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Chapter 4 - Rebirth

Morning, October 21st, 2007 - Lummi Island

The day before my birthday I hid in my room and informed my mom I was sick. She saw how thin I was and muttered about taking me to the hospital only for me to beg her to just let me rest. My dinner, of course, consisted of microwaved Chicken Noodle Soup and several glasses of water. I also asked for some high protein foods and she let me eat a few cans of beans. I say a few because I'm pretty sure I ate at least three after the soup for lunch. The next day I awoke even hungrier as I tried to remain cognizant and lucid.

Opening my eyes that morning I was curious to hear how quiet it was outside. Usually, on my birthday mornings, my family would be upstairs cooking breakfast and waiting for me to wake up. If my birthday was on a Sunday we would attend church in town and eat out afterward. But from what I could tell as I sat up, none of the above was happening. I ran through my memory to figure out what was going on. There was no way in hell my parents forgot my birthday. Likely they were all sleeping in on account of me claiming to be "sick" yesterday. I mean I had pulled the hood on my favorite sweatshirt to hide from mom last night so maybe they were giving me some air.

I glared at the cement floor of my room and decided to bite the bullet and placed a foot down on it. DAMMIT, THAT'S COLD! My lips pulled in a tight line and I just stepped down. Screw this! It was my birthday and one cold floor wasn't going to hold me back. Each step was a tiny icy dagger to the soles of my feet, but I was determined to get dressed for my birthday. Originally, I'd planned to wear my usual band t-shirt black pants combo. I know it wasn't really inventive when it came to fashion. All of my feminized feelings were suppressed for years!

Deep in my pants drawer, I found a pair of cargo shorts. Just holding them up really emphasized the changes which had overtaken me. From what I could tell, my hips had visibly widened enough that pulling on the shorts could be problematic. I fished out a snarky t-shirt with the words "Heavily medicated for your safety" and pulled it over my head. At least my boxers were still pretty comfortable and the shorts were fine after I pulled my belt to its tightest. The shirt proved an issue and as I sat there staring down at my chest I took stock in what was happening.

My hands were slimmer, and so were my legs. Well, my thighs still had a good amount of curve to them and seemed to just make my hips more obvious. A quick glance at my chest told me that my flabby chest was definitely more defined, and yup, I had a small budding pair of breasts. After a few minutes, I resolved to tighten the loose shorts at my navel before running a brush through my long hair. At least that wasn't a big change, I'd had long hair since middle school and honestly, I was proud of my curly locks. All that remained was pulling on a pair of socks to avoid that damn cold floor.

As I padded to the stairs leading up to the kitchen I gulped. This was the day I revealed to my parents I was a mutant, and I wasn't sure how they would react. My mom was a vocal liberal and so she often screamed at the TV whenever Humanity First joined the talking heads. Dad, however, was a bit more laid back and seeing his jovial face in disgust at his newfound daughter was not something I wanted to see.

The hell with it!

I exhaled sharply pressing all the anxiety out and told my worries to feck off! This was -my- bloody day! I stomped up the steps to make it clear I was awake and peeked around the corner into our kitchen. Just like the night before my dad was working at the cooktop frying a bunch of corn beef hash in a pan. He didn't bat an eye and just said, "Hey boss, happy birthday."

Then he looked at me and his eyes widened. I gave a small uneasy laugh as I walked over toward the couch with its back to the bay window. All I could do was flop down and wave at him a little as he turned off the stove and came to sit down by me.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" he asked gently.

Let me say something about my parents. They were hard on me when it came to grades, and if I did something stupid they let me know it! I was fully aware every year of the amount of work they did to keep a roof over our heads and for lack of a better word it did bother me at times. They weren't perfect. My mom often judged my dad after family events down in Seattle, and he was quick to anger as she pressed his buttons.

But nowhere in his eyes did I see hate or a remote bit of disgust. This was the father who'd changed jobs and worked from home so mom could pursue a career as a college professor.

"Um...I think I experienced some changes Friday night, and I awoke to my eyes changed, I guess I'm a mutant," I winced.

