sure I want to go through puberty as a boy. I’m not saying I want to do it as a girl, but it seems like my only viable option in the long term, so do I really have a choice?”

Gran kissed me and said, “Perhaps not, Love. You look very fetching in that dress. We’ll have to go shopping together one weekend. The reason I asked was your Granddad was a little anxious you were being pushed by events in a direction you may not have wanted to go.”

“I’m definitely being pushed, Gran, but after what happened fighting it is foolish, and some of the time I enjoy it. Tell Granddad not to worry. I’m ok with it and looking forward to going to a school where I can enjoy my lessons and playtime too without having to worry about the bullies.”

Gran and Grandad had bought me a hair dryer and some curling tongs and two pairs of dangly earrings, “Your Mum suggested the dryer and the tongs, and the earrings are for when you can take the studs out,” Gran explained. I enjoyed the day though I don’t remember much more about it.

As we were leaving Granddad tousled my hair for a second before saying, “I suppose I’d better stop doing that hadn’t I. If you spend a fortune having your hair done I’ll get shouted at if I mess it up for you.”

“You mind, Granddad?” I asked.

“No. I’m just concerned you’re happy with what’s happening.”

“I don’t suppose I’ll be completely happy all of the time, but no one is. I know I’ll be happy not being bullied, so that’s an improvement.” Granddad hugged me and we left for home.

Over the next few days I helped mum sew embroidered name tags on my school uniform. The name tags came in one of the boxes from the uniform suppliers and read M. Silvester. I also started helping Mum in the kitchen and learnt to iron my clothes. “You’ll need to be able to do it at school,” Mum said. Dad brought a huge trunk down from the attic that I didn’t know was up there and replaced the card in the slide in window that had his name on it with another that had my name on it. “The last time this was used was when I was at Oundle,” he said. Mum and I spent the next few days packing it with not just my clothes and belongings but sheets and pillow cases too.

Eventually the day came. Dad had loaded the trunk into the Range Rover the night before, and we set off for school. Since I’d been there before, it was no surprise when we turned into the linden tree lined avenue that led up to the massive building that had been an earl’s principal seat, but had since been home to the academy for a hundred and twenty years. Mum and I had discussed how I should dress on my first day. She’d said first impressions can only be made once and they last forever, so I had to decide whether I wanted to be seen as a girl, or as a boy who wore girls’ clothes. I’d made that decision ages ago, and Mum had informed Mrs. Jones. I wanted to fit in. It was a girls school, so I went
as a girl and dressed as one. The letter had said pupils could arrive in their own clothes, but the following day would be expected to be in uniform for lessons. Once lessons were over we could wear what we liked as long as it was within the bounds of common decency. There was a whole page on behavioural expectations which included details of unacceptable dress, make up and jewellery. It concluded with in all cases the final decision concerning acceptability was the headmistress’ to make. Dad said it boiled down to no grunge types, scruffs, punks or sluts here please which was ok with him because he wanted none as any child of his.

School was a surprise. It was so much fun. The other new pupils in my year had already been there for a term, so I’d thought making friends may be difficult. We were with Mrs. Allerton, who was head of Park house, till break and since I was the only new pupil the formalities were soon dealt with. Mrs. Allerton told us she was standing in for Miss Lee our form tutor who was stuck at an airport in Spain due to a strike. Miss Lee was a Coppice house tutor which was the house all my form were in. We played games the rest of the time till Mrs. Allerton was called away. She told us something had come up and the head mistress wanted to talk to her. She told us to chat quietly till the bell for break because it was unlikely she’d be back by then. That surprised me, if a teacher at Saint Hubert’s had done that the room would have been trashed.

At break I was sitting at a table having a cup of tea and a home made ginger biscuit with some of the girls from my form when six girls ranging in age from probably eleven to possibly seventeen came up to us and the oldest looking one asked asked, “Are you Michaela Sylvester?”

“I’m Michael Silvester,” I replied.

