Cousins in arms 4(5) The trade

Note to readers. Don't read if you don't like poor grammar, this is rough.
This is a work of adult fiction. No resemblance to reality should be inferred or expected.
Copyright… are you kidding?

Edited by Amanda Lynn and Rosemary.

I was afraid that summer gym classes were for jocks, like those who tormented me at school for not being man enough to their way of thinking. Thankfully most of the other kids were like me, and few were overweight. The coach wasn’t from my school and he wasn’t so demanding. No, sorry. He was demanding and patient but he wasn’t cruel.

Otherwise, my summer went as usual. On weekends I was babysitting, and on weekdays I was practicing, doing home chores, reading summer assignments, and running.

When I had some free time and, in the mood, I was practicing make-up. I considered taking drama classes in high school and it was mostly the stage make-up I was working on. Like to make me look older or to look like a girl or like a boy. Well, the last part didn’t usually work. But otherwise, I could make myself look like an old man and if I could manage to change my voice, I could pass as one.

The summer was over and I got to go to the same high school as Cindy. That’s Casco Bay High School, another fifteen minutes on foot from home compared to the junior high.

Try-outs for athletic teams were a week before Labor Day. I was assigned to the cross country team with another freshman guy. There was some forest framed by the railway and Delaware Court, with good running paths. The only problem was there were no hills. Our practice wasn’t only running. The complex gymnastic exercises helped to develop muscles and stamina. As a member of the school athletic team, I was excused from regular gym classes. I had time to do my homework in the study hall. I couldn’t hide from all the bullies in the school. But I could avoid the most vulnerable situations in the locker-room.

Good things didn’t last long. It happened. My grandparents got into a car accident.

Well, there’s some background story.

My mom’s parents, Matthew and Victoria had a big house not far away from us. That’s in Falmouth, on the same street as Falmouth High School. The house had two stories, with enough rooms for my mom with her two brothers and another two bedrooms for guests. Mom’s eldest brother, Tony lived in Houston and the younger one in Atlanta, so there was enough room for grandparents and our whole family, but the problem was my dad. He said a man couldn’t live at his in-laws’ home.

Matthew and Victoria weren’t very old. They both were somewhere around sixty, or maybe a little more. When they got into the car accident, Matthew’s intestines were injured badly, and he had to stay in the hospital for who knew how long. Victoria’s right arm and wrist were broken and she needed help for everyday activities. She couldn’t come to our home because we didn’t have enough room. Cindy and I shared the same bedroom. Our spaces were separated by the curtain hanging from the ceiling.

One of us, Cindy or I, had to go and live with granny Victoria and eventually attend Falmouth High School. Cindy said, “No.”

I had two possibilities. I could go willingly or reluctantly, but I had to go to granny’s place no matter what.

Mom arranged my transfer to the new school and I reported to the school office.

“Ariel…” I started to introduce myself to the woman in her early fifties behind the desk. The nameplate on the desk said, Ms. L. Lewis.

“Oh, I know,” she motioned her hand, dismissing my introduction, “Ariel Werner. Welcome to Falmouth High.”

“I’m Ariel Spencer, not Werner,” I corrected Ms. Lewis.

“Oh? I remember you were introduced as one of Werner girls in the church.”

“Those little ones are Werner. I’m their babysitter and I’m a boy.”

“As you wish,” she said. “Our Principal Mr. Badalament is waiting for you. Address all questions to him.”

I was ushered into the principal’s office. Guess what? The principal was that same teacher who announced me as Ray’s date at the dance party last Halloween.

“We have a little problem here,” the principal started. “Your papers and records say you’re the boy.”

“It’s true, I am,” I confirmed.

“There are some rules to follow, and there are certain procedures we can’t ignore. Our district and school board are maybe a little conservative, not as liberal as in the city. I can’t allow you to use the boys’ locker-rooms and boys’ bathrooms. I understand you don’t want to be with other girls. We have two gender-neutral bathrooms, one on each floor. For the gym, you’ll change in the coach’s office. We have another two transgendered students here and they follow the same rules.”

That was it. I was a boy because I was a boy. At the same time, I was the girl pretending to be a boy.

At home, that’s my granny’s home, things weren’t much better. I told granny that I was mistaken for a transgendered girl.

She just chuckled and replied, “You are too pretty to be a tomboy. I don’t even think of you being a boy.”

What could I say or do? I rolled my eyes for the answer.

“Just kidding, dear,” granny said. “I know who you are. I remember you telling me about bullying in another school. Take it as a protection. Now any bullying would be treated as a hate crime. Accept this situation as a gift of fate.”

The time will come maybe this year or next or even two years later. Puberty will eventually come into my life. I’ll be just another boy, a real boy, and not a girly boy or the girl pretending to be a boy. Then maybe granny’s right. I had to stay calm and enjoy life.

That wasn’t the only thing fate had in store for me. The second floor’s heating and water supply were disconnected, and I was given Mom’s former room on the first floor. The room was decorated in pastel lavender, and there were still her stuffed animals, books, trophies, posters, and her vanity with a mirror.

Another thing that Granny was providing me with was an allowance I didn’t have at home. At home, dad didn’t allow Cindy and me to get money from our grandparents in any form.