"Is there something else?" he asked and placed an arm around my shoulder. Instantly, I leaned in and moved closer his fatherly embrace was safe to me.

Oh, goddess where was mom?

"What honey?" my mom said as she stepped out from the staircase leading to the upstairs. I could tell she'd had a long night likely fighting a migraine, her eyes were a little glazed likely from just waking up.

"Hey mom," I said reenacting my earlier re-introduction to dad.

"Oh baby," she said and I soon found myself hugged from the other side.

"Mom I-" my voice broke and this time I could make out the higher octave.

"Okay why is everyone," I heard my little sister say as she strolled downstairs directly into the kitchen. Her brown eyes opened in shock as I redid the wave to her as well. Unlike my parents, my little sister's reaction was to walk over, get a mug of coffee and add some milk before saying a thing.

Seriously, she did this every day and had been drinking the stuff since she was five.

"Too early, need coffee," I could make out from the kitchen.

"Is this why you were hiding last night?" mom asked.

"Yeah um...I woke up and noticed how different I looked after a shower yesterday morning," I mumbled, anxiety spiked in my chest, "And I wasn't sure how to tell you."

"Tell us what honey? That our son needs us and was scared that we wouldn't accept them?" my dad the ever perceptive counselor finished what I was trying to say.

It was then that I gently broke away from the parental hug and stood up for a moment. Dad gestured for me to take a deep breath as I felt tears filling my eyes. Ever since I was a kid I'd had issues with anxiety and how hard my emotions struck me. This time the waterworks broke and I started to cry as years of repressed feelings washed out.

"Mom...dad...I've always wanted to be a girl but I - I - I" I stuttered as I covered my mouth in shame at what I just said.

"Oh this makes sense," my mom said, "I always did find your excuses for reading those stories a little weak."

Mom's response caught me off guard, yet I had been fascinated with transgender women since I was ten. A random hour-long documentary had drawn my attention and mom can, I guess, read between the lines.

"Padraig, whoever you want to be doesn't matter to me as long as you're happy," dad said and kissed my forehead.

I was crying at this point and even mom was misty-eyed. Throwing caution to the wind, I sat back down and hugged mom so hard and even she said: "Whoa honey you're a bit too strong!"

"Alright," my sister said as she walked from the kitchen, "If you're my big sister now, that means one thing."

"I'm your big barbie doll now?" I replied from my seat on the couch.

"Of course, who else is going to teach you how to dress, do your make up." She even did a small motion with her hand counting off all I would need to learn.

"Sounds about right," I remarked before my dad rose and returned to working on breakfast.

"You'll need to get your powers tested soon baby," mom said and I flinched a little bit.

"Do we have to go to the MCO location in Ferndale," I asked with a small whine attached.

"Yes, unfortunately, that's where they put their offices," she replied, before adding, "your father does know someone in Alliance who could probably do a basic test for you."

Wait, dad worked with the Whatcom Alliance? I thought all he did was work vocational rehab stuff for the state and the American Legion on the reservation.

"Maybe, I'd have to ask if they'd mind it first, but it's an option," dad replied from the cooktop. Meanwhile, my mouth started to water from the sweet smell of cooked potatoes!

"Can I eat breakfast first?" I whined this time louder than before.

"Of course, then we will do your birthday presents since you didn't want a party this year." I nodded slowly and mom said, "But in the light of recent news. I think we will have to make a change of plans."

I frowned, what did she mean by that? Wait, did that mean?

"Ooo we need to go shopping!" my sister cheered as I stared at my mom. Shopping, now, on my birthday? The idea of being dragged out to try on clothes or find things didn't seem fun to me.

"Honey, can you meet us at the restaurant later tonight and I'll go get our oldest something more fitting to wear?" I was surprised to hear her willing to do something so out of the blue. My parents were supportive, but I didn't expect to suddenly go clothes shopping on a Sunday afternoon.

"Mom," I said trying to dissuade her. My current look was fine, I just wanted to get through the day and relax, not get dragged into town to play dress up.