They giggled and she said, “No way am I having a boy sleeping in my dormitory, Michaela. And anyway you’re far to pretty to be a Michael. I’m Rachael the dorm head, these are Daisy, Georgi, Sammi, Alice and Zoë. You’re in our dorm, there’re just the seven of us. There’s room for ten beds, so we’ve a lot of space at the moment. Course if more girls join the school we’ll lose it, so we’re enjoying it while we’ve got it. If you have lunch with us we’ll get you up to speed. Just look for Sammi in the dining hall.” She pointed to a girl with brilliant red hair and said, “You can’t miss that head of hers. See you at lunch. Bye.” Then they were gone.

“Rachael’s head girl and head of Coppice house. She’s in the upper sixth and leaving at the end of the year,” I was told by Julia. “She’s really clever and expected to get a scholarship to Oxford. She’s nice.

The first day was just settling in, you know issuing books, seating plans, pairing us up for science partners, checking everyone’s details on the computer were up to date, all that sort of thing. I got lucky with my science partner. Diana was really nice and clever too. She was in Desmesne house. The teachers were good and I was addressed as Miss Sylvester, even the boys who were boys were addressed as Miss. It was part of the system and I was used to it within a day or two.

At lunch I found the girls from my dormitory, and Georgi said, “You’ll stay with us in our dormitory and study group till we leave and new girls like you join us. We’ll shew you our study when we’ve eaten, you can dump books and stuff you’re not using in your locker there. You reckon you’re trans or just blending in Michaela? I’m trans, and the others are all cis.”

“Well I think I’m just blending in, but I don’t know for sure. I had a hard time at my last school and I’ve never had any friends before, so maybe I’m trying a bit too hard.”

Georgi said, “Not to worry, Girl. I’ve been there. School was bad till I came here. Not as bad as you had it. We were told about that last term by Miss Lee when she told us you’d be in our group. You just be yourself. If you are trans eventually you’ll know, if you’re not eventually you’ll know that too. No one will give you a hard time here for long. Catherine the girl who had your bed last term was expelled after her first week for being unpleasant to some of the trans girls including me. She was a bigot in the making if not already there. None of us understood why she came here with her attitudes. If you’ve got any real worries talk to Matron, she’s a registered nurse and gender counsellor, and she’ll give you a cup of tea and some excellent choccy biccies.” [chocolate biscuits, chocolate cookies]

After lunch we went to our study which was a decent sized room and like the rest of the place that I’d seen so far was a well maintained first floor [US second floor because US first floor is the Ground floor in UK] room appointed in the baroque style. To get there we went up the Grand Staircase which was at least twenty feet wide and Zoë accurately described it as sumptuous.

After that we went to our dormitory which was an attic room with the slope of the roof on one side. “That’s your bed,” Daisy said pointing to a corner bed. “The wash basins are over there in those cupboards. The doors have mirrors on the inside so you can see properly to do your hair. The water heater is in the cupboard underneath so it’s always hot. They were only installed year before last. Before then if you wanted hot water you had to trail down the corridor to the bathrooms at the end. Your trunk will be under the bed. If you put your bed linen on your bed the housekeepers will make your bed up this afternoon and take all your spare linen away to the linen room for when you need them. Sheet changing day is Thursday. The procedure is you remove the bottom sheet. Your top sheet becomes the bottom sheet and the clean sheet which will be left on your bed for you becomes your top sheet. Leave the old bottom sheet on your bed for the housekeepers to take to the laundry. The linen room is next to Matron’s room. We’ll shew you. If for any reason you need to change your linen just go to the housekeepers and they’ll help. If you want to do any washing yourself there’re a couple of washing machines, a tumble drier and several ironing boards with irons in there.”

Alice asked me, “What you into, Michaela? Hobbies or whatever?”

“I play the clarinet and I have a really good microscope at home. I prepare my own slides and like botany and zoology,” I replied.

“That’s probably why you were placed in our group,” said Rachael. “We’re all clever and into sciences one way or another and we’re all in the school orchestra. I play the viola.”

We talked about our involvement in music and the science we were interested in. Rachael told me about Mrs. Kemp who taught botany and ran the ‘Grounds and Gardens Club’. She was trans and married to Mr. Kemp who taught French and Italian. In the autumn the club would be planting several hundred copper beeches behind the lindens that lined the drive. The idea was that when the lindens were due to be felled the beeches would be large enough to provide the drive with an avenue of flanking trees thus maintaining the look of the place. “I shan’t be here then,” Rachael added, “but when it is time to plant again, where the lindens are now, ready for the beeches being felled it is unlikely that any of us will still be alive.”

