“You lost it? What do you mean you lost it? This is the third time you have lost this.”

“Sorry.”

“What are we going to do now?”

“It’s not that important Mom.”

“It is important. That is supposed to be handed in first thing tomorrow morning. They were very adamant that you wouldn’t get on the team if the paperwork wasn’t in by 8 am tomorrow.”

“That’s okay Mom. I’ll just wait till next year to play.”

“No, I’ll figure this out. Let’s see. If I drop you off at school tomorrow, I could run in and sign the permission form. I’ll be late for work, but maybe Jim will let me be late. I’ll call him and ask. This is too important for you to miss out on.”

“Mom, it’s not that important. Don’t miss any work over this. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. If you don’t get on this team, the Middle School coach won’t let you on that team, and then there is no way you can get on the team in High School. You have to get on the team now, or your whole future will be ruined.”

“But Mom, that’s fine. I’ll find something else.”

“No, this is important. I will make it work. I just have to juggle a few things. Maybe if I stay a little later the rest of the week, Jim won’t complain about me being late tomorrow. Don’t worry, I’ll get you on the team. Why don’t you go work on your homework. I’ll figure this all out.”

“Mom . . .”

“Go, go. I have to figure this out.”

Walking into my room I turned and looked at mom. She was looking at her phone while pacing around the living room. Shaking my head, I shut the door and collapsed on the bed. I just stared up at the ceiling.

“I don’t see why I have to play just because Dad did. If I have to be on the football field, the last thing I want to be is in a football uniform. Cheerleading might be fun. I might even tolerate the marching band, but there is no way I want to play football. All this because I asked to take a ballet class with Josey. You would think she would get the message. I’m her only child who doesn’t lose things, yet I keep losing the permission form to join football.”

I got up off the bed and sat down at my desk. Opening up my math book I looked at the sheet of problems we had to do for homework.

“I wish life was as easy as Math. If expressing an interest in ballet caused this type of reaction, I don’t even want to know what she would do if I told her I was transgender. She’d probably enroll me in an all boy military school.”

Shaking my head, I tried to focus on subtraction of fractions. I just wish I could figure out how to subtract the boy from everyone’s perception of who I am.