"Too late big sis, we're doing this now," my sister said and pumped a fist into the air.

This day was getting weirder, and weirder.

Noon, October 21st, 2007 - Target

Life was playing a joke on me lately, and I was certain the delusion I was having was going to come crashing down. Even as I opened the door of my mom's Honda CRV I found myself in a daze. After nearly an hour in the car and clamming up to work through my own thoughts I was still surprised. My parents weren't terrible and I hadn't thought they'd disown me like some of the mutant kids I've read about, but I never expected my mom would decide an impromptu girl's day out on the spot. Still dressed in my Hot Topic t-shirt I was busily trying to maintain my composure as my mom picked through her purse for her phone.

"Why did you buy the Gizmatic mom?" sis asked as she was busily texting on her phone to one of her friends from middle school. I had a simple folding phone on me, and yet the more I watched my sister mindlessly staring at the screen the more I was unsure what to do.

"It's a good solid piece of technology," mom replied.

"Sounds good to me," I added as we passed through the automatic doors of Target. I did my best to stay close to mom while we made our way to the women's clothing department. I was surprised that so far we haven't received any of the odd looks I feared. Mom and Sloan disappeared behind a series of racks bursting with clothes. Taking a deep breath, I ran a hand across one of the tops and as I did, I began to feel a strange unnerving itch along my skin.

The itching continued even as I drew my hand back, and it continued with my current top. I ignored it and decided to just watch the cis-girls around me. Sloan was busily moving through a rack and her hands moving each piece of clothing until she found one she liked. She picked each preferred article and held them in her opposite hand. I tried my best to copy the movement, and after a while I got a feeling of what kind of tops I wanted. Honestly, it was hard to put together a new look when I had only fantasy to drive the equation.

I had a few different items in hand and I realized I had no idea what my sizes were now. In one hand I held two tank tops each plain and were listed as mediums. One, a white one, made my hand itch just by holding it and the longer I did the more uncomfortable it became. I put the tank back on a rack as fast as I could and hissed as I noted how red my skin was getting,

"Honey, are you okay?" Mom asked me. I gave a slow shake of my head and showed her the rash. Looking it over she gave a small gasp as the rash receded within a few minutes.

"It was some of the clothes I touched, and my T-shirt I'm wearing. They itch, but the more of it I had to touch me the more it started to hurt," I said.

"That's weird," Sloan remarked as she came to stand beside me.

Mom picked up the tank from me and glanced at it. She seemed intent on reading the tag and finally reached out to pick up another top nearby. Again, as soon as I touched it my hand began to itch. It felt like a swarm of insects crawling over my skin and I withdrew my hand with a hiss.

"Try this one," mom handed me yet another top, this time a baggy sweater. Nothing happened, as soon as I touched it my skin felt fine. I huffed a bit in confusion as mom tapped the side of her jaw.

"We need to do some research, that sweater is hundred percent cotton," mom told me. I sighed as it dawned on me that today was going to be a long - long day.

An hour later, through empirical testing, we figured out I was allergic to synthetic fibers. Sloan commented on how weird it was I wouldn't be able to wear most of the cheaper clothes I liked. Mom, on the other hand, took it in stride and we went through each and every article of clothing I thought about wearing. After a while, we accrued a sizable pile of potential tops, bottoms, and even underwear to try on.

I was standing next to her  while mom was perusing a few skirts for me to wear. She settled on a simple a-line and turned to face me. I noticed that she had her phone in her hand and was reading a text. Not wanting to get admonished for reading the screen I backed up and promptly pressed myself into a cluster of synthetic cloth. My skin exploded in a rash of itching as I yelped at the sudden assault.

"Dear God," mom winced as I back away from the rack and hugged myself. My shirt still itched, but it only got worse the more I touched anything that wasn't naturally sourced.

"Mom, should I start trying on some clothes?" I asked her, and she gave a curt nod. On our way to the changing room, my mom stopped me at the desk and asked the associate for a tape measure. What was she doing? I stood upon the tips of my toes to get better and I heard ,"My daughter is a late bloomer and needs to be measured for her bra size."