We talked about the club’s activities till it was time to go for afternoon lessons when Alice said, “I’m for the loo first, Girls.” As we all followed her Georgi said to me, “There are no boys loos here. Sit down and use a tissue ok? It’s what girls do and you don’t want to upset anyone by introducing strange noises do you.” The others smiled, and I just nodded my understanding. The afternoon was pretty much like the morning, and I met Alice and Sammi at my study where I’d gone to park my books and lesson bag.

Alice said, “I’m going to the dormitory to change, you two coming?”

I thought I’d change into a skirt and blouse and hang my dress up so I went with her. Sammi said, “Yeah, I’m playing volleyball before dinner so I may as well change now.” She turned to me and said, “Normally all my games kit would be in my locker in the changing room, but I haven’t unpacked yet so it’s all in my trunk. I’ll bring it all down with me.”

Alice was maybe five six but a well developed girl and without a second thought she stripped to the skin and changed her underwear too. She washed her knickers in the sink with some gel soap kept in the cupboard under it and hung them to dry on one of the swing out rods obviously meant for that which were above the stainless steel drainer. Sammi wasn’t as big a girl but as she removed her bra she said, “If you ever take the hormones, just remember you’ll need a sports bra for anything other than walking.” She smiled as I undressed and continued, “No sisters?” I shook my head. “To fit in with the girls change your knickers and hand wash them at least every day, preferably twice. I do it whenever I get the opportunity. You’ve got nothing we’ve not seen before and you’ll have seen us undressed more times than you’ll be able to count before the weekend, so forget being embarrassed because it don’t mean a zilch, Sweetheart.” The last was a quotation said with some zany accent I vaguely remembered from a film I couldn’t remember the name of.

So there I was having stripped to the skin and put a clean pair of knickers on washing the ones I’d taken off at the sink with Sammi washing hers at the sink next to me when Rachael and Georgi came in and started undressing. “Come on, Sammi, I need the sink,” Georgi protested.

There was a bit of banter and as I struggled a bit with my bra Rachael said, “Let me help. How long you been doing this, Michaela?”

“Not long and not often. Thanks,” I said as she hooked me up.

Rachael smiled as I adjusted my breast forms. “It won’t take long for it to be second nature. You’ll be fastening a bra on auto pilot soon and the hormones will make life easier for you.” Addressing us all she said, “Hey guess what, Girls. I walked past the kitchens earlier. I don’t know what’s for dinner, but by the smell I’ll need some serious gym time to work it off.”

By the end of the week I felt like I’d known my dormitory group forever. It was good. We helped each other with our prep [preparation, equivalent of homework], played games together, and I learnt how to play Mah Jongg, which was a popular game we played in the evenings. For the first time in my life I felt I belonged in a group of my own age. They knew I was a boy and what had happened to me, but they treated me like a girl and helped me fit in. It wasn’t long before I did. I had other friends too, mostly classmates, so they were my age, unlike my dormitory group who were one in each year group. Diana and I became good friends, she was an only child and into biology too and she played an alto saxophone. She was the first to invite me home for a weekend. Her dad’s a policeman and was off duty that weekend. Mum and Dad were delighted though I was a bit nervous. I needn’t have been. Diana’s parent’s knew about me and were really nice. Her mum told me I was sharing a room with Diana and lights were to be out at half ten. Her dad added, “Girls, you are not to spend all night chatting. Conversation is to cease not long after light’s out. Ok?” Guess what? We talked really quietly till one o’ clock.