My allowance now was the same as the money I was getting for babysitting. I could abandon those kids, but I felt it would not be fair.

There were some changes in my babysitting routine. I was taking Ozzie’s little sisters, Erica and Melody, to Granny’s place for weekends as I couldn’t leave her alone all day. Her place was even big enough for the kids to stay overnight when needed.

Granny’s house was on the same street as my new school, something about five minutes away on foot. All three Falmouth schools shared the same campus. It turned out to be more convenient for me to take Erica and Melody from school on Fridays. I would bring them to Granny’s place and then bring them back to school on Monday morning.

Then some little problem arose when girls started calling me ‘Mommy’. I tried to correct them but it didn’t help. Both Ozzie and his dad said to ignore it. They said kids would outgrow it.

I could ignore kids' mistakes and other misunderstandings as minor.

My hair was growing long, and before Dad was taking Cindy and me to his barber every once in a while, for a kind of a model haircut. He paid twenty for all three and that was with a generous tip. Last summer, that barber retired, and we hadn't anywhere to go for a cheap haircut anymore. I wasn’t ready to pay forty or more for a simple haircut every month. It was already the fourth month since my last one, and I had my hair with parting over the left eye, so bangs were always falling over my right eye. Granny said it looked kind of cute.

Another minor problem was my pajamas or rather, a lack of them. For the night I was wearing boxers and Dad’s old tee. I thought who would see me in it? But then Granny was calling for my help in the middle of one night and she saw how I was dressed. She offered two possibilities. One was to wear my mom’s flannel nightshirt, which was thick, warm, down to my ankles, and I could stay in it without underwear. Or two, I could wear my mom’s pajamas with rainbow ponies on the top. My third option was I could go and buy something for myself, but again, I was reluctant to spend money on something I already had.

Yet another misunderstanding was a bicycle with a basket I got as a present from Granny’s neighbor. The bike… Well, the bike was light lavender and female in shape, but I needed it for grocery shopping. Granny couldn’t go shopping. Her car was in the garage but her arm was broken. My mom couldn’t either because she was with Martin, and with me living with Granny, all the shopping was done by Cindy, and Cindy would never do a thing beyond what she had to do.

I was living separately but was still helping mom with some heavy grocery shopping like cleaners for home and laundry. Bulk meal items like potatoes, flour, pasta, etc were still my duty also, but Cindy was shopping for veggies and meat. With a bike, I could help mom a lot when the weather was good.

I was in the mall for the quick run. Melody needed some supplies for her art class and I planned to be there for no more than ten minutes. I got everything I needed even quicker and was heading to the exit when on my right I saw a poster. “Hot offer. Crew cut. Only $5. Today only.”

It could be what I needed. The crew cut wasn’t completely bald. My hair was constantly getting into my eyes and a haircut was number one on my ‘to do’ list.

“What can I help you with, miss?” the lady behind the counter inquired. I was here to get rid of that ‘miss’ thing. I didn’t say that.

“Is your offer on that poster still valid?”

“Yes… Yes, it is. But it’s a real crew cut. You know no shampooing, no modeling…”

“Yeah, I know. It’s ok with me.”

“I see your hair is so beautiful and thick. It’s kind of a crime to cut it all off. You know it won’t grow back in a week.”

“Yeah, I know… I know. Let’s do it now, ok?”

“Well, this way miss, Michelle will take you from here.”

It was probably the only time when the salon was occupied by predominantly male clientele. Michelle led me to her station and in two minutes it was over with a pile of my hair on the floor.

I thought previously it would be kind of a relief to get rid of all that hair. It wasn’t.

“Ari? Is that you? What happened? What happened to your hair? It was so beautiful…” Granny couldn’t believe I cut my hair off.

“It will take some time to get used to your bald head,” she stated.

“I’m not bald,” I complained.

“It’s not hair either, kind of the patch of short fur on the top of your head.”

“I started to like it already,” I said.

“You may be mistaken for a boy now,” Granny said with a giggle.

Now with a short haircut, I felt more confident. I was treated more like a boy by Ray and his friends. I could have done that haircut earlier. On the other hand, the hair length was irrelevant compared to other things happening in my life.

Grandfather was in the hospital after the car accident with his intestines injured. Doctors were ready to release him to go home when trauma-induced pancreatitis started. Grandfather fell into a coma two days later and passed away another three days after that. We lost him just when everything seemed to getting better.

Then there was that bitter guilt – it was the guilt that said I wasn’t visiting him enough. In five weeks, I was in the hospital only three times. Granny had a car but with her hand injured she couldn’t drive, so we were taking the bus to Portland, and then another one to the hospital. On weekends I had to babysit. Anyway, we were expecting him out of the hospital soon, only not this way… I know that’s only an excuse, but Matthew was my only living grandfather and I was his oldest grandson.

We were shocked first and then were busy with the funeral and other things. Then another disaster struck.

My younger brother Martin dropped into a hypoglycemic coma and didn’t come back. With all that mayhem around, he tried to be useful and injected himself six units of insulin. He mismatched dispensers though. He used the rapid formula insulin instead of prolonged-release insulin. With Martin suffering a cerebral palsy it was very hard to notice. He was gone the same night.

“Bad news comes in threes,” stated Ozzie. I was waiting for the third disaster to happen now.