A bra? I blinked, of course, I would need one especially with the small, but obviously growing bust I sported. Still, it was an alien idea to me. For years I wanted to buy a bra and feel like the girl I was. The fact it was happening right now in front of me was just surreal. Moments later I was holding my hands above my head as the girl measured straight across my breasts and around to my back. After some chatter, she informed me I was an a-cup, and directed me at a few options hanging along a wall a few feet away.

"How many bras do I need?" I asked curiously.

"Maybe one or two," Sloan answered as she walked over and started thumbing through a few selections.

"Shouldn't I have one for each day?" I inquired.

"No, bras are like pants, you wear them for a few days at a time and then wash them when you need," Sloan shrugged.

It made sense, rarely did I see girls on T.V. wearing matching bra and panty sets. Well, in porn or dramas about the rich did show matching sets. Still the simple fact that I didn't need more than two bras was kind of uplifting. My mom began to teach me a few things and just as she continued Sloan handed me three separate bralettes. I quirked an eyebrow at them and she said something about "just pull them on" and so I just nodded to show my understanding.

Finally, the time came for me to venture forth into the changing room and see if anything actually fit. It was a daunting task, and while I didn't really like trying on clothes I found myself at a crossroads. My anxiety increased with every step rising to the point of all other sounds being drowned out by my solemn movements. The door to the room creaked loudly as I pulled it open and closed it behind me.

A mirror was set into the wall to my right, and three sets of wall-mounts attached to the three walls facing the door five feet from the ground. I began to hang up the various clothes I wanted to try-on sorting by placing them all on the right wall mount.

"You are so slow, GOD!" I heard a groan from Sloan

"Take all your time babes," my mom chortled from the waiting room.

I sifted through the clothing and was able to figure out a collection that didn't elicit the itch. A pair of skinny jeans were the first and I undressed. This is where I met a quandary and I stared at my nude genitals. Yup, things had shrunk and after a painfully dragged out minute, I tucked myself into a pair of boyshorts my mom had found for me. Next came the jeans which were snug against my hips and pulled up. Neither itched my skin and that tightness felt right. For the first time in my life, tight clothes didn't make me squirm about my weight or worry about how I looked.

Anxious to move forward I squirmed into the bralette and adjusted the best I could, thankful that my stomach had shrunk down likely thanks to my growing curves. The last piece was a simple black cotton tank top Sloan found for me. Again, I had to struggle a little bit pulling it over my shoulders and tugged the material down to cover my navel. After brushing back my hair I closed my eyes and turned to face the mirror.

One, two, three, and I snapped open my eyes. Where do I begin? How do I even fathom the vision before me or the fact that it...was me? Green eyes, my normal eye color, which glittered like emeralds. A pair of scarlet lips that would easily reveal a smile to brighten anyone's day. I still had my pixie nose, but a lot more had changed. My eyes were much larger, and I now sported much more pronounced eyelashes. Even my eyebrows seemed beautiful in their gentle arches upon each brow. I studied my chest again in the clothes and slowly reached out to really admire my hair.

You see my hair has always been this long tangle of curls that gains volume in hot air. The curls were much thicker and more vibrant and even as I watched I felt a line of pain jolt up my spine and into the base of my neck. It felt like something was slicing a knife right up my back and I yelped.

"Honey," I heard my mom walked towards the changing room door, "Are you okay."

Slowly, I opened the door and cringed at its creak. Stepping out, I did a small twirl around for her to see the outfit and she pressed her hand to her mouth and gasped.

"How um - do I look?" I asked her. Hopefully, she wouldn't ask about my changes or the amount of pain they were causing.

"Hey, Sloan come tell your sister how she looks," mom called and on cue, my sister drifted into sight. A pair of jeans, black boots, and her black jacket pulled over as she texted away on her phone. I waved my hand at her to try to get her attention and she immediately flipped me the bird. A shy smirk came as a response from me in response.

"You don't look like a Padraig anymore," she replied and pocketed her phone before crossing her arms over her chest.

"Actually," I started as I turned to face mom.