We went shopping with her parents on the Sunday at a huge shopping centre [mall]. Diana’s mum and dad wanted to look at dining tables and chairs and suggested we met up in an hour for lunch outside the Harvest House which though a chain did really good food at a reasonable price. Diana and I said we’d go window shopping and would look in at Little Miss Fashions. After looking through the windows we decided to look more closely at what was on offer in Little Miss. There were some really pretty undies and we spent some money which we’d not intended to do. When we left talking about where we were going to go next we were accosted by two men who looked to be about nineteen or twenty. I was really scared, it was the first time I’d ever experienced that sort of thing as a girl. I was getting ready to scream for help when Diana’s parents turned up. We were lucky, for they’d found and ordered a new dining suite quite quickly and were looking for us. Diana’s dad is a big man and he looked at the men and said, “Ok, Girls, lunch.”

One of the men said, “Go find your own girls, Granddad, unless you want to make something of it.”

Diana’s dad very coolly said, “I’ve just found my daughters thank you, and I happen to be a police officer, so I suggest you leave.” He videoed them with his mobile, but with a lot of bad language the men left, and Diana’s dad made a phone call. He told us, “They’ll be on CCTV as well as on my phone. I’ve sent the footage back to the station. Doubtless they’ll be looking for other girls. However I suspect they’ll be locked up within a couple of hours. Lunch.”

I was shaking and crying and Diana’s Mum hugged me and said, “It’s all right, Michaela, You’re safe. Don’t let those horrible men spoil your day.” She kissed my forehead and said, “The chicken Kiev is nice, or the three of us could share a steak, they’re huge here. Diana’s dad can eat a full one, but one split three ways will be more than enough each. Diana and I like it but can’t eat half of one. What do you say, steak and chips [fries] with salad?” I nodded.

When we went in Diana’s Dad said, “Find us a table, Love. I’ll order for us at the bar and get a pint while I’m at it. White wine?”

“Chardonnay please. Get something for the girls.” She looked at her husband and a look passed that I didn’t understand.

When he came back he had a tray with glasses on and a froth moustache, “The Guinness [a dark Irish beer] is excellent here. Chardonnay for you, my Love, and an orange and pomegranate juice each for the girls.” As he said it Diana’s dad passed us our drinks before taking the tray away.

I’d never tasted freshly squeezed orange and pomegranate juice before and it was quite different from just orange and nice. Huge? Huge wasn’t anywhere near a big enough word for those steaks. The plates were oval, I’d say a foot by fifteen inches, and Diana’s dad’s steak covered three-quarters of the plate. He had mashed potatoes, sautéed mushrooms, garden peas and gravy with his steak and at the look on my face Diana said, “Dad will finish it. He always does. That’s why he likes eating here, cos he reckons it’s the only place he gets enough to eat except at home, and then there’s the beer too.” Her dad just grinned. Those steaks were over an inch thick and I think the three of us only just managed to finish our third of a steak with chips and salad. No one wanted pudding after that.

The meal was excellent and it took my mind off the incident before lunch. We all went for a walk after lunch round the shopping centre and Diana’s mum bought both of us a Celtic patterned, silver hair slide thingy. I’m not sure if they have a special name, but the big curved bit goes over your hair and the pin goes through one side of it, under your hair and back through the curved bit on the other side and clicks in so it can’t come loose. On the way home Diana’s dad said, “You may feel a little tired, Girls. I’ve known the landlord a long time. I had him split a measure of brandy into your fruit juice to settle your nerves.”

“Why, Dad? Isn’t that against the law?”

“No. You were having it with a meal, so it’s legal as long as the landlord and the responsible adult agree to it. As to why, your Mum told me to. She said ,‘get something for the girls.’ We’ve been married long enough for me to know that meant something to settle your nerves after being upset by those two idiots. I suggest when we get home you get an hour’s sleep and I’ll drive you down to the wood. I’ll read a book while I wait in the car to take you back home, so you won’t miss out on any time there. Ok?”

We were going to the wood, which was a couple of miles from Diana’s house, to collect samples of mosses, liverworts, and ferns and any fungi we didn’t recognise. We’d planned on spending the evening with the samples, Diana’s reference books and her binocular microscope. It wasn’t as powerful as mine, but for larger samples it was better, and it gave you a three dee view. Dressed in Diana’s jeans and wellies with a jumper and a coat on the pair of us looked like tramps [US hoboes], but we enjoyed ourselves, and later that evening I said, “What do you make of this, Di? At first I thought it was Marchantia polymorpha which is nothing special, but I don’t think it is.”