"And did you look like a Sloan, no, but your dad liked the idea of naming you a little raider," mom said to my sibling before giving me her attention.

"I...hate my name," I admitted, "I would prefer to be called Gráinne."

"Gráinne? Really?" Sloan asked curiously before I blushed at her.

"It can mean corn or wheat," I started.

"Are you sure you want it as a name," mom inquired giving me a raised eyebrow.

"But...and I looked this up - it also likely means the Sun." I countered to them both as I put both hands on my hips and smiled proudly.

"You know with the way her hair is eerily lighting up that isn't off and," Sloan giggled, "it would fit her need to be the center of attention."

"HEY!" I squawked at her.

"You two, be good, or we'll go straight home," mom stated firmly.

"Yes, mom!" We both said before uttering a rough "I'm sorry"to each other.

Immediately, I darted back into the changing room and closed the door. In a rush, I tried on a few more sets of clothes and was able to affirm that I was able to wear a particular brand of underwear as well as four shirts and another pair of pants. The one skirt my sister had grabbed for me was a classic black mini that fell just above my knee and I took devil delight in wearing it. Once I was done, I knew then and there, this was the end of any notion that I was a boy. I was a girl, it didn't matter if my dick was still there, I was a girl. There was no -arguing- with that damn fact!

Mom paid for all the clothes as I fidgeted by her at the checkout line. The teen working the register eyed me a bit to the point of ogling me. When I realized his intense gaze I stepped behind my mom as my sister looked at me a bit perplexed. After leaving the front I headed to the women's room to change. Walking through that door required a lot of courage and again I found myself needing a slow deep breath. My anxiety was on edge these days, and it was razor-thin. It squiggled under my skin and made me want to just jump into a run.

I scooted past the mirrors and sinks straight into a handicap stall and proceeded to change. I made sure to put on the receipt on top of the toilet where I couldn't lose it. There was no way in hell I was going to be that "shoplifting mutie girl". Growling a little at the very idea of it I shimmied into my new clothes with a near reckless abandon. Having them on them unleashed a level of stress I didn't know I was holding in my heart.

Skipping out in my steel-toed boots I giggled at the loud clomping they made as I came to stop. I looked silly, but the still defiant teenybopper. Just turned fifteen and I was ready to burn the whole world down! Now I just had to get through dinner with my parents. The thought of it brought an eager desire to show dad the new me and to be in public. If that one boy was confused about who I was, maybe I was more than able to pass!

“You are a beautiful soul.” I swore I heard as a whisper in my ear as I turned to leave.

Early Evening, October 21st, 2007 - Bellingham

"Here in KSM, it's love from the nineties," the radio blared as mom pulled out of Target. I sat in the front seat slowly watching the mall pull away from us. The clothes on my body didn't cause nary an itch, and as I heard the opening chords to the song starting on the radio I began to hum along. My hand absentmindedly tapped along.

"Another head hangs lowly,

A Child is slowly taken."

As we reached the chorus I was blaring it out to the point that my mom rolled down the window. I wouldn't notice it, but I was crying. An overwhelming sense of sorrow overcame me as I brushed my nose. Rubbing my eyes I stopped as singing the last line hung in the air as I just couldn't stop sobbing. Flashes of feeling jolted through me as the words from the song and as I turned to look at my mom I saw how she was giving me quick sideways glances. I huffed loudly as the pain building in my chest finally gave and I sighed demonstratively.

"Honey are you okay?" my mom asked worriedly. Brushing away as many of the tears I could I sniffed.

"Mom...all I can say is I know what the song's about," I said to her.

"Sis are you okay," I heard Sloan and turned around in my seat to smile at her.

"Yeah, just, all these changes are giving me mood swings," it was the best excuse I could think of for them and myself.

It was my birthday I was not going to get caught up in why my emotions were all over the place. After just a few moments of quiet we pulled into the parking lot to the restaurant where'd I'd be having dinner. Already, I could see my bud John waiting outside. Oh, gods that was going to be a complicated explanation. The other member of my gang of friends. Sloan got out before us and skipped over to John and gave him a hug. As I drew near I could see his eyes bug out of his head as I reached up behind my head and rubbed my back.

"Padraig?" he gasped.

"Yeah...so I'm a mutant," I said casually and just loud enough.

"Whoa man," he gave a slow nod, the ring on his lower lip spun nervously.

"Is that a problem?" Sloan asked pointedly.

"No - NO!" he laughed, "You're you still, right?"

"Yeah, I'm not some alien replacement," I joked.

"Dude, really Pod People? That's a bit dated," he laughed along.

I opened the door to the restaurant, a place a lot like Red Robin, but a local form known as Billy McKales. There was even a silly little train that ran along the top of the wall. It was one of my favorite places to dine at and for reasons I think are quite understandable I was so damn hungry! John had been dropped by his dad and my parents instantly agreed to give him a ride home. My dad was waiting, reading a copy of the Foundation novels.

"Hey boss lady," my dad quipped at me and rising to give me a long hug.

"Thanks, Dad," I smiled before the hostess came and led the way toward our table. We lucked out with a booth and so this time I wouldn't need much work to hide my new status as a mutant. Honestly, it was my birthday and since my parents accepted me with open arms I didn't give a fuck on what others thought. This state of bliss wouldn't last that long, but I embraced it head-on.

A server passed out our menus and immediately I inhaled as I realized how hungry I was getting. Tapping my fingernails against the tabletop to the point where my mom decided to just ask.

"Gráinne," I perked up at her use of my preferred name.

"Yeah?" I replied slowly.

"We've scheduled powers testing in Ferndale on Friday." my father told me.

"Okay," I said biting my lip, "Mom...I think I'm going to need to eat a lot tonight."

Dad's reaction was to look a little surprised and I could already see his mind working away at the realization of feeding a transforming mutant daughter.

"Okay honey, I think we should contact the doctor to also see you," she started as I scooted over as the server arrived to take our orders. Immediately I ordered two different hamburgers and a basket of fries. My sister went for a sandwich as John ordered a large french dip as did my mom. Dad finished by ordering a reuben. We all ordered our drinks and the woman left, though she did give me a slight frown before leaving. That was weird. Was my new status that obvious. I blushed for a moment as I decided to ask my little sister.

"Hey um is it obvious," I mumbled.

"What?" she said right beside me in confusion.

"Is it obvious that I'm a mutant?" I stated the words carefully so others would not overhear.

Sloan leaned in to inspect my face to the point where she was giving me that squinty eye expression people got when they really wanted to spy something. I gave her a slightly uncomfortable cast across my face before she leaned out of my personal bubble.

"It's your eyes," Sloan shrugged, "Your face otherwise is normal looking if a bit androgynous."

"Dude, she's right," John piped up, "Your eyes are the only thing that could give you away."

"Is something wrong?" I asked plaintively.

"No, babes, the only thing is your eyes are probably the greenest I've ever seen them," my mom said finally putting my worries to bed, for now. I decided to table the conversation for the rest of the evening if I could. Off the top of my head, I was already worried about how my classmates at school would react. One of them had shoved Sophia Jameson nearly into an oncoming car earlier this year. If I was going to be facing the same level of racism, I wanted to be ready.

Food came about twenty minutes later and we had been chatting amongst ourselves. Dad was curious about how I felt about the changes, and I was gushing pretty hard because my body was changing. He even asked why I liked Gráinne, informing him of the long search I'd made. This also eventually led to the many reasons I came to dislike my given name of Padraig. First, my family had originally spelled it out publicly at school as Patrick, my long name usually caused people to laugh at me and mock me in class. He seemed genuinely hurt that people would take it to such a level; I even admitted that part of my self-repression of my transgender nature was part of that simply stupid joke.

There was that, and how people always seem to exaggerate my name to ask if I was Irish. Yes, I'm Bloody Irish, as Irish as Leonardo DiCaprio is -not- in feckin' Gangs of New York. Every time I introduced myself to some adults, I always had to be asked: "Are you Irish". It was grating on my ears, pushing me to want to distance myself as well as possible. I think in many ways it was one of the reasons I was so enamored with my heritage.