Diana studied the liverwort for a couple of minutes before saying, “Definitely not Marchantia, Chaela, but I don’t know what it is either. We’ll take it back to school, cos my big reference book is there. Where did it come from?”

“I labelled everything as I bagged it, and the label says it was on the down wind side of a dead oak tree on the bark.” Now that might not be everyone’s idea of having a good time, but it was, and still is, ours.

When Diana stopped over at my house, it was more or less a repeat of what happened at her house, without the perves who were arrested less than an hour after they left us accosting a pair of girls much younger than us. At my house we went sampling pond life from various ponds and and ditches to look at under my microscope, so thinking about it maybe it wasn’t that different. I’ve stopped over at friends’ houses for weekend shopping, parties, dancing, roller skating, ice skating, riding, oh all sorts of things and friends have stopped over with me for various activities including a brilliant barbecue when we danced outside, thanks Dad, going shopping with Mum or Gran or both.

One thing I felt really good about was when I stopped wearing glasses. I didn’t think I was bothered, but the girls at school said I should try contact lenses. I spoke to Mum about it, and she said she’d look into it. Well, I stopped wearing glasses, but I didn’t swap them for contact lenses. I had laser surgery on my eyes, and my sight became perfect. I felt so good about myself. I hadn’t realised how much it mattered to me, so I must be a lot vainer than I realised, but I did look a lot prettier.

Like I said, school is fun. Rounders, netball and the other games we play are about enjoyment, not hurting each other like rugby and football seem to be about. I’m doing really well in lessons, and the older girls in my dorm group can always explain what I don’t understand first time around. I joined the bridge club which is fun. I’m no good yet, but I’m getting better. I really like the way I live and rarely think about living any other way. I haven’t worn my boy’s uniform yet, and the way things are going I’ll have out grown my trousers by autumn in year eight and the weather is cold enough for me to want to wear them. I’m getting more into make up and jewellery, and Miss Johnston our make up teacher says I have a good eye for colour. I get asked to help with their make up by the girls in my dorm group, and Sammi has put highlights in my hair, red of course. I’ve nine silver charms on my bracelet now and Gran told me on the phone she bought a couple more really nice antique ones for me from a charity shop, but she wouldn’t tell me what they were. I’ve decided I like Celtic silver jewellery and I’ve bought some earrings to go with my hair slide.

I love dancing, and am looking forward to the first formal dance when boys from Hereward the Wake school will be visiting us, the venue alternates from our school to theirs which is about twenty miles away. Though I prefer other kinds of dancing, the thing I had been dreading, ballet, is actually rather calming, but it’s hard work. In a leotard without my bra and forms I felt a little conspicuous and vulnerable to start with till Diana said, “Look at the rest of us, Michaela. At least three-quarters of us are as flat chested as you.” Sewing and cookery are fun, and useful too. Other than that lessons are the same as at Saint Hubert’s, but with better and kinder teachers, and a lot more practical work which is fun. I’m thinking about taking my microscope to school, but if I do that it’ll need a much better protective travelling case than the one it came with, but Dad will know how to get one.

Some of the girls live a long way from school and are termly boarders. They only go home for the holidays. A lot of things happen at school over the holidays and some girls stay at school for them, maybe not for all of the holiday, but for a few days. I’ve invited Elizabeth and Claire two of the termly boarders in my year home for the Easter holiday. We’ll be staying at my house for a week and Gran’s for the other week.

I’ve no idea what the future holds, but I think I must have made my mind up about who I am because last Saturday when my parents came to collect me I was wearing my school uniform skirt and blouse. I’d done that before loads of times, but when my father hugged me he kissed my forehead too and I said, “I love you too, Daddy.”

Mum said, “You’ve never called your father Daddy before. Why did you do that, Love.”

“It’s what the other girls call their fathers, Mummy, so I’m just doing the same. I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Somehow it seems right.”

Daddy said, “The other girls! So to whom am I talking?”

“Your daughter. You know everyone calls me Michaela or Chaela at school, Daddy. Well I’ve decided I’m going to be Michaela all the time everywhere.”