"At least you didn't choose a Swedish name," mom smiled.

"Why? I was thinking of changing my second name as well," I replied, a bit confused.

"Oh, which one?" mom asked, "your grandfather Herald told me to avoid Swedish names at all cost."

"I was thinking Hilde, it means battle," I replied.

"Gráinne Hilde," she said the name quietly, "Not bad, we may need to think over it."

I smiled and stretched in my place as the food arrived. As soon as the smell of cooked meat came to my senses I began to feel my mouth water. When the plate was placed on the table in front of me I seized upon it like the starving lass I was. Biting into it I didn't care what got on my face as long as I ate, and as I ravenously finished off the first one drank what water I had. I noticed my dad looking at me as he whistled.

"I know some of my mutant clients have large appetites, but seeing my own daughter go to town on a burger like that makes me proud," he smiled. Friday, the idea of my test standing at the end of the week added a certain daunting conclusion to whatever was going to happen. For a moment I could feel my anxiety rear its ugly head again. I beat it down in the recesses of my mind. There wasn't time for me to be weighed down by the neuroses of my mind.

I hate mental illness.

"What about Róisín?" Sloan suggested out of the blue.

"What?" I asked curiously.

"Well, grandma Evelyn's middle name was Rose, be a nice way to honor her," she said.

I thought about it. Gráinne Róisín O Callaghan, it fit well, but I felt like there was something missing.

"Gráinne Róisín Ní Ceallacháin." I heard it as a whisper, and it sounded like a suggestion from a beloved friend. As I found myself deep in thought I said in my head, "Morgan?"

"Yes, my heart, I am here. Just weak. I can't speak much more, but since your considering a name...I thought I would toss my pence in the ring."

I smiled at her words.

"You like it?" my sister asked.

"Yes, I do! I was just reminded of something a friend told me once when I was researching Gaelic," I said.

"Oh?" my dad perked up. Like myself he had an evident love of his Irishness.

"What about Gráinne Róisín Ní Ceallacháin?" I suggested.

"That's a mouthful, but it sounds pretty," mom said.

"Ní Ceallacháin is the girly form of O'Callaghan in Gaelic," I giggled.

"Maybe stick with O'Callaghan in public, but I like that as a formal thing," dad mused.

"Yeah, I really don't need more fodder for the kids at school," I murmured.

That led to a moment of silence, John was busily tearing into his fries as Sloan was nibbling away at her own order. Honestly, the tension was a tad thick that mom leaned back and I could see the gears working in her head.

"Now that we have a name, and a date for your powers testing," she said. I could sense there was something ominous in there somewhere. "Maybe we should consider homeschooling or private school."

"Private school?" I asked and felt my voice break again as it was definitely rising in octave still.

"Your dad and I will be discussing it after we see the results of your tests," she said. Mom was the one I confided in when it came to how bullying was affecting me. My dad tried his best to suggest how to not let their jabs and insults get to me. Yet, the problem wasn't just words, it was physical. How do I tell my dad that someone punched me in the face for no reason? Or that the principle of the entire school seemed fixated on enforcing hats and hood rules rather than bullying.

"I'm not against the idea," I mumbled and asked selfishly, "Um do I get to see my presents?"

"I did buy you all those new clothes," dad pointed out.

"Yeah," I frowned a little bit, but I smiled bigger, "and thank you so much!"

"We did, however, get you one more present from your sister as well as us," I blinked for a moment.

"And I got you one too!" John said trying to get a word in edgewise.

I hadn't really noticed it, but dad did have a medium paper bag with him when we got here. Now, as I thought of it the bag appeared from underneath the table and he sat it atop a clear point in the middle. From within he pulled out two simple small boxes. One had John's clunky handwriting on it and I picked it up to get a better look. The box itself was rectangular, and likely held a piece of jewelry I only made this assumption because it was not nearly big enough to hold much other than maybe a watch. I read the small message John wrote to me:

Bro,

We've been friends for the longest time, and I've always got your back.

John.

It's hard to really not be emotional with all the mutant change level hormones filling my veins. Upon reading the small note I turned around and gave him a tearful high five. Sloan hugged me hard as I opened the small box by lifting its lid. Inside was a simple silver ring in the form of a braided Celtic knot. I tilted my head at it and lift it up to get a better look.

"I wasn't sure about your finger size so I tried to get a midline one," he said and shrugged, "I even had to stare at your fingers this last week."

"Oh god is that why you were acting so weird," I laughed at him.

"Yeah," he said sheepishly, "sorry about that."

"No problem, and thank you it's gorgeous," I said as I put it on my left ring finger. It felt right there, and as I flexed my hand to get a feel for the new ring. It was surprisingly non constricting. I was so happy about it I leaned my arm behind Sloan and mouthed "thank you" to John again.

"No problem it's beautiful," I said and giggled.

"Okay, now it's our turn," Sloan remarked as she picked up the larger box and shoved it into my hands. My little sister was a mix between finesse and impatient. Comparably, she was better in social circumstances and adapted easier to new ideas. Me, I fumbled in social interaction and change easily caused my anxiety to ratchet up.

The card sat atop it was black and on the front was a pentagram, as I saw it, I sent a curious glance to my little sister. All I got from her was a simple Cheshire smile and my mom was smirking at me. Dad meanwhile, well he was finishing off his fries.

"Don't look at me, I only helped with picking out part of the present, the rest is your mother and Sloan," he chuckled.

Giving them both an irritated look at neither giving me any idea I opened the card and read it.

Happy Birthday, from one Witch to Another.

I stared at my sister and started to giggle loudly. Instantly, I leaned in and gave her a hug before untying the silver ribbon tied in a bow around the box. Inside I found some black tissue paper inside and rolled my eyes as my sibling's theme continued onward. What I found inside pretty much left me speechless. Pushing my hand into the box I slowly lifted out a large packet wrapped in tissue paper. Once I unwrapped it I found a large AT&T new phone box, my eyes widened in shock. A new phone to replace my old flip?

"We thought that since you are getting older, and we've liked the new Gizmatic mobiles," my dad said, "you deserve one."

I stared at the box and pushed used my right fingernails to pull open the lid. My hands shook as I lifted the lid and reached in to pull out the smartphone and felt it's sleek black surface in my hand. Just as I pulled it free a small loop of black cord fell free and landed with a plunk on the tabletop. What the? Whatever it was it was shiny! Picking it up in my left hand, I let the string fall and watched as a small Celtic pentagram bounced on the end. I gazed intently at it as I noticed how it caught the light.

"So, the Pentagram is an emblem of safety," Sloan told me, and I nodded in agreement. I kind of knew what the little star meant, but I hadn't done as nearly as much research as my little sister. "A phone and a necklace, thank you so much," I gushed.

"We're not done yet," mom chuckled as I noticed movement just out of the periphery of my eye.

"HAPPY - HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" three staff members wandered over all clapping. Everyone broke out laughing as they all clapped along to the three servers. A vivid red blush brushed my cheeks, I stared at the servers as they all sing along rapidly to the music. One was watching me with a weird glint in their eye, when their gaze met mine theirs nearly bulged on the spot and they quieted down as their jaw tightened. Did they figure out I was a mutant? Did my emerald eyes give me away?

"For you, birthday girl!" chimed a fourth server, a woman with long curly black hair as she set down a piece of chocolate cake and ice cream in front of me. Throughout the conversation tonight I had rapidly eaten what food I'd ordered. The ice cream sat beside none of the fries or the two hamburgers I ate. All of it was gone. Now seeing the source of sugar I could hear my stomach gurgle to announce it's still extant hunger. I began to wonder, would I always be this hungry or was I just like this because of my changing body? Everything had repercussions, perhaps this was what I was reaping. But, I couldn't let one little worry affect this entire night. Not now, in front of my family!

I blew out the small sparkling candle on top of the dessert and made my